#if you want to get mad at people misinterpreting a musical about the rise of nazism go look on twitter or tiktok for cabaret discourse...

[supercantaloupe]

saw a post last night complaining that the sound of music film and its popularity contribute to the "universalization of the holocaust" and that by depicting an austrian catholic gentile family's opposition to the nazi regime instead of being about jews, it paints some kind of false picture of who the nazis' real targets were. and i'm sorry but that is such a narrow minded, externally motivated reading of the film/musical. and i say this as a jew who broadly agrees that holocaust universalization and the sidelining of "the jewish problem" (as it was known in that era) in film and media is a genuine and pervasive problem. the sound of music...that is really not the right target for your ire, my friend

[wiwiurikawa]

ok but eternal sunshine by ariana grande is Darklina coded. The lyrics “So I try to wipe my mind, I’d rather forget than know for sure what we could’ve fought for behind this door” ?!

sorry for the wait but my health wasn't the best this week. Even thou I don't ship them (fanon alina x canon darkling is the only combination i like) I will try to anser the best as i can.

(Also english isn't my native lounguge so i can misinterpret some things.)

"I don't care what people say We both know I couldn't change you I guess you could say the same"

This remind me of how aleksander insisted that they could balance eachother and alina was like -nope.

No matter how hard aleksander tried to explain alina why he is doing everything, she doesn't listen. I don't reamember much outside of my frustration with the books but I don't think alina give aleksander the chance because she think of him as a monster and allweys dehumanzed him. So yes they couldn't change eachother.

"I've never seen someone lie like you do So much, even you start to think it's true"

Aleksander who lied to survive (and about his name...) and alina who lied too herself that she is happy (with her shitty boyfriend mal and after the trilogy).

"So now we play our separate scenes Now, now she's in my bed laying on your chest Now I'm in my head, wondering how it ends"

ok but that saunds like it's aleksander talking about malina. Alina in s&s was living in aleksander room in little palace and even though she wasn't on the best terms with mal it still fits.

Also the "play our separate scenes" can be interpreted that alina is playing a saint and aleksander a monster.

"I'll be the first to say I'm sorry"

they are too proud to do this. Both of them will not back down and thinks that what they're doing is the right thing.

"I showed you all my demons, all my lies Yet you played me like Atari"

I somehow feel like it suits both of them and not at all. Sorry i can't explain it.

"You're just my eternal sunshine, sunshine"

funny considering she lost her powers in r&r.

"So I try to wipe my mind Just so I feel less insane Rather feel painless"

It suits both of them so well. Alina constantly shamed for her feelings for aleksander and because of that she feeled awfull. Also when she didn't know about the link between them in s&s and thought she was going mad.

Aleksander trying to prioritise grisha but his feelings get in the way and he is mad about it.

"I'd rather forget than know, know for sure What we could've fought through behind this door So I close it and move"

entire trilogy in nutshell. I don't have many thoughts about this verse (but i hope you could write about that line. I'm really intrested what you think about it.) but i think it shows how alina refused to even thinking about colaborating with the darkling and rising to her actual potential.

"Won't break, can't shake This fate, rewrite Deep breaths, tight chest Life, death, rewind"

I just wanted to say that i really like this verse but i'm really tired and my brain isn't functionating anymore so i can't analise it now.

Also thanks for the ask and even thouht I don't like this kind of music it was fun to analise the lyrics. Hope this satisfy you a little bit.

[charliejrogers]

Do The Right Thing

If 2018’s The Hate U Give is the movie I said every (white) person should watch now in 2020 amidst continued upheaval regarding racial injustice in America, next on my syllabus would be 2018’s magnificent Blindspotting. After that, maybe 2017’s Detroit, but really you should ask someone other than me as I am by no means an expert in this field. However, a movie usually talked about in this vein that I have been slow to see but I now know absolutely needs to be a part of that syllabus is 1989’s Do the Right Thing. The question for me is: is this a movie to watch before all those mentioned, or after you’ve seen them all. (Side note: Green Book, while a fin movie, is not on the syllabus!)

