#if youre trying to get into ''russian literature'' or ''spanish literature''

[diamondnokouzai]

NO BOOKS TRANSLATED FROM OTHER LANGUAGES SHOULD BE ""ENTRY-LEVEL""!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EVERY SINGLE BOOK TRANSLATED FROM A FOREIGN LANGUAGE SHOULD BEDAZZLE YOU WITH INFORMATION FROM ANOTHER COUNTRY, ANOTHER CULTURE!!!!!!! EACH AND EVERY RUSSIAN NOVEL SHOULD STRIKE YOU ANEW WITH WONDER AND CULTURE SHOCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[atticssmellgood]

Hi, i'm from brazil and i often find it difficult to identify with the fic reader because they are usually american, could you make a spencer reid x foreign reader? it doesn't necessarily have to be Brazilian, any country is fine. Maybe he meets her at a bookstore in the foreign literature section and they start dating. kisses from brazil.

Call me?

Spencer Reid x Foreign!GN!reader(no specific pronouns)

Summary: Reader bumps into Spencer while looking for a book in the foreign language section.

Warnings: none!

A/N: Thanks so much for your request! I really hope you enjoy this, I tried my best. Let me know what you think! x

You push the glass door open, a bell acknowledging your presence as you step into the small book shop.

The silence enveloped you in an instant, drowning out the hustle and bustle of city life outside. You stand there for a second, reveling in the earthy scent of the old store. Books were laying in stacks that were scattered around the small area, giving the place a disorganized but oddly comforting appearance. Plants and a thin film of dust decorated the various windowsills, further assisting the creation of a homey atmosphere. A tired looking high schooler sat behind the cash register, reading what looked to be a popular YA novel and sipping from a Starbucks cup. She glanced up at you and gave a soft smile before diving back into her reading.

With that, you quietly make your way to the back of the shop, breezing through the aisles with light feet and only stopping when you reach the foreign literature section. You ghosted over some French novels, beginning to get lost in thought as you looked for books printed in Portuguese.

Moving to America had been a bit of a challenge at first, but after spending a couple of years in the country, you found yourself adapting to the culture and language differences with ease.

However, that didn’t stop you from getting homesick every once in a while.

The feeling had become less frequent as time passed but it never went away completely. Sometimes, when you got that sick feeling in your stomach, you would come back to this little shop and buy a book in your own language. You found comfort in seeing the familiar letters printed out on the delicate pages of books. You even read out loud from time to time, if only to hear the words spoken out loud. That’s precisely why you were here today.

Your fingers traced the various spines lining the shelves, your eyes reading the different titles. Russian, German, Spanish. You recognized the words even if you didn’t know what some of them meant. You continue to search, confident you would find something even more interesting than the last one you read. You were too focused on finding the right book to hear the bell on the front door ring, or notice the lanky man making his way towards the same section you were in.

You come across a small book, the title printed in Portuguese. It read; Capitães da Areia

“Captains of the sand, written by Brazilian author Jorge Amado in 1937. Tells the tale of a gang of orphans living on the streets of Bahia with nothing but their wits.”

You jump back at the sudden voice, snapping your head towards the source with wide eyes and clutching the book close to your chest.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you!” The man held his hands up as if he was trying to calm a wild animal.

“It was one of my favorite books when I was younger…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck and smiling awkwardly at you.

You laugh a bit. “No, no it’s fine, I can be pretty oblivious sometimes.” You grin back at him, watching as he brushes a lock of messy brown hair out of his eyes. “Thanks for the synopsis though, I don’t think this has a summary on it.” You flip the book over to the back only to find that you were indeed right, it was completely blank.

He laughed at the little frown you gave. “I’m Spencer, by the way.”

“Y/N”

The two of you stare at each other for a minute and you take the silence as an opportunity to survey his appearance.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this man was pretty damn gorgeous.

He was wearing a white dress shirt with a black button-up cardigan and dark slacks, the outfit being pulled together by a deep purple tie. His complexion was sharp, prominent cheekbones and a jawline that could cut diamonds, a stark contrast to his soft brown eyes. His hair was unruly, but it was strangely fitting. A messenger bag was slung across his torso, his hand gripping the strap.

Spencer cleared his throat in an awkward attempt to break the silence, effectively snapping you out of your thoughts.

“So, um, what exactly are you looking for?” You ask, hoping to ease the tension with casual conversation.

He seems to perk up at this “Oh, I was just seeing if they had anything new back here.” He glanced at the shelves and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Last time I was here, I only saw books that I had already read front to back.”

You think for a second before pulling a book from the top shelf and holding it out to him.

“Here, since I’m reading your favorite childhood book, you should read mine. Assuming you know Portuguese, of course.” He takes the book before looking back at you, confused.

“It’s only fair.” You say with a shrug.

Turning back to the shelves, you can’t help but notice the change in atmosphere. The quiet between the two of you is comfortable now. You watch from the corner of your eye as he skims over the different titles, pulling out a new book every few minutes. Every now and then you would catch him looking at you before he quickly turned his gaze back to the shelves.

“So….do you have a last name?” You ask.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you had a last name.”

“Oh, Yeah, It’s Reid.”

“L/N”

Spencer hums and goes back to his searching as you mule over his name in your mind, your lips moving as you silently formed the words.

Once you were satisfied with your book selection, you turn to leave, not wanting to disturb Spencer’s book-hunting. But just as you walk past him, he stops you with a light hand on your arm.

You look back at him.

His face is red, his lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something. You stare into his soft eyes, waiting for him to speak.

The eye contact seems to make him even more flustered, his gaze landing on the hand still on your arm.

“Um- I know we literally just met and we barely even talked and you have no reason to trust me at all and you probably already have a significant other or something-“

“Spencer, slow down, you’re talking way too fast.” You laugh, placing a hand on his.

“right, sorry.” He takes a deep breathe before speaking again.

“What I’m trying to say is- you’re really attractive, and I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go for coffee sometime…?” He asked hesitantly, his eyes finally meeting yours.

You smile and pull out a piece of paper.

“Do you have a pen?” You ask. Spencer digs in his pockets for a writing utensil and hands it to you, his expression puzzled.

You quickly scribble something down before handing the paper to him and promptly leaving to go pay for your books.

Spencer looked down at the slip of paper to find your phone number with a little heart drawn next to it and the message;

Call me?

_________

“You know, the reason coffee wakes people up is due to the fact that caffeine increases adrenaline production.” You and Spencer were sitting across from each other in a small cafe, you listening to him list off the health benefits of coffee.

“Consuming around 2 to 5 cups a day is actually linked to a lower risk of developing type 2 diabetes, heart disease, liver and endometrial cancers, Parkinson’s disease, even depression.” He finishes with a smile and a sip of his black coffee. “I’ll have to keep that in mind then.” You grin in response.

You could honestly listen to his rambling all day. The way his eyes glinted with excitement when he talked about something he finds interesting, it’s one of the cutest things you’ve ever seen.

The date continued like that for a while. He told you he worked for the FBI in the behavioral analysis unit—turns out he’s actually the resident genius there—and you told him about your own job. He listened intently when you told him some of the stories from your childhood, laughing along with you when you told jokes. He insisted you told him more about Brazilian culture and your family back home, asking questions and seeming genuinely intrigued by everything you said.

