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daenystheedreamer · 7 months ago

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faith dashboard simulator

💙 maidenlover Follow

its actually so faithphobic that so called "friends of rhaena" have appropriated maiden devotion... it sexualises a very personal relationship with a real facet of the seven that many of us have ACTUALLY DEVOTED OUR LIVES TO

⚢ rhaelissatruther

girl you forgot to private your likes you're one of us

💎 mothermaidenhoe

🕯️traedwyfe Follow

🎶 red orange yellow green blue indigo purples in the sky

summer's in the air and baby, seven heavens' in your eyes 🎶

#the rainbow faith #rainbow not rhaena #laena of dell rae AKA the lady bard #dollaette #coqaette #faithofthesevenedit #please i'm a star #septa urge #lady manipulator #light acaedaemia

⚔️ knightofthefaith

FUCK they're sending me to be the septon of the night's watch... girl you know what they do to sexy slender wide eyed septons like myself!!!

#PRAYING theyre sexy murderers not uggo ones... manifesting

⭐️ brideofhugor Follow

No. You know what? F*** Y'ALL.

As many of you know I have recently been assigned to a certain castle in the stormlands and have been aiding the maester in reorganising the large library.

I just found several illuminated manuscript of an er*tic nature detailing s*xual acts of septas and septons. Including one of Hugor (blessed he be) Himself.

I don't expect much of you SINNERS (we all know of the recent poll circulating...) but sexualising those who devote themselves to loving only the gods... and crucially making the choice to remain celibate in this mission... the audacity. Enjoy the Seven Hells!

🫦 swordinyourstar

im gonna go to a septry fuck all those bald brothers so hard the hair in their tonsures grow back cos my seed is THAT strong

#why are they called holy brothers if im not supposed to fuck their holes

🔘 old-friends-senior-seven-septry-deactivated-101AC

I just want to get dicked down again =/

🌠 faith-struggle-posts

official faith struggle post

🌟 starrysepta

i do finally feel at home finally out of my noviciate and as a full septa of the faith but they do NAWT tell you how catty your sisters will be... they sent me to a motherhouse in the WESTERLANDS just outside of lannisport 💀 if another one of these fake bitches tries currying favour with house lannister im gonna get myself sent to the silent sisters.

🌟 starrysepta

beheading myself omg another suspiciously blonde-haired green-eyed hill surname haver has joined the noviciate please mother above get me reassigned to the vale id rather risk getting stolen by a mountain clansmen over having to deal with this whore

#girl he's not gonna legitimise you #and she's having an affair with the laybrother too but like whatever im not a lickspittle

🪽 rivermaiden

the mother of my motherhouse 100% got dicked by our local lord back in the day maybe now too and its ruining my life. she keeps speaking in metaphors about the warrior entering the maiden and its making everyone soooo uncomfortable. AND he's the lord of a certain castle in the riverlands stars with h ends in arrenhal and i swear he's bringing the fucking demons into our sept everytime he visits

#cryyyyingggg i survived the riverlands for one-and-twenty years only to die of blood curse cos knights love chasing septa pusswah omg cant have shit in the riverlands

🌈 septa-septon-suggestions Follow

forever hoping that the light of the seven will one day shine over all westeros ✨

🍁 hearttreehugger Follow

don't go near any weirwoods bitch im watching you 👁️

#had this in my drafts for ages adding fake posts at like 1am when inspiration would strike. letting her free now #asoiaf #dashboard simulator #yinnie artgallery #had to navigate picsart to make that banner it was evil #faith of the seven

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leonieanderson · 2 years ago

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_May you walk in the consciousness of the blessed assurance that nothing goes wrong in your life because you trust God. May your confidence in the infallibility of God's word silence the nuances of opposing forces. May your life and relationship blossom and flourish, planted in God. Freshness and stability enters your life. Your season of draught, worry and dryness has ended. You are in your productive season. Declare this loud: *I am blessed and highly favoured*****.

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thyra279 · 5 years ago

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Clan colours

Ended up writing this instead of going to bed last night. For day 2 of the Good Omens Celebrations.

Prompts: Contrast (and Cotton)

"…What?" Not-quite-Crowley-Crowley stared at him, mouth agape, an expression which did Aziraphale's poor old corporation absolutely no favours.

"I said, could you give me a twirl?"

"I'm still a bloody demon for a few hours longer, Angel, I'm not gonna twirl. Do me the favour of letting me die with my dignity intact."

"Crowley." The sharpness of Aziraphale’s admonishment was swallowed by the concrete walls of Crowley's living room. Their owner sighed.