I say this not because Do the Right Thing is a bad movie. On the contrary, it’s probably the best of the bunch I listed above. More I raise this question because it’s the least “easy” film of those listed above. I love (read: LOVE!!!!!) The Hate U Give, but you’d have to be dense or willfully ignorant to not get its message. Do The Right Thing is trickier; it’s more realistic, it’s morality hazier, and it’s liable to leave certain people with the wrong impression of what it’s trying to say. And that’s not a fault. In fact, it’s what I think makes it so powerful. Different people will leave this movie convinced of who are the heroes and who are the villains, and it’s hard to say definitively who is right in the end.

Now, fair warning: I generally like to write these up before reading others’ analyses and so I am positive I am going to misinterpret parts of this movie, particularly as this is a movie that has been written about ad nauseum since its release. Also fair warning: I’m a white dude in his 20s from the suburbs, so take my thoughts on this film about the lived experience of Black men with a grain of salt.

But I do think that’s what this movie, on one reading, is about: the lived experience of Black men. While much is rightfully made and written about the film’s climax (and we’ll get there), the majority of the movie is just following a day in the lives of the residents (mostly men) of one block in a Black neighborhood in Brooklyn during the hottest day of the year. We get the full spectrum of life: there’s the elders who spend their days sitting and shootin’ the shit, breaking each others’ balls, and reflecting on the impending gentrification of their home. There’s the block’s elderly guardian and de facto leader, an alcoholic who commands varying degrees of respect nicknamed “Da Mayor.” There’s the young twenty-somethings and teens who pass the day hanging around, and then there’s the small children playing in the streets. We hear from dialogue that this is a “scary” neighborhood where you should be afraid to even drive their car, but that’s not what we see in this film. We see a community, a vibrant community where everyone knows and cares for one another. When one character’s new Air Jordan sneakers get scuffed, at least ten others from the block come rushing to his defense. The movie paints an almost idyllic portrait of a healthy, vibrant Black community, regardless of the multiple problems they as a community face (joblessness, poverty, police brutality, and just general racism). Whether or not this idyllic community accurately reflects or reflected reality I have no ability to say, but I have to imagine that in 1989, Spike Lee did something pretty powerful by just portraying a healthy, happy Black community on-screen, and it clearly resonated with so many of its viewers.

Embedded into this haven of Black culture are just a few interlopers, including a corner store run by a Korean couple and a pizzeria run by Italian-American man and his two sons. Both stores’ presences upset the residents to different degrees. But it’s the pizzeria around which the film’s plot revolves. The film’s protagonist Mookie (played by the director Spike Lee) is the joint’s deliveryman and only Black employee. He often finds himself playing the role of a mediator between the restaurant’s sometimes boisterous all-Black clientele and the sometimes-hot-headed, all-white family who runs it. To say that Mookie is ambivalent about his job is an understatement. He is, truthfully, not the greatest employee. From dialogue we glean that he has a reputation for taking an hour to deliver a pizza just up the block, and in the film we see him twice take unauthorized breaks in the middle of his work day: once to go home and take a shower, the other to flirt with his girlfriend (in a very tender and well-shot scene!). Yet, for all his faults as an employee, the store’s owner Sal (Danny Aiello) recognizes how vital Mookie is to his operation. He may chide him for taking his time or talking on the restaurant’s only phone for too long, but he knows he will do his job and is overall a good person. What I love about Mookie, who is really the heart of the film (the one told ominously at the film’s start by Da Mayor that he must “do the right thing!”), is how Lee makes him so charming, so cool, and so cool-headed. He is constantly antagonized by his co-worker, Sal’s outwardly racist son Pino (a young John Turturro), yet either ignores his provocations or tries to reason with him. Yet at the same time, Mookie encourages his other co-worker and Sal’s other son, the weak, yet kind-hearted Vito, that he needs to be more assertive with his brother, to meet his aggression with aggression. Mookie (and Lee the writer) understand deeply the complex relationship of race and power. Given the foul things Pino says both to Mookie and about Black people in general, Mookie would be well justified to knock him about, but as a Black man he understands that will do nothing constructive. However, encouraging Pino’s white brother to rise up? No one would be bothered by that is Vito gave Pino what he deserved.