“I think your accent is really soothing.” Spencer says suddenly. You immediately stopped talking, your face growing hot as you watched his eyes grow wide.

“Sorry! Sorry, I just really like the way your voice sounds.” You could see his face getting red, clearly embarrassed by what he had said.

“Thanks, though I have to admit that’s quite an unusual compliment.” You chuckle, suddenly hyper-aware of your accent. He laughs with you, and you soon get back to the conversation you were having.

You were currently on the topic of his team back at Quantico when his phone went off. He pulled it out of his pocket, frowning when he realized what it was.

“I’m really sorry Y/N, I’ve gotta go. We have a new case.” He sighed, grabbing his messenger bag and standing up.

“Don’t worry about it.” You tell him, finishing off the last drop of your coffee that had been cold for a while now. “I should probably get going anyways.”

He smiles and gives you a wave before heading out the door.

You left the cafe feeling lighter than you have in a while, grinning to yourself all the way home.

[dreamtydraw]

i wanna know more about erinna! what's her story like (｀∇´)! and what's something about her that most other characters don't know?

*crack knuckles*

Tw: abusive relationship ,depression and parental neglect

Erinna Alphonse ( full name ) 's parents died when she was a baby and she ended up in the orphanage. She was lucky to get adopted young by a lovely couple who wanted to have a daughter.

All her childhood, she was pampered like a princess. It all was going well until she tuner 6 years old. After years the couple finally managed to have a legitimate child.

A majority of the family didn't consider Erinna as legitimate in the family but it's wasn't too serious because she was young and the subject didn't come back often. With the arrival of a « legitimate » child the question came up again, they had no valid reason to not count her as a family now they did. It’s simple, outside of her grandparents most of them started to simply tolerated her « when will you send her back ? »

Little iris is now the center of the family and takes all of her parent’s attention.That created the syndrome of the King child. You give everything to Iris the younger because we are so proud to have her, after all, she is the little one of the family, we must pamper her. Erinna is old enough, she can understand, right?

Erinna Understood very well that we favorise the youngest, after all, it is a baby and she has no rancor. She loves her little sister, she looks after her, she takes care of her... So why would she hold a grudge against her?

Years pass and her parent enrolled her in multiple private lessons because failing to grant her their presence in her life, they wanted her to do big and great language studies. In some way, it was for them the only reason she was worth getting attention.

For that, she started an international program in middle school with English for history and literature, added Latin optional, Spanish in LV2, and the following years a study of Russian, Japanese, Polish, German, and in the end Finnish, switching constantly when her level isn’t judged good enough to begin with.

Just by reading it, you can feel how much this program looks heavy for a midlescholer and it is. Above it, she takes care of herself since her parents trust her to be big enough to do it alone. They are too busy and they didn't want to waste money on a nanny when Erinna is capable enough to do everything alone.

growing up too early ruins a childhood and at the age of 15, she is already in Burnout.

No time to make friends you have to work, no time to sleep you have to do your dinner, no time to go out you have to clean your house.

As she’s busy, her parents take even less time for her, ut's a pitty excuse as they are the ones overlooking her and then complain. They go on vacation with the youngest one and leave her the keys for her to study at home because exams go first, they go see the family without her because she's not that welcome now that grandpa is gone. They do not celebrate her birthday because it is too close to Christmas and after all, they can just mix the two and that if they remember to wish her a good day.

The problem is, nothing is all bad or all good for her, it’s a gray area in the heart of the girl.

They are neither bad nor good with her, it's neglect. She’s just so tired, the simple idea of opening a book makes her want to cry. she’s tired of it all but doesn’t want to complain because she doesn’t see the injustice. For her, it's just that she’s rubbing herself for nothing and her parents are doing a lot of stuff so she should stop complaining.

During her last High school year, a person who draws her attention, a boy named Ricky.

Ricky is nice to her, he remembers their little discussions, she gets along well with him and it’s a light of comfort in the ocean of her life. He always try to reach out to her, sometimes walked her home. So when he asks her out she happily says yes, she feels loved for the first time in a while.

No one gives her attention, apart from asking for homework, she has no interaction with the people in her class. She is alone, she is tired, but it is the end of her white exams, which means it's the Christmas holidays and soon her birthday. she will turn 18 and she thought that for the occasion her parents would prepare something, after all, Iris got a giant event for her 10 years.

Their answer to her question :

Oh, we thought you wanted to celebrate it with your friends, we won’t here here for the holidays.

She didn't recover from their answer and that’s the last time she’ll talk to her parents face-to-face because she snapped. She can't handle the pressure anymore, she’s heartbroken, tired and upset.

Ricky moved in his appartement and freshly 18, she takes all her belongings and move in with him.

(This part is about mental and physical abuse)

At first, everything was nice, just a little couple living together. Erinna is at the lowest of her depression, she don’t go out, she sleeps all day, she takes little care of herself and simply loose her sense of time.

Ricky who was once a loving boyfriend is more and more controling. At first it felt genuine but it slowly grew on possessiveness and control, she can’t do anything on her own and he makes sure she can’t. At some point he doesn’t bother no more, simply locking her in the appartement.

The relationship grew violent, he got irritated, she got scared and it escalated in the bedroom.

One days where she cries about her life she thinks about it and how she dosent want to live, not like that, not here, not that way.

So she escapes.

She search for one of her blood relative, she finds the manor and that where her story starts.

[dogstarblues]

20 Questions

got tagged by @artemis-devotee. seemed like fun! ty botan!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

i have 11 works and i can tell you four of those are poetry.

2. What’s your total AO3 words count?

17,831

3. What fandoms do you write for?

on ao3? used to write for the ch**tiverse, still write for Victoria Goddard's Nine Worlds. well, okay im on hiatus from participating in fan stuff bc i got too much going on and i have complicated feelings abt fandom. but. on ffnet? naruto, inuyasha, bleach, fairy tail, danny phantom. i think.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

we have time (love this one - much needed natural hair content in that fandom, much needed)

you can't even see how much you're mine (i'm really proud of this one)

before we have time

just for now

gazing at the sun

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i respond to everyone's comments if i can remember LOL

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

you can't even see how much you're mine. really exorcised my polyamory baggage with that one LMAO

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

mmmmm none of them end poorly but they end heavily, if that makes sense? but also they don't. like most of my fanfiction as an adult in my 30s is discussion of wants and needs in a relationship and hashing out things that need to be talked abt

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i have on ffnet when i was a teen and giving every naruto character in my biopunk fanfic like 4 codenames SDKVDFLVMS

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

yuh. "just for now" is smut (old man yaoi). and there's another i think. i wanted to really confront my sex repulsion and explore my own boundaries around what i write.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

naur i never understood crossovers v well. i love an AU tho

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

probably not. on ffnet it was SO goth edgelord and now it's extremely poetic prose. (and when i say POETIC prose i mean it tend to be concise and abstract, not that its purple) who wants that LOL