Mookie (and Lee in the writing) strike a fine balance between philosophies of MLK and Malcoln X, two prominent Black figures who loom large in the film. Despite the famous opening sequence where a woman (Rosie Perez) dances to Public Enemy’s “Fight the Power,” there’s a sense in the film that violence, no matter the perpetrator, is an evil to be avoided. Da Mayor suggests that a young mother not spank her boy for lying. The man who has his shoes scuffed prides himself on being a righteous man who actively chooses not to retaliate. When Sal will not add any Black people to the pizzeria’s wall of fame that consists only of Italian America, the glasses-wearing character “Buggin’ Out” (an unrecognizable Giancarlo Esposito!), tries to organize a peaceful boycott.

But yet, for all the attempts to refrain from violence, “Fight the Power” becomes confused with a threat of violence. The song is inextricably linked to the character of Radio Raheem (Bill Nunn), an imposing, largely silent individual who seemingly commands respect from his peers wherever he goes and is always carrying with him a large, boom-box that is constantly blasting “Fight the Power.” When he first enters Sal’s pizzeria mid-way through the film, the song still loudly playing on the boom-box, Sal refuses to serve him until he turns down the music, yelling at him to do so. It didn’t strike me at first that Sal was much at fault: Radio Raheem walks into an establishment with a giant boom box playing loud music… Raheem’s clearly in the wrong. But as Raheem later points out, Sal didn’t say as much as a “please.” Now, we don’t know the pair’s history. Presumably this is not the first time, Radio Raheem has entered the pizzeria in this way, and maybe the first time he did so, Sal responded with a “please.” But you get the sense from the film that Sal has little respect for Radio Raheem, and would never give him this benefit of the doubt. At the end of the film when Radio Raheem returns with Buggin’ Out to stage their protest/boycott, Sal responds violently to them and Raheem’s loud music. First he yells at them while holding a baseball bat, and then uses said bat to destroy Raheem’s radio, proudly exclaiming, “I killed your radio!” Sal calls “Fight the Power” “jungle music,” exposing his true thoughts about his customers. His destroying the radio and his joy to be doing so is, to me, a sign of his want for control. He is upset that his store is so reliant on Black people for customers. Even if his son is the one who says it explicitly, it becomes apparent that Sal too views some Black people as exceptional (such as Mookie’s sister), while the rest are “N-words.” Destroying that radio was the result of decades of Sal’s built-up frustration with his situation and underlying racism. The subsequent destruction of his shop y the community too was little more than the result of decades of the Black community’s frustration with Sal and his intrusion into their otherwise peaceful society.

There’s a great scene related to Do the Right Thing in the underrated 2016 movie Southside With You, an origin story, so to speak, chronicling the courtship and first date of Michelle and Barack Obama. In the film, they go see Do the Right Thing, and afterwards outside the theater the couple run into one of their white employers who was upset by the film’s ending, specifically that Mookie would abandon Sal and throw a trash can through the restaurant’s window, starting its destruction. Barack spins the acts in a way to make Mookie into a hero, who started a riot focused on destroying property in order to spare Sal and his family. The white people love Barack’s explanation and walk away. As soon as they do, Barack turns to Michelle and says, “I made that up. Mookie did what he did because he was mad.”

I agree. Mookie’s mad as hell. At Sal. At the police. At the fact that when the police showed up in response to an on-going brawl between Sal and Radio Raheem/Buggin’ Out, they asked zero questions, automatically assumed that the Blacks were the aggressors (despite Sal displaying the initial violence), and proceeded to kill Radio Raheem (a scene that is shot without much artifice or drama, that somehow powerfully makes the death feel more real). Mookie’s mad at his job and his employer who profits off people he doesn’t care for. His anger is not something that can be reasoned away, but it is no means unjustified.

I absolutely love the movie’s ending. Just before the credits, Lee displays an MLK quote about the importance of non-violence and the evils of violence. The quote sets up the audience to condemn what they have just seen, to condemn Mookie and the rest of the block for destroying Sal’s shop. It’s a moral that white audiences in particular would celebrate. But then Lee challenges us. There’s a pause, and a new quote appears, this time from Malcolm X, explaining that while he doesn’t advocate for violence outright, violence in self-defense to protect one’s rights is warranted.

Do the Right Thing asks difficult and unresolvable questions. To what extent do storeowners owe anything to their customers? What relationship should white landowners/shopkeepers/employers have with the minority community in which they are operating? To what extent can Black people and minorities themselves be racist (not against white people, but against other minorities like the film’s Puerto Ricans and Koreans)? To what extent is looting/rioting ever an appropriate response? And the beauty of the movie is that while Lee has an answer to some of these, he’s not here to lecture anybody. This is an extremely realistic film, full of flawed and complicated characters. You respect Radio Raheem one minute and are detested the next by his treatment of the Korean store owners. Sal treats Da Mayor with respect but Buggin’ Out with disdain. If you hate black people walking into this film, you will still hate them walking out. If you hate white people walking into this film, you will still hate them walking out. But if you walk in with the paradoxical understanding that people are more than their race but also live in a society where they become defined by it, then Lee offers for you a great examination of the life of and injustices faced by Black folk in America, which sadly has not changed much since 1989.

**** (Four out of four stars)

[elejah-verse]

Always/4

Fanfiction

Part 4

Elijah Mikaelson x reader/Elena Gilbert

summary: Elijah Mikaelson and Y/N/E are happily married, but one night everything changes.

a/n: I know it is quite angsty and heartwrenching, but I promise HEA. Thanks for reading xoxo

tags @rissyrapp20 @dendrite-lover @cassienoble2000 @captainshurley @hides2000  @elejahforever 

__________

‘Good morning."- Y/N/E wrote down-"this is day 11- of me being home. Home. This place that looks like it appears to be a place out of fairy tales. And here one more photo of me. Look at her. So graceful, a lady. Confident.                  

Me. Me? Who is really me? I wish I can press a restart button somewhere inside of me and get everything back. Or just go. Leave everything. Go far away from it all. But then there is him. Yesterday was not a good day. I hurt him. I don't want to hurt him. He is so good. Too good. Good to me. He. Elijah. I so loved him they say. Love. I don't know if I love him now. I think I do. I don't know. I know that I don't hate him. Why did I say that hated him. But I am now this fragile bird to him in this place. This  place. This golden cage.  '

Y/N/E stared at the photoof her for a while as if compelled. Then at the photo of Elijah that apparently she had taken.

                Then got up, taking the house keys and her camera and went out. 

**

At this very moment  Elijah and Rebekah were walking into a diner. He was retelling her what had happened the night before. Elena had left the house without notifying anyone, not even the cleaning lady. And was gone for hours. 

"She didn't even take her phone?"- Rebekah asked.

"No. And I just - I was so mad with worry. I know I overreacted-"- Elijah explained sighing a little.

"So- oh- don’t tell me you lost it when she came back?"

"No- I am not like that, Bex!! I approached her calmly. Dr Bennett said that bringing any emotional stress is a big no-no. I just pointed out that she had to tell someone- me- that she is going out, and take her phone the next time she goes out." 

"So - for I guess- she lost it?"- Rebekah asked.