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

naur

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

yes! my first fanfiction was with my childhood friend Sunshine and we posted a double-self-insert absolute MANIC fanfic set in the world of Inuyasha posted to ffnet. one of my fondest memories. i dictated, she wrote.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

i don't have one these days but i shant say what it used to be only that it made me insane from the time i was 14 to the age of 25.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

i had an old man yaoi urban fantasy au wherein a character who used to be the chosen one had been imprisoned and was surviving the trauma of that as a music teacher and i read a ton of prison literature for it and watched documentaries and watched interviews and spent WEEKS researching trauma from incarceration and what it means to be incarcerated (part of this was because my birth father was about to be incarcerated and i was trying to write through my understanding of what he'd be going through) and researching what town councils do. and then a (now former) friend had torn apart the fic paragraph by paragraph during beta and wrote how boring parts were and no one wanted to hear abt me talking abt poetry in the fanfic and it was my FIRST fanfic since i was in my early twenties and i basically deleted the whole thing out of embarrassment and hurt. iykyk who it was. idk if i can ever go back to that. i just don't. i want to but. even strangers in workshops aren't that cruel LOL

16. What are your writing strengths?

i'm a pretty/poetic writer good at relationship shit i think. i'm good at grounding the reader in a sense of place and my writing is very tactile. it's embodied.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i am a pretty/poetic writer

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i know some spanish and a little french and even less russian (i'm like learning that one through osmosis) but it's not v applicable. hmmmm i wouldn't try unless i was fluent.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

inuyasha

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

either the naruto biopunk fanfiction on ffnet (i turned that one into a fanfic from a biopunk short story i had written in high school it's v close to my heart even if edgy) or "you can't even see how much you're mine" bc i put a lot into that or "we have time" because your partner doing your natural hair IS a love language.

if yall wanna hop in i'm tagging @toopunkrockforshul @cadencekismet @markeyverse

[belle-keys]

And speaking of Dostoevsky again (October is a month I reread one of his books, hence I am so preoccupied with him and fully aware I will need a month to recover from The Brothers Karamazov, it's amazing how this book makes me feel each time I came back to read and find something new I haven't noticed before) what are your thoughts on The Idiot? Honestly I will never be able to tell whether this book is better than The Brothers Karamazov or not, I love both of them, making me choose between them is like do I prefer my right ear or left ear when I need both. But what Dostoevsky did in the Idiot. This protagonist is just brilliant and I am telling you this as person who identified with Scarlett O'Hara all my life because I've always known Melanie's level of goodness is too high for me to reach, so she is a person on pedestal, while Scarlett is more relatable. Anyway, with Lev Myshkin I was confused at first because Prince Christ wasn't the type of protagonist I suspected from the title, but I gave it a try and ended up loving it.

I must admit I haven't read any Dostoyevsky and my reading of Russian writers is very weak! It's on my list to get to Dostoyevsky in my 20s as some point, but I'm gonna have to disappoint you here, haha. My "thing" is more literature written in Spanish and French in addition to English.

[emptymanuscript]

I feel like this one has so much room to play around in.

Like, are we talking, I go back knowing everything I know and it's just, do you wanna do it again? Or are we talking I rewind time and only remember enough of the future to know that in some alternate timeline I had my current opinions about my education? Or... some other variable, like if you went and did this degree instead I know my life would be different in these particular ways? And how often can one redo and compare? And how big can the change fallout be, etc? Oh! and how far back are we talking? Like are we just going back to first day of class registrations or are we going younger to prep for a different major and things like that?

I know a lot of the stuff that I am most pleased with in my life are emergent effects from decisions that include my BA. So I would be EXTREMELY hesitant to seriously change it. I even met @coatntails specifically because of mutual school connections. We were both friends with findingsherlock and minion who were in my major with me. I'm even fairly certain we would never have gotten together if findingsherlock hadn't made it her freaking mission to get us together, which we finally did ON THEIR WEDDING DAY. @coatntails was one of the bridesmaids and I was the officiant. And findingsherlock and minion gave up their fourth wedding anniversary to return the favor and officiate for us. Come to think of it... pretty much all the people from college that I still talk to regularly, I met through my major. So... you know... I don't really want to give that up.

But I could certainly enjoy tweaking it. Like, I would absolutely send a very emphatic message back in time to my college age self looking sadly at statistics requirements and demanding that I buy myself a copy of excel and take the damn "Statistical Methods in Psychological & Brain Sciences" course because I really do regret how close I came to getting a minor in Psychology and giving up. If I went back with everything I know, I would abuse the hell out of my priveleges and aim hard for a dual major in Psychology instead of just a BA in Creative Studies with a literature emphasis. Get the damn double major.

I would also damn well send myself a message to NEVER take a break from the SBWC, that is a HUGE regret for me. It nourishes my soul. And, you know, it might offer some huge advantages.

Where I would seriously consider changing is actually my Masters. My Masters Degree was good. But I'm not sure I couldn't have done better with less pain by taking another path. And the easiest way to do that would be a very stern message to my past self to really go all out on language learning.

If I could go far enough back and really communicate or hold onto knowledge, I think I'd try to convince my former self to not just stick with but actually try significantly harder with Hebrew, Spanish, and Russian. Actually can I go back and talk to my parents? (Very Dangerous Idea) but like just to say, hey, start Hebrew REALLY early, like immediately, I'm gonna have a really hard time with it so I'm gonna need a lot more help a lot earlier if you want any possibility of me being able to work with any of it. Also, talk to your kid about Talmud and Kabbalah instead of... whatever we called Sunday School (Thursday school? Temple school? Can't remember). Religion and what passes for history isn't gonna work. Go with ethics and mysticism, those things your child actually cares about. Then I wouldn't have the impulse to choose the grad school I did because a decent chunk of my choice was based around finding a school that both offered a PhD (which I now know I do not actually want in writing or literature, at least not enough to do that much work for that little return) but also didn't require me to know two foreign languages (which I do not).

But you know, if you're going that far back and can communicate or even just remember everything, like can you just try and track down your people vastly early. Most of the people who are my primary attachements in my current life not only lived in my country but in my home state. Three not only lived in my state but in my county! Minion, even though I never met him until college, actually lived closer to me in time and mileage than I went to school in 4th, 5th, and 6th.

Of course then there's the convincing of people... hi, is ____ at home. Heuy, ____! Look, I know you've never met me but I have traveled back in time from a future where you are important to me and I miss you and don't want to wait until we actually enter each other's lives naturally. Might be a bit awkward.

...though I do wonder if I could save some friends pain. Like, could I interfere somehow with people who I know will be hurt if I kind of know where-ish, when-ish, and how-ish they were hurt? Would they then end up the same people? Hmmmm....

This is how we end up with alternate lives stories... huh.

If I can keep the people and what I know, though... then I wouldn't have to keep the places. Then, yeah, I'd probably change my major so I could have more knowledge because I LOVE being an insufferable know it all. Of course then I'd have to decide if I wanted psychology, education, or linguistics. Maybe religious studies but I'm always fascinated by religious studies UNTIL I'm actually taking classes and then I'm bored out of my mind, so probably not. There's also media studies :/ that would be useful.

Hmmph... I'd probably need to go back early enough to give some thought to what I'd actually want to study XD.

I think I'd still want the same ideal job that I ideally want now (and am not going to get). So... probably education, I guess. Yeah, there's a change I think I'd rather... just going so much harder after the job I wanted when there was time, energy, and momentum on my side.

Bleh... that sounds depressing.

Hmmmph.

[halcyon-summer]

America by Allen Ginsberg

America I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing.

America two dollars and twentyseven cents January 17, 1956.

I can’t stand my own mind.

America when will we end the human war?

Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb.