"Yeah, well- in a way, but not that bad. But it was like a drop too much in a glass that was already full. She screamed at me that she hated me, that she felt like we are keeping her in a prison, that she was fed up with everyone treating her like she lost her mind. She stormed off into her room. And - well, I let her be.For a little while. But trust me, I was - so helpless. I then called Dr Bennett, who came over straight away."- Elijah explaiend.

"And then things were fine?"

Elijah rubbed his neck a bit- it was obvious that things were not fine.

"Did you talk to her later?"

"Yes. I apologized. And she apologized. Although it was not necessary on her part. And-"- he sighed-"it felt like - she looked at me with these eyes- I just want you to leave."

"She is adjusting. And I get where you are coming from. But I also get her."- Rebekah said.

"I has all these scenarios in my head that something will happen to her, and I panicked. Those guys have never been found-with all the forensics-" "But you can't have a bodyguard looking after her?"- Rebekah said. "Maybe that's not a bad idea. I would feel stress-free if I knew someone is there when she goes out." "I don't know- she might feel even more controlled"- Rebekah said. "I nearly lost her. Now that I got her back, I am more  than ever scared I will lose her" "Huh- where is all this coming from? You said you were doing so good?"- Rebekah said. "I know. I feel so lost. so, I've decided to get some professional help as well"- Elijah admitted to his sister. "Good."-she said supportively.

They ordered the food. Elijah nervously looked at his phone. He wanted to call her, but he feared she might misinterpret it. Like switching out of the world, he gazed out of the window of the diner.

Elijah's Flashback

Years back

Y/N/E was assorting flowers for her next project. She always had music blasting in her atelier that resembled more a big warehouse. He snuck up on her closing he eyes from behind. Y/N/E jumped ,startled, but  smiled, recognizing his hands, his cologne-

”Three guesses?"- she said putting her hands on his and slowly sliding them down. He smiled at her as she flipped around facing him now,  kissing the palm of his hand-

"I see you got the flowers"- he said-"I see they will end up as a piece of art!".

"Thank you"- Y/N/E smiled dearly-"yes- I got an idea. I want to make them last forever- to always remember this day."

"Marry me!"- Elijah then said- impulse or not. She was this everything. The rarest rose. 

Y/N/E looked surprised at him. This was not something she expected him to say. She didn't hesitate-

"Yes!"- she wrapped her arms around his neck and they kissed. 

"Elijah? Where are you?"- Rebekah kind of snapped her fingers to get his  attention-"the food is getting cold"

"Ha? Ah... I am not really hungry."- he pushed the plate slightly away from him then got up apologizing to his sister for having to leave, and walked out of the diner. 

There was pain, rage, a strange of mix of helplessness inside of him that he had felt for such a long time and he kept it all bottled inside. He felt he hit a wall. He wanted to scream and tear the world apart. He asked the taxi to take him to where Y/N/E's atelier was. The place that was the symbol of his pain. He had not been there since her fellow artist found her there lying barely breathing. 

Flashback

A day after the attack

"Who would want to hurt your wife in this way?"- the detective asked. 

"I really don't know. She had no enemies. Everyone loved her."- Elijah said.

"Both her brother and yours have been involved with the drug scene. Her brother was killed in very shady circumstances. Maybe she had something to do with it? How well do you know your wife, Mr Mikaelson?"- the detective continued.

This enraged Elijah and he took the man by the shirt collar. The other detective calmed the situation down. They could see that Elijah was genuinely in tremendous pain, and the provocation was not in order.

"I KNOW MY WIFE VERY WELL. SHE HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH ANY OF WHAT HER BROTHER WAS INVOLVED IN!!"- Elijah stressed out. 

The taxi brought him to the place and Elijah got out. Thousand emotions opened like as if someone popped off the genie's bottle open. He felt like a sledgehammer wanting to crush everything around him down. 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH"- he screamed out, making some of the people from the neighbouring studios get out. 

"Are you all right?"- a man asked looking at this man in this impeccable suit. The other man, who had found Y/N/E that night, recognized who he was.