I don’t feel good don’t bother me.

I won’t write my poem till I’m in my right mind.

America when will you be angelic?

When will you take off your clothes?

When will you look at yourself through the grave?

When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?

America why are your libraries full of tears?

America when will you send your eggs to India?

I’m sick of your insane demands.

When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?

America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.

Your machinery is too much for me.

You made me want to be a saint.

There must be some other way to settle this argument.

Burroughs is in Tangiers I don’t think he’ll come back it’s sinister.

Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?

I’m trying to come to the point.

I refuse to give up my obsession.

America stop pushing I know what I’m doing.

America the plum blossoms are falling.

I haven’t read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for murder.

America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.

America I used to be a communist when I was a kid I’m not sorry.

I smoke marijuana every chance I get.

I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.

When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.

My mind is made up there’s going to be trouble.

You should have seen me reading Marx.

My psychoanalyst thinks I’m perfectly right.

I won’t say the Lord’s Prayer.

I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.

America I still haven’t told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over from Russia.

I’m addressing you.

Are you going to let your emotional life be run by Time Magazine?

I’m obsessed by Time Magazine.

I read it every week.

Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.

I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.

It’s always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie producers are serious. Everybody’s serious but me.

It occurs to me that I am America.

I am talking to myself again.

Asia is rising against me.

I haven’t got a chinaman’s chance.

I’d better consider my national resources.

My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable private literature that jetplanes 1400 miles an hour and twentyfive-thousand mental institutions.

I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underprivileged who live in my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns.

I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go.

My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I’m a Catholic.

America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?

I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his automobiles more so they’re all different sexes.

America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe

America free Tom Mooney

America save the Spanish Loyalists

America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die

America I am the Scottsboro boys.

America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother Bloor the Silk-strikers’ Ewig-Weibliche made me cry I once saw the Yiddish orator Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have been a spy.

America you don’t really want to go to war.

America its them bad Russians.

Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.

The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia’s power mad. She wants to take our cars from out our garages.

Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader’s Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations.

That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read. Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.

America this is quite serious.

America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.

America is this correct?

I’d better get right down to the job.

It’s true I don’t want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts factories, I’m nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.

America I’m putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.

Berkeley, January 17, 1956

[freeworldallahmbaclass]

I hope this helps , I got hired to do a job so here I am helping you and sharing some of my ministers works and their books , read learn and grow the question I ask you is how bad do you want a better life for you and your family .

Turn up the volume and listen .

Primarily bonding with you this is my call to you hang out with me because it is sunday and my first lines to you is listen and read and learn .

Good morning get your fire back get your passion back and give the enemy the doubt the unbelief the fight of his life with this new book by Joel Osteen I downloaded the sample and got the introduction and the first two chapters for free , so go get your sample of the book on your own book reading account or from the store in your google playbook account or amazon kindle cloud reader account get your own account and download this sample and on your payday reach in your purse or pocket and purchase the book it will work wonders for you , it is healing for your soul . Get your books in English , Spanish , Chinese, Russian , German , or the dialect of your country it will change your life .

Tom Brady of the New England patriots excuse me for any disrespect to anybody I apologize for the strong language I was just trying to shake the blockers off of me my critics off of me the move from his regular team was a move to wake me up , the move to Tampa Bay Buccaneers means to get the red flags off my records no disrespect to anybody or no subliminals but this is my future he did it so I could have a future and maybe I could end up as a stock clerk in a nice job and get my certificate of good conduct and clean my act up to prove to employers that I educated myself and rehabiltated now I'm a much better person and where he stop is where I begin and to forgive people that may of harmed me he went all the way to that age to say that to me keep pushing even when life knock you down you get back up and keep fighting and I honor that , thank you Tom Brady so much thank you .

Good morning

Learn and happy sunday to you and your family and your city and town , country and hood , turn up the volume and listen 🎶 and read your books .

I apologize for any profanity I used on this computer I'm sorry and it wont happen again. I stand by the integrity of this page and dedicate my life to God's word and all of my pastors and ministers word and authority guidance and direction for my life , if I dont I'm fired and I love all of my teachers they are my friends and helpers and I put them and their ministry which they hired me to spread around their literature podcasts and tv shows to help make this world a better place for people individually for their spirit to be renewed and for their country city their town and community to follow God and I put them my ministers teachers and guides and the ultimate authority God's words before anything and my own ambitions , thank you .

From Joyce Meyer book

Blessed in the mess How to experience God's goodness in the miidst of life's pain

Help in Building Patience Meditating on Scripture helps us do what God wants us to do, and He does want us to grow in patience. Here are five scriptures related to patience for you to read, think about, and meditate on

Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction define affliction , faithful in prayer. Romans 12:12

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Galatians 6:9

Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Ephesians 4:2

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him; do not fret when people succeed in their ways, when they carry out their wicked schemes. Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret—it leads only to evil. For those who are evil will be destroyed, but those who hope in the Lord will inherit the land.Psalm 37:7–9

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Colossians 3:12

Please be advised that due to a special event occurring in the downtown area, we ask the public to follow all posted detours between 12 p.m. to 5 p.m. on Saturday, July 27.

Drivers should also expect delays downtown and should consider alternate routes. Parking restrictions will also be in place. Residents, visitors and event attendees should keep these temporary closures in mind when traveling.

Fundraiser for Vice President Kamala Harris is expected to begin at 1:30 p.m. Saturday at the Colonial Theatre. Expect road closures and detours24 hours ago The Berkshire Eagle

Fundraiser for me I'm in Pittsfield Massachusetts the Governors man and Presidents boy sleeping on the streets of Pittsfield Massachussets after all my accomplishments and help I gave , I get to sleep in a private park on order of 50 Cent though my true friend no lie he told me to lay there back off celebrities and this phone helping and maybe that curse on my life will go away anyway the Vice President is here today right now having a fundraiser for me hope it works the public and people do what they want though she drove right pass me darn I need winter clothes a roof over my head for the winter I heard it get cold out here in New England and I'm sleeping in the streets be proud of your boy though it is a private park in front of 76 East the courtroom and Jewish remebrance stones for their people our people my people and yes I own my own hospital an incubator in Brooklyn NYC it is amazing when you define it and find out it helps babies that is born to die to save their lives and to develop their organs bones muscles and their brain I love it now thank you so much wow I own my own hospital an incubator and bounded to it wherever I go in life so I'm that franchise a medical doctor I can't complain .

Pittsfield Massachussets

My fresh start and yes I'm grateful thank you to all that help me escape my old life , I have great hopes for myself I'm just scared of the winter and how social service and even shelter services how they leave people on the streets in the cold and voodoo then be your enemy when you are in their custody , thanks a lot America you are welcome for the help .

I gotta be careful

Bishop T. D . Jakes book Experiencing Jesus , six pillars from the book of ephesians .

The Greek word translated “prince” is archon, which refers to a person or being who is the first one in order of authority, or the leader. Satan’s territory is “the air,” in your ear controlling you and me which most commentators agree is the atmosphere where human beings live in my ear using witchcraft . Satan’s power is limited, and he operates only as the god of this world, small “g,” but we should never underestimate his power! While we were dead in trespasses and sins, Satan was our spiritual master. His demons were in the air around us in our spirit controlling us , programming us to oppose God, resist Jesus, and walk according to the course of this world. They drove us to waste our lives thinking we were “good,” or destroy ourselves and take as many others with us in evil. The Bible tells us that demons operate primarily through our thoughts. That’s what I meant when I said that they program us from the time we are born. Many times, what we thought was our own thinking was really demonic. Consider the following “good” and evil thought patterns: “I can get anything I want” or “I’ll never get what I want.”