"Hey, man"- he approached Elijah, who now collected himself waved off with his hand reassuring them that he was fine. 

"Bad day, ha?"- the man said and then wavered for a moment and asked about Y/N/E. 

"She... she is fine."- Elijah said-"she - woke up.”

"Really?? Great, man!! Wow! That's really great news-"- the man said happily.

"It is"- Elijah said-"ahm- sorry about-  this- me- "- Elijah sighed, feeling embarrassed that he caused a scene. It was not him. 

The situation was awkward, and the other two men understanding that things obviously had an underlying problem now left him and Elijah went on to press the security code, and then walked in Y/N/E’s atelier.

I hit a wall, I never felt so low, so low

Like  a waterfall, my tears dropped to the floor

...

I am bracing for the pain and I am letting go

I am using all of my strength to get out of this hole

The words of a song from Y/N/E’s playlist now drummed in his head as he walked around it. All of her art, finished and unfinished was there. Drawings. Writings. Y/N/E would always take small clever sayings and make them into a poster sticking it on the wall- Elijah read-

                 **

       This last poster brought tears out and he felt his heart would rip itself out of the chest. And then-

"Elijah?"- he heard and he turned around.

"Y/N/E?"- he couldn't believe she was there. Standing at the entrance. 

"What are you-"- he slipped.

She walked in.

"I- went out. And... I don't know. I called Vicky. And- then- I just wanted to come here. She told me the address. And I came."- Y/N/E said as she walked to him looking around the place- "this is all my stuff?"

"Yes. This is all your stuff"- Elijah confirmed. 

Y/N/E went to a corner where her table was-

                 She brushed over the things with her fingers now. The dust collected on them, but she didn't mind. 

"Vicky said that maybe something here would click my memory back"- Y/N/E continued and then looked at him with a sad glimmer in her eyes-"nothing."

"I am sorry-"- Elijah said gulping a bit.

Y/N/E shook with her head- and then said- "I am sorry-"

"What-?"- Elijah didn't quite understand why she was saying sorry.

She moved over to him.

"I don't hate you"- she then said.

He now understood that it was about all that had happened the night before when she came home.

"Oh, Y/N/E please- you don't have to apologize- not again. I should keep apologizing forever. And I am so sorry that I overreacted."- Elijah said.

"You didn't sleep"- Y/N/E then said.

"Excuse me."

"I woke up at five- I saw it on the clock it was five- and the lights were on- and I walked around and you were out on the terrace-"- Y/N/E said.

"I couldn't- sleep "- Elijah said-"it- "- he stopped looking at her as the most precious thing on this planet. She was everything to him. He now put his hand out, wanting to step closer and caress her hair, to make this whole chocking feeling inside his chest disappear,make the pain vanish, turn back time.

"I love you so much"- he then said-"and if I lose you I don't know how I would-"

  Yeah I hit a wall, I prayed that I would make it through, make it through

I can't survive a life that's without you, that's without you, yeah And I will rise up from the ashes now, the ashes now Oh, the sparrow flies with just the crumbs of loving spilled, yeah

I was bracing for the pain and then I let it go I gathered all my strength and I found myself whole

Y/N/E now stepped closer - she took hold of both his hands. He trembled on the impact, smiling a little at her now. She beamed her gleaming warm hazelnut eyes at him and now placed a kiss on his lips.

_____________

[violetsystems]

#personal

It can be a nightmare after all these years to be too transparent for public record.  I imagine it would be something like a poltergeist; always bumping into things and being misinterpreted or read into.  The age old posit of “Shit Happens” doesn’t leave much room for argument or even proof of life  Nobody ever seems to hear my side of things other than when I write about it here.  Nobody registers the endless frustration because I hide it all so well.  I changed a lot of my routines in the last two weeks specifically.  A year ago I started getting harassed at the gym so I changed my schedule there to an early one.  Eventually I quit the gym altogether.  These days I don’t even own a gym membership.  The Nike Training App core routines and some barbells have delivered far more than the stress I had leaving the house.  I think I’ve learned over time that Yoga and Pilates in the back bedroom teaches you more about form and control.  I use a mirror to monitor my posture.  I don’t feel any prying eyes on me behind closed doors.  For years everybody knows I’ve been my own coach and source of motivation.  The source of inspiration is a given and that’s always been fiercely personal to me.  The fact that it should be so obvious is something I’ve learned to enjoy because it is to me.  But nobody particularly knows or cares what goes on in my personal life other than here where I write.  They forget about the weeks and the work therein.  So I probably resemble a ghost clanking with chains in the hallways.  There’s no causality because nobody pays enough attention to accept I exist.  I’m stuck in a limbo between the known and unknown.  There’s some attention I avoid.  I avoid heavy doses of it every day because I know better.  It’s sticks out like a sore thumb socially and I’ve had to practice a sort of poker face.  People often have a habit of expressing their distaste that I think for myself.  I changed my train route to work.  I still bump into awkward invisible walls.  People trying to hijack my narrative in public.  People afraid of ghosts I guess.  Some cultures leave offerings for the dead.  Others try to exorcise and eradicate them.  Some people throw dust to the wind and some people keep their loved ones in a jar above the fireplace.  I’m still alive clawing at the fabric of society and not so much reality.  Society is fake this we all know.  More obsessed with post truth and fake news than statistical based science.  I used to have more dread towards my situation.  That I would be completely forgotten and misunderstood for the rest of my life.  Obviously people following me around on my commute regardless of my route disproves that fate.  People treat me like Frankenstein sometimes.  Pitchforks, torches and all.  Every other week I’m on trial for a different section of my being.  I’m a patchwork of things I’ve picked up from art school year after year.  And year after year there’s something else that claims it’s cooler, fresher, and more alive.  A good excuse to keep me buried.  To keep the heresy out of plain sight.  And then there’s me banging away at the keyboard early in the morning on the internet like a spirit in the tv static.  People free to read into the message however they please.  Most people just surf right through me.  The noise is still out there every Saturday pulsing like a brain in a petri dish.  The horror.

I read this article about how they were growing brain tissue in a lab.  There was this rhythmic pulse of electricity that they couldn’t explain.  The ethics of testing on conscious living material are dicey at best.  So are half the relational aesthetics driven social experiments done in the name of justice and revolution.  What is right and normal is a lengthy discussion.  But it requires dialog. Sometimes I feel like that brain in a dish trying to give a signal but nobody wants to acknowledge.  No one wants the inconvenience of reading how I really feel.  My routine the last year has been fairly measured and predictable.  Yet people still feel the need to watch and make sure.  It’s been a bit of an insult to come full circle a year later and know full well I told you so.  And some of that sting from my own pride is softened by the fact that I broke free from the petri dish a long time ago.  Patch worked my own identity in the face of valid harsh criticism.  I am who I am and I accept pretty much everyone at face value.  I have saved so much face this year that I’ve become more weary of public and how much it takes to put on the act and show.  For all the revolutionary movements I’ve supported and all the calls to action I’ve heeded nothing much has changed for me.  In America there is this endless cycle of outrage.  Right versus left.  Good versus evil.  Black versus white.  And it spirals into a fractal of endless opinions and vitriol.  Nothing gets defined.  Compromise is completely nonexistent.  Closure is a luxury most cannot afford.  You can’t have closure without getting yourself wrapped up in a bigger drama which limits and belittles the argument in favor of populism or worse.  The tribe of public opinion has spoken.  You have been voted off the Deleuzian Island you were shipwrecked on.  A reality exposition in front of camera phones and a conscripted army of influencers.  America has moved from clique to tribe.  Everything is a little more Mad Max than it used to be.  On the weekends I still stare out my kitchen window early in the morning.  People have so many hidden expectations for me now it exhausts me just thinking about it.  It is pure mental anguish to read into all the projections and there’s no real payoff.  What statement shirt will I see today.  What hidden message or Easter Egg do I have to squint my eyes at to prove I’m fully woke.  It’s what is expected of me to be left alone I guess.  Yes I’m ok.  Yes I have a job.  Yes I keep myself busy.  Yes I keep myself out of trouble.  Yes everything outside of my apartment these days seems to be causing me more trouble than it’s worth.  Yes I’m very sad on the inside.  And yes none of that really matters because when I shut the door and think about the people I care about it’s all worth it.  Because I’m not some experiment in a dish that demands some qualitative proof of my usefulness to science, life and America.  I’m my own science project.  A mixture of phantom, shade and shambling mound.  I figured out a way to hide the scar tissue in broad daylight and let the sun fill the hollows in my face.  I’m the most handsome Frankenstein to walk the Earth.  Maybe more of the Hulk for good measure.  Aren’t they pretty much the same thing anyway?