[bigbadripley]

Chemistry - Ⅰ - Volunteer Hours

Pairing: Valkyrie x Bisexual!Female!OC Appearances: Student!Valkyrie, Professor!Tony Stark, Student!Yelena Belova

Summary: Reese Majors decides to join a tutoring program hosted by her favorite professor for volunteer hours. She gets set up to tutor a girl named Valkyrie Brunnhilde, a bombshell she’s never met before. Reese finds herself in a world of trouble as she grows closer to the once stranger that she is meant to help with her classwork. 

+18 | third-person omniscient | 1,618 words | Fluffy | College AU | Warnings: Light swearing, mutual pining

A/N: I write new warnings for each part of the story. You are responsible for your own consumption of stories online. DL;DR. As always, if you find anything that needs to have a warning or I mislabeled something, please let me know~ 

Chapter list (ongoing)

"Good evening, Reese." Professor Stark greeted as the girl with the strawberry blonde hair walked briskly past him. Reese had one thing on her mind, and her focus on getting to it almost caused her to ignore her favorite professor entirely. 

"Evening, Professor!" She called back after processing what he had said. She felt it was necessary to reply, not only because it would be rude not to, but because she was his star pupil. 

The chilly air on campus mixed with her rushing movements was enough to make her nose burn. She just needed to get to the library, where her new project awaited. Reese was excited but knew it might not last long once she gets her volunteer hours in for graduation. 

She burst through the double doors of the stone building that the students knew as the library and past the books and bookshelves. The place smelled like old literature and printer ink, which had a nostalgic feeling behind it for Reese. 

Upon spotting the sheet of paper hanging on a lone pillar in the middle of the room, she scurried over and examined it to see if she made the cut:

Tutors:

Peter Parker - Mathematics and History

Jane Foster - Astronomy, Physics, English

Reese Majors - Sciences, Mathematics, Spanish

Harley Keener - Engineering and Robotics 

Please see Professor Stark for details. Office hours 8 AM to 5 PM. 

Once her name was spotted, she immediately turned back around and through the doors again, hoping she might still be able to catch Stark walking back to his office. Reese picked up her pace, running like the former track star she was until she eventually caught back up to Stark. 

"Professor!" She called out between heavy breaths. Man, I need to run more. She thought to herself. Stark pivoted around to face her with a stack of papers in his arm. 

"I knew you were going to the library. You could have just stopped me before, Reese." He laughed, shuffling through the papers until he found the one he needed and pulled it out, handing it to her. "Your orders. You start with two mentees, who have already picked the times that work best for them, and when they understand the subject you're mentoring them in, you sign off on them and I assign you a new mentee. Easy, peasy." He explained. 

Reese scanned the paper for a moment, not fully absorbing the information before thanking Stark and running back to her dorm. 

As always, Reese's roommate Yelena was sprawled out on her bed when Reese arrived. 

"You been doing cardio?" The Russian woman asked, pointing out Reese's shortness of breath. Reese sat at her small desk and skimmed the page that her professor gave her, quickly trying to work out who she was starting with: 

Valkyrie Brunnhilde, Monday and Tuesday, 4 PM, Chemistry

Thor Odinson, Wednesday and Thursday, 3 PM, Calculus

The day was Sunday, so her first tutoring session would be the following day with someone she had never seen or heard of. 

"Who the hell is Valkyrie Brunnhilde?" Reese asked Yelena, still trying to fully catch her breath. Yelena cocked her head,

"Dunno, why do you ask?"

"I'm supposed to be tutoring her and- fucking Thor, of all people- but I have no clue who she is," Reese explained, falling deeper into her desk chair. 

Yelena began to chuckle, "You gotta tutor Thor? That's amazing. It'll be so awkward for you!" She exclaimed. Reese was fully aware of how awkward it would be for her, the only thing that would be worse was if she was tutoring that dumbass Loki or even her old flame Barton. In that respect, she was thankful it was merely Thor. 

"It could be a lot worse, but I'm still not happy," Reese stated aloud. Her roommate thought for a moment before agreeing, 

"Da, it could be. Why even take on this program? You're busy enough already." 

Reese realized how crappy she was about to sound, but if she couldn't be honest with Yelena, she might as well throw in the towel on their friendship. "I need the volunteer hours, and I'm ahead, so I have time to kill." She says with a shrug. 

The blonde rolled her eyes, "Right, it's easier counting on your fingers how many spare hours you have in one day. It's eight, for sleep." She continued to laugh. Reese wasn't offended, as she knew she put herself in this situation. 

Reese sat at a round table in the library getting everything set up and spread out for her first tutoring session. She was nervous not knowing who it was that she was meant to be working with, but excited to be doing it all the same. The only problem was: her mentee was late.

She was bookmarking the pages that Doctor Banner was going over in his chem class when she heard a voice speak up from behind her,

"Excuse me, are you Reese?" The English accent asked. Reese turned her body and was immediately stopped dead in the water by the most gorgeous girl she had ever seen.

It was as if the world stopped turning. This couldn't be my mentee, could she? She's insanely hot! Reese thought to herself, studying her perfect face, long braids, plump lips, and big brown eyes. Reese was always a sucker for brown eyes. Suddenly even more nervous, she responded. 

"I am, yes. And you're Valkyrie?" Reese asked, trying not to trip over her words. The woman smiled at her and Reese's heart froze at the sight: she was simply stunning. 

"Yes, but my friends call me Val." She informed, taking the seat next to her. Val took to Reese right away. When she first entered the library, she saw the nearly-red-headed girl with glasses and hoped, even pleaded with the Gods that she was her tutor. Even if Reese wasn't into women, it would still be a treat to Val's eyes. 

In all of Reese's time at this university, she had never seen Val and was quick to find out why through bits of conversation: she was a transfer student and a sophomore, and ultimately, Reese didn't get out nearly enough to notice this severely captivating woman. Now, she needs help in chemistry: a subject Reese excelled at. Reese was smitten from the jump.

"You sure you need help with this? It seems like you have it down already!" Reese said, complimenting Val for understanding more than she let on. Val gasped,

"Seriously, I don't understand half of this stuff! You just caught me on a good day, I guess." She joked. Reese couldn't imagine Val having a single bad day. Val's laugh was enough to make her nearly double over with heartburn and her smile was so goddamn sweet it made her jaw hurt. 

Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, Did my heart fly at your service. Reese thought of the Shakespeare quote. She was never sappy or cheesy with romance or this drawn to anyone. She couldn't even remember having this feeling when she first met her ex-boyfriend. Yet, she was always a sucker for pretty girls. Oh, the bisexual woman's plight. 

Reese feared that if she were to continue getting lost in her thoughts, she might not be of much help to the beautiful Val but they got a lot done for their first session, though it seemed time went by far too quickly.

The pair parted ways after exchanging numbers, declaring that they would see each other tomorrow. Reese made it back to her dorm, where Yelena asked how it went right away. She explained how it went, sparing details that she wanted to keep for herself.