Universal Studios actually owns the film rights to Frankenstein down to the makeup.  The only Frankenstein movie to ever make it to Japan was because of a guy from Chicago selling the rights to Toho.  He’s also the guy that could have boosted Lenny Bruce’s career.  He instead launched Woody Allen’s rise to stardom.  A parable lies within all of this.  Maybe why we’ll never see a decent standalone Hulk movie inside the MCU.  Maybe I’ll just read the comics instead and let it play out in my own head.  There’s a lot of bullshit that I don’t ever want to be part of.  A lot of soul sucking corporate tactics that don’t honor the actual art form.  And there’s the reality that money, jobs, and careers make the world go round.  I work at a non profit.  I make a non profit salary.  I’ve lived being made to feel like I’m inferior to money.  I’ve learned how to budget myself a return to New York every two months.  Someone at work asked if I had any gigs there.  I said I quit music because it was threatening my safety.  In truth the last year was really about setting up a perimeter in my life.  A place that was safe enough and anonymous to share some intimacy with another person.  Music didn’t serve that for me anymore.  It hindered my goals.  How I’ve gone about building fences around my garden has been akin to that scene in Frankenstein negotiating with the villagers.  Except in a no holds barred me alone against the court of public opinion sort of way.  Modern day Hulk has evolved into a sort of cultured retaliation against the mobs.  He’s still too similar to the mad scientist story to make poetic cinema out of it all.  Me I live this shit every day.  Hulk in Hell.  Abused in some ways and blessed in others.  People don’t like it when I’m angry.  I guess as they say that’s the trick.  I’m angry all the time.  It’s how I act upon it.  How I sacrifice my incomprehensible rage and tortured feelings out of love.  For me I spent the whole last year doing something about it.  Challenging the infrastructure of all this bullshit and leading by example.  Too much force and you break things.  Too little and they walk all over you.  Lenny Bruce had the entire police department after him for saying what he felt.  Woody Allen succeeded in Hollywood.  How you view the hypocrisy of all that is all in what you accept and what you resist.  Resistance isn’t fun.  And it looks different for everyone.  The most political battle to fight is the personal one.  The right to be and the right to think.  What is the real different between Frankenstein and the Human Ken Doll anyway?  Who owns the rights to me being me?  What gives me the right to have an opinion?  Who I can talk to and who I can love?  What I need to become to be treated as an equal in the public eye?  What people have done to stop me from becoming who I really am?  Why do I even care about having a popularly accepted opinion when no one listens?  Who has room for drama in their life when I only make space for all the love I have for you?  Of all the pieces of my life that I stitched together you are the most important one to me.  Because you are the piece that makes me whole just by being you.  It’s not a missing link it’s been an important foundation to my struggle.  If I keep bumping into you in the dark just remember it’s a love tap.  I don’t mind if you tap back.  Only you though.  Fuck all this other shit. <3 Tim