The following evening, Reese was in the library again, setting up at the same table as before. She was anxious to see Val again and planned on getting to know her better, in between actual tutoring. Once again, Val was late, but Reese didn't mind. 

Once Val arrived, they got to work rather quickly. This, in part, was because Reese wanted to have some time to spare for banter. They were going over the study guide for the upcoming chem exam and to no surprise, Val understood it a lot better after a single explanation. 

"This stuff really wasn't clicking for me before when Banner was teaching it. You're good at this." Val complimented Reese, which made her blush and quickly divert her gaze. God, could I be any more transparent? Reese thought to herself. 

Though it was difficult for Reese to read Val, Val was taking an internal inventory of how much having a pretty girl talk her through things improved her ability to learn. They continued to sit closer and closer together as the lesson went on, each hovering over the packet and Val's body nearly hugging into Reese's. 

Reese wanted to kiss Val, but the idea of even attempting froze her in place. What if she's not into me? What if she's not into women at all? She thought to herself. Val had the same thoughts scrolling through her head like the end credits of a movie. 

Val would have kissed Reese if she was sure. There was a hint that Reese might be okay with it, but something in the girl’s deep green eyes told Val to take her time. She wasn’t against the idea of getting cozy with her tutor, but it appeared that Reese had obvious boundaries. That, or she was nervous. 

"Alright, ladies. Closing time." The library aid spoke up, spinning a keyring around his finger. Reese and Val were both startled out of the moment and backed off from each other, disappointed with their time being cut short. 

Reese hadn't even realized what time it was. She couldn't even remember if they made it through the lesson plan fully or not. She just knew that her time with Val was cut short and she couldn't bring herself to sort out another time to see her before they declared that they would see each other next week. 

[abellinthecupboard]

America

America I've given you all and now I'm nothing. America two dollars and twentyseven cents January 　　　17, 1956. I can't stand my own mind. America when will we end the human war! Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb. I don't feel good don't bother me. I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind. America when will you be angelic? When will you take off your clothes? When will you look at yourself through the grave? When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites? America why are your libraries full of tears? America when will you send your eggs to India? I'm sick of your insane demands. When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I 　　　need with my good looks? America after all it is you and I who are perfect not 　　　the next world. Your machinery is too much for me. You made me want to be a saint. There must be some other way to settle this argument. Burroughs is in Tangiers I don't think he'll come back 　　　it's sinister. Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical 　　　joke? I'm trying to come to the point. I refuse to give up my obsession. America stop pushing I know what I'm doing. America the plum blossoms are falling. I haven't read the newspapers for months, everyday 　　　somebody goes on trial for murder. America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies. America I used to be a communist when I was a kid 　　　I'm not sorry. I smoke marijuana every chance I get. I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses 　　　in the closet. When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid. My mind is made up there's going to be trouble. You should have seen me reading Marx. My psychoanalyst thinks I'm perfectly right. I won't say the Lord's Prayer. I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations. America I still haven't told you what you did to Uncle 　　　Max after he came over from Russia. I'm addressing you. Are you going to let your emotional life be run by 　　　Time Magazine? I'm obsessed with Time Magazine. I read it every week. Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner 　　　candystore. I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library. It's always telling me about responsibility. Business- 　　　men are serious. Movie producers are serious. 　　　Everybody's serious but me. It occurs to me that I am America. I am talking to myself again. Asia is rising against me. I haven't got a chinaman's chance. I'd better consider my national resources. My national resources consist of two joints of 　　　marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable 　　　private literature that goes 1400 miles an hour 　　　and twenty-five-thousand mental institutions. I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of 　　　underprivileged who live in my flowerpots 　　　under the light of five hundred suns. I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers 　　　is the next to go. My ambition is to be President despite the fact that 　　　I'm a Catholic. America how can I write a holy litany in your silly 　　　mood? I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as 　　　individual as his automobiles more so they're 　　　all different sexes. America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 　　　down on your old strophe America free Tom Mooney America save the Spanish Loyalists America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die America I am the Scottsboro boys. America when I was seven momma took me to Com- 　　　munist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a 　　　handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the 　　　speeches were free everybody was angelic and 　　　sentimental about the workers it was all so sin- 　　　cere you have no idea what a good thing the 　　　party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand 　　　old man a real mensch Mother Bloor made me 　　　cry I once saw Israel Amter plain. Everybody 　　　must have been a spy. America you don't really want to go to war. America it's them bad Russians. Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. 　　　And them Russians. The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia's power 　　　mad. She wants to take our cars from out our 　　　garages. Her wants to grab Chicago. her needs a Red Readers' 　　　Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia. 　　　Him big bureaucracy running our fillingsta- 　　　tions. That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read. 　　　Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us 　　　all work sixteen hours a day. help. America this is quite serious. America this is the impression I get from lookin in 　　　the television set. America is this correct? I'd better get right down to the job. It's true I don't want to join the Army or turn lathes 　　　in precision parts factories, I'm nearsighted and 　　　psychopathic anyway. America I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.

— Allen Ginsberg, Howl and Other Poems (1956)

[renatedagmarmilada]

advances viz academia

boys like german

girls like french

ethnics like spanish--

please may I do the literature degree?

no one is doing the german degree you are a mother tongue speaker if you want a place tomorrow - having been suspended from an RGN course at Princess Alexandra Hospital with ninety seven percent and two Sheffield Colleges owing to the research teams games - having terrorised me off a BE’d- on this year’s courses along with a murder or two which are now called manslaughter

you can have a place on the german degree I really don’t want to do german you just don’t understand it is beyond you to understand I never wanted to study german anything but german, please ugh gur hmph ok

year four or was it year two no, that was austrian tourism another clever trick they used at that exam they don’t cut you with a razor here they do other clever destruction ploys Year four then, it must have been- chose a topic my topic german jewry (I had not by then learnt what I now know and was totally loyal to all jewry) well over alloted number of words

Doctor Meyer the weirdo quack he of the fifty or sixty affairs but at least not like their Polish quack who touched up the teenage girl patients (of St Barths Human Research) who gave his wife my art work to use at Topshop the jewish shop as her own and his niece my work to use at Topshop the jewish shop as her own

yes, you remember correctly we lost everything to save jews back then when each day was a miracle that we weren’t caught

this quack wrote a book so the children should know he says using they all say guess what my degree essay

I wouldn’t mind but it was he who called us told the americans we deserved to be tortured used in a game of russian roullette which either death or destruction awaits us all with less chances than the Nazis gave them ..’they were Nazis’ it was he who said ‘everyone from over the water is either a Nazi or a Jew’ to which I took exception having often imagined my grandparents going to bed saying we are alive another day!

He did not ask my permission most of my facts came from a brilliant Hungarian writer gleaned from OXford Uni’s library

they say as they had put us illegally onto a machine at St Barths watched and destroyed our lives all we did and do is theirs that is their excuse

Hungary should begin to think Biro and all her talented children being used so badly in such an evil way when we try harder than anyone

doctors who steal are sick! the Uni essay has gone stolen with all my stories written at Sheffield Uni writer’s group other essays and diary and sketch books filled with Ancient Hebrew Verse (Ancient verse is my passion I adore ancient Chinese verse too) and paintings of impressions of the talks by Rabbi Rothchild of Leeds Roman Road Reform Synagogue -he had read quite a few- stolen from my house to make sure they don’t get caught

doing done do

accused yet again of something I have never done would never dream of doing beyond even my imagination to do

the microsound from the lab St Barths behavioural science who use us as rats just as the jews themselves were used at the experimental camp Five

on this Christmas day for my dad on the day I came to England over half a century ago as a child of seven for Freedom

forgive me for laughing Freedom? to be used for illegal experiments by the lab St Barths Behavioural Science which is the KGB of Britain

they answer to this accusation and taking off all emails which I send to defend myself they take all letters by snow mail

’’We are supposed to pretend you do things which you don’t do and that is supposed to be your undoing With the technological futuristic power given us by America we can do anything You are not allowed one second even of normal time all nations fear us now and play for us in keeping you down and out..’‘

we have loaded a whole lot of new sins onto the doom machine at St Barths all onto your file they said over tv last night two have already come through we use people you know they don’t even know what they are doing even the dear Princess was on this programme

Every one of the innocents whom we lock onto – many- who later often die of rare cancers has their life imprint on the machine we then go through it put all the sins onto your file and the staff practice using the false sins on you and yours to punish you for the world’s crimes another Jesus, female that is at the hands of the British to cover all those at the top wanting to benefit from it all

very few except you who suffer our prison and horrors and ours who make you suffer know the real extent of the advances would not believe their extent especially as few are told even on the top. They still live in world war two and have not moved on. Suits the politicians…

[icarus-suraki]

Please note that there are some minor differences between the recording above and the published poem below.

America Allen Ginsberg

America I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing.

America two dollars and twentyseven cents January 17, 1956.   

I can’t stand my own mind.

America when will we end the human war?

Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb.

I don’t feel good don’t bother me.

I won’t write my poem till I’m in my right mind.

America when will you be angelic?

When will you take off your clothes?

When will you look at yourself through the grave?

When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?

America why are your libraries full of tears?

America when will you send your eggs to India?

I’m sick of your insane demands.

When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?

America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.   

Your machinery is too much for me.

You made me want to be a saint.

There must be some other way to settle this argument.   

Burroughs is in Tangiers I don’t think he’ll come back it’s sinister.   

Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?   

I’m trying to come to the point.

I refuse to give up my obsession.

America stop pushing I know what I’m doing.

America the plum blossoms are falling.

I haven’t read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for murder.

America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.

America I used to be a communist when I was a kid I’m not sorry.   

I smoke marijuana every chance I get.

I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.   

When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.   

My mind is made up there’s going to be trouble.

You should have seen me reading Marx.

My psychoanalyst thinks I’m perfectly right.

I won’t say the Lord’s Prayer.

I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.

America I still haven’t told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over from Russia.

I’m addressing you.

Are you going to let your emotional life be run by Time Magazine?   

I’m obsessed by Time Magazine.

I read it every week.

Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.   

I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.

It’s always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie producers are serious. Everybody’s serious but me.   

It occurs to me that I am America.

I am talking to myself again.

Asia is rising against me.

I haven’t got a chinaman’s chance.

I’d better consider my national resources.

My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable private literature that jetplanes 1400 miles an hour and twentyfive-thousand mental institutions.

I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underprivileged who live in my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns.

I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go.

My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I’m a Catholic.

America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?

I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his automobiles more so they’re all different sexes.

America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe

America free Tom Mooney

America save the Spanish Loyalists

America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die

America I am the Scottsboro boys.

America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother Bloor the Silk-strikers’ Ewig-Weibliche made me cry I once saw the Yiddish orator Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have been a spy.

America you don’t really want to go to war.

America its them bad Russians.

Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.   

The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia’s power mad. She wants to take our cars from out our garages.

Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader’s Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations.

That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read. Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.   

America this is quite serious.

America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.   

America is this correct?

I’d better get right down to the job.

It’s true I don’t want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts factories, I’m nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.

America I’m putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.

A class is reading The Great Gatsby, that perennial high school favorite, and the students each have to do a short presentation on something else that was going on in the 1920s. A student was talking to me about it and listing off some of the topics.

One of the topics is Sacco and Vanzetti. And the tiny Allen Ginsberg who lives in my brain called out through my mouth,

America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die

So then I had twice as much to explain to this poor student, alongside Charles Lindbergh and his flight across the Atlantic and then the mysterious kidnap and murder of the Lindberg Baby.

But my point is that I need to go listen to America again, today in particular. And I really ought to remember

America I’m putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.

[magsinhiding]

America I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing.

America two dollars and twentyseven cents January 17, 1956.

I can’t stand my own mind.

America when will we end the human war?

Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb.

I don’t feel good don’t bother me.

I won’t write my poem till I’m in my right mind.

America when will you be angelic?

When will you take off your clothes?

When will you look at yourself through the grave?

When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?

America why are your libraries full of tears?

America when will you send your eggs to India?

I’m sick of your insane demands.

When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?

America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.

Your machinery is too much for me.

You made me want to be a saint.

There must be some other way to settle this argument.

Burroughs is in Tangiers I don’t think he’ll come back it’s sinister.

Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?

I’m trying to come to the point.

I refuse to give up my obsession.

America stop pushing I know what I’m doing.

America the plum blossoms are falling.

I haven’t read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for murder.

America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.

America I used to be a communist when I was a kid I’m not sorry.

I smoke marijuana every chance I get.

I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.

When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.

My mind is made up there’s going to be trouble.

You should have seen me reading Marx.

My psychoanalyst thinks I’m perfectly right.

I won’t say the Lord’s Prayer.

I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.

America I still haven’t told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over from Russia.

I’m addressing you.

Are you going to let your emotional life be run by Time Magazine?

I’m obsessed by Time Magazine.

I read it every week.

Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.

I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.

It’s always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie producers are serious. Everybody’s serious but me.

It occurs to me that I am America.

I am talking to myself again.

Asia is rising against me.

I haven’t got a chinaman’s chance.

I’d better consider my national resources.

My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable private literature that jetplanes 1400 miles an hour and twentyfive-thousand mental institutions.

I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underprivileged who live in my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns.

I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go.

My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I’m a Catholic.

America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?

I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his automobiles more so they’re all different sexes.

America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe

America free Tom Mooney

America save the Spanish Loyalists

America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die

America I am the Scottsboro boys.

America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother Bloor the Silk-strikers’ Ewig-Weibliche made me cry I once saw the Yiddish orator Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have been a spy.

America you don’t really want to go to war.

America its them bad Russians.

Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.

The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia’s power mad. She wants to take our cars from out our garages.

Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader’s Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations.

That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read. Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.

America this is quite serious.

America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.

America is this correct?

I’d better get right down to the job.

It’s true I don’t want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts factories, I’m nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.

America I’m putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.

[jannamk792]

Learning Languages and How to Make it Fun

How does a child learns? Immersion

So you gotta dive deep

Find songs that you like. You don't have to understand, you just have to enjoy the song.

Listen them at least once a day. The idea is for you to get familiar with the sounds.

Once you have already heard them too many times (without getting tired of them) look for the lyrics. In their native language, not a translation.

If you can read in that language, then try reading them. Print them if you have to or write them down (this is better) and as you listen to the song try to sing.

If there's a word/sentence you like because it sounds pretty, mark it.

If there's a word you don't know how to/can't pronounce, mark it.

For example, I have a journal in which I write Japanesse Kanji that I find beautiful (whether is because of the meaning or the symbol itself is pretty)

Once you are familiar with the song look for a translation.

Check those words you have marked with the translation.

While looking for definitions it's better if you find images (so can have an idea of what that word is) instead of a definition in your language (unless is a long/complicated concept).

Movies, you must watch movies in that language. Better if they are from that country. (It can also be a doubled movie, perhaps you could look for one of your favorites)

Watch them with subtitles (in your language) once or twice. Then watch them again but this time without subtitles or with subtitles of said language. (You already know the plot, so you can still understand what's going on)

If you like to read, look for children literature. It's easy and fun.

Keep reading even if you don't understand a single sh*t. It doesn't matter.

Mark again those words you like, don't know the meaning or can't pronounce.

Write at least one sentence every day. It doesn't have to be right, it doesn't have to be long or poetic, you just gotta write.

If you still don't know much about grammar (enough to formulate a sentence on your own) then write a quote from one of those songs, movies or books you read. Again it doesn't matter if you don't understand what are you writing.

If you already know another language, try to learn the new language with that one. For example, I learn german from english instead of my native language spanish.

Videogames. In my experience this is amazing. You have no idea idea how much I learned english just from games.

You have fun playing, engaged with a story, while constantly hearing the language. You don't even have to pay attention at what they are saying, eventually you'll figure it out. It's very intuitive.

And because games, usually, requires that you spend many hours playing you will have a lot of practice without actually studying.

Some games, if you look on the settings menu, even have other languages instead of english. For example I played Assassin's Creed Brotherhood in italian and french and AsC III in russian and japanese (the voice actors are fantastic).

Seriously, videogames are freaking amazing for learning.

The idea of this, is that you can imitate the learning process a child does, while also having fun and enjoying it. Kids learn by making mistakes, by playing with words and by being constantly surrounded with the language. At first, kids have no idea what they are doing, they just repeat what they see and hear. So it's okay if you don't know what are you doing, take that pressure off. This is not school/college, this is just you trying to learn a culture. So be kind and patient with yourself.

LEARNING SHOULD BE FUN, be creative with your methods and try everything (so you can find what you are comfortable with). It is scientifically proved that if you like what you are studying and having fun it will be 10x easier to assimilate and remember the knowledge you are acquiring.

CREDIT @ this-seemed-like-a-good-idea 

[the-kings-of-games]

I forget how much of this I've already mentioned, but here's some new stuff:

When he first left the Satellite and became King of Neo Domino, Jack had access to education for the first time, and like the starved child he grew up as, he devoured every book he could get his hands on, which included a lot of children's books in other languages. (He likes nice and colorful pictures, can't blame him.) After that, he learned to read and write Japanese, but he didn't stop them as he expanded into English, French, Mandarin, and Spanish. (Rex got him language teachers at his requests.) Jack learned he got a knack and interests in languages as it broadens bigger horizons for him intellectually and culturally. He's actually very good at picking up new languages, and he keeps himself from growing rusty by reading books, sometimes out loud, regularly.

He also puts himself out there by talking to people who can speak languages he learned, but it's only in S2 that he demonstrates his multilingualism and knowledge more freely. Because Crow is has a delivery service, Jack makes him take him to places where he can talk to people in their native language so he can practice and get real life experience. (They love him for genuinely trying and wanting to learn about the culture.) Crow starts picking up some of the languages too because he learns pretty well by listening and watching, though he doesn't get much into the reading and writing like Jack. (He's good at conversational language but not formal—English being a small exception.) Jack gets really into when he meets someone who's read the things he's had, and he loves getting book recommendations. That being said, he will not hesitate to debate on books if someone challenges him, lololol. He's becomes the guy who's known to shout at old men over their taste in literature.

Going back a bit, once he's moved into Poppo Time, Jack goes to study two more languages: Russian and Arabic.

Post-series, in between and during his tournaments, he gets a few degrees, namely in Japanese linguistics and literature, and French linguistics and literature (because Sherry dares him too offhandedly). During his career, he will go on to make himself an enemy (affectionate) of two universities, one which Yūsei teaches at part-time in Japan and one which Haldor does his historical and mythological research in Sweden. This man fearlessly and egotistically goes after the humanities departments, and they love/hate his entire existence. (One day, he's mocking a professor's lecture, and the next day, he's substituting a Spanish class.) He also goes on to learn Swedish and Greek.

Yūsei, 30: Jack, I can't believe I'm saying this, but stop getting degrees.

Jack, 31: But why? [huffs]

Yūsei: Because w're running out of wall space for your degrees.

Jack: We can just buy a second house.

Crow, 29: Absolutely not.

List of languages Jack knows:

Japanese (native)

English (S1)

French (S1)

Madarin (S1)

Spanish (S1)

Russian (S2)

Arabic (S2)

Swedish (post-series)

Greek (post-series)

You guys wanna to know more about humanities major Jack Atlas? 👀👀👀

[pathologicopera]

NOT A TREATMENT I.I: WHAT IS OPERA?

you know? opera. you probably have at least a vague idea about what opera is, especially if you’re following this blog, because i have not shut up about it since i was eight. i am, however, very aware that not everybody actually has a complete idea of what opera actually is, so while i’m not going to do a 101 because that would be annoying for both of us, i will take you through it in a level of detail.

the very short answer to the question of what opera is is, basically, opera is a story set to music. generally it will be sung through (no dialogue), but this isn’t a rule. most of the best known operas are in italian, german, french, and russian but there are some in english and czech that are quite well know. many different cultures have opera (or music-drama, or whatever you want to call it), etc.

the reason it’s quite difficult to pin down what an opera is is because opera is a similarly broad descriptor to, for example, “book”, or “game”. yes, there are broad strokes that will be carried across the entire genre of Opera or Book or Game, but replying to “what sort of thing do you like to read?” with “books” is unhelpful. likewise, replying to “what sort of entertainment do you like?” with “opera” is, while possibly helpful in the broadest sense, similarly useful and descriptive to describing “books” as your favourite form of literature.

for one thing, the fact that opera as a genre has spanned several centuries and been created by hundreds of cultures means that saying that opera is your favourite form of entertainment could mean virtually anything. do you mean, for example, chinese opera? or do you mean 17th century italian favola in musica such as l’orfeo? do you like 20th century english opera by composers such as benjamin britten, or perhaps comic operas like mozart’s, from the 18th century?

i, personally, really like giuseppe verdi, an italian composer from the 19th century. but some people can’t stand him and prefer the next Big Operatic School, verismo (small stories about ordinary people). opera has... shall we say an unfortunate reputation as something that’s really only for rich old white people that opera houses don’t really know how to combat (sidenote: i loved the “are you opera enough?” campaign from the lyric. i used to think i was opera enough, but now i’m not sure). i have opinions on what to do about that but i won’t get into it here.

the thing relevant to what i’m trying to get across here, though, that opera is, is the fact that opera can often be a way of telling stories about very large, overarching things with a fairly small number of people. an opera about, for example, the concept of religious repression, or even the idea of the spanish inquisition, would be at best unwieldy and at worst awful. verdi’s opera don carlo, on the other hand, manages to get the point across and is only preachy with it like... once, but i don’t mind.