"I'm kidding Aziraphale, we're gonna be fine. Just a nice little trip up- and downstairs for us, a cosy heart-to-heart with some archangels and the dukes of Hell." Crowley's voice softened at the angel’s disapproval, sounding oddly mild in Aziraphale's throat. "And then we'll be right as rain."

"I know that, dear. I hope you do too. Have a little faith."

"Erh, 's a bit of a touchy subject for me."

"Have faith in Agnes Nutter, then."

Crowley shifted awkwardly in the foreign corporation. The lofty sniff he managed was more his own. "I've met quite a lot of witches in my time and believe me, most of them are not to be trusted. The things they tried to do to us poor devils. Tricky bunch. Verrrry tricky bunch. Quite a few of them were positively debauched, and that's coming from a demon who's terrifically debauched himself, you know."

Aziraphale managed to disguise his snort as a throaty sneeze.[1] "Ble- gesundheit. Did I ever tell you about that weirdo with the black cat and massive warty nose up in Staffordshire?"

"You did, yes. Several times a century for the last 400 years. I believe you've told most of the northern hemisphere by now."

"She tried to fly on a broomstick, Aziraphale. A broomssssstick."

"Yes, dear." Crowley mimed vaguely at sweeping the floor and shook Aziraphale's head before falling into bewildered contemplation. Aziraphale took the opportunity to hike up the metaphorical bootstraps of Crowley's unruly corporation to circle around Crowley and his own corporation. It was an odd reversal of their ritual, familiar and disconcerting all at once. The reflection in the dark glass windows at the end of the room belied the oddness of the scene, the undercurrent of worry in both of them. And still, there in the window was the comforting lankiness of Crowley, though a little stiffer than normal. And there, his own slightly stuffier corporation.

Aziraphale turned to look at the real version of it. It had been close to thirty years since the last time he'd really looked at himself. He liked his corporation, always had. It was nowhere near as disarmingly lascivious as Crowley's, yet it had its own charm, a warmth and comfort which easily won over humans and, it seemed, at least one otherworldly being too.

It may have very recently undergone some major restorative work, but it looked more or less the same as it had for the last 6000 years. His clothes, however, caught his interest.

"Are you checking me out, Angel?"

"No, dear, I am taking the opportunity to, ah, check out myself."

"Ah. Can't blame ya, good call."

"Oh hush. I'm taking a look at my attire, Crowley."

Aziraphale's garments told a story themselves, reminders of little not-so-chance encounters and long-planned secret evenings together. Which genre the story belonged to he couldn’t bear to contemplate tonight.

Aziraphale knew Crowley's clothes, even the new ones, could have recited every tailored line had he had the audience.[2] He had never really paid his own clothes the same courtesy, and now, he may not have the chance again.

The demon stood still, let him survey his beloved khaki coat, find the innocent-looking shoulder that Crowley had blown clean only days earlier. The fraying waistcoat that might seem past its expiration date but had at least another decade in it. He hoped it would get it.

The cotton-blend bowtie he'd started wearing just before that evening in the church when…-

It had quickly become his favourite accessory. He'd tried out a cravat during some years in the 1950s and 60s. It had suited him rather well, he'd thought. And yet, he'd kept coming back to the bow tie, to the beloved lines of the tartan and their soft reassurances around his neck. He hadn't gone a day without it since 1967.

Heaven’s Dress. He'd rather liked the look and feel of his uniform during the Celestial War (it had been the only part of the War he'd been enthusiastic about). The tartan had seemed like a revelation; a rare surprise in those small days before Earth. After an eternity in strictly monotone fabrics - eggshell, vanilla, ivory or sheer white - the audacity of different shades mashing up together in such close proximity had been thrilling. It had made such a big impression on him that he'd seized the opportunity to popularise the pattern when it arose a few millennia later.

He’d got the chance when he developed Edinburgh in the 16th century. Crowley had been too busy working on Glasgow himself to bother Aziraphale much and so, he’d had plenty of free time.

Now, contrary to popular belief, it was Aziraphale who introduced tartan to Scotland, not the other way round. It had been a simple enough thing to slip in, during his town planning meetings, and the Scots had taken to tartan like, well, like chickens to water or whatever it was Crowley had said. His tartan venture had been quite the success for the Principality.[3] So much so he’d decided to have a go at the weaving himself and reproduce the one he’d seen in Heaven an eternity ago.

And he really had gone in fully intending to weave up the beige-on-beige tartan in honour of Heaven. When he’d looked at the result, however, it had seemed just a little off. After a week's contemplation and rather more than just the angel's share of whisky, he'd realised that Heaven's pattern was bland. It was too beige, lacked any form of nuance or depth. What it was lacking, he’d come to realise, was a bit of contrast.

And so, Aziraphale had played around a little, had added a little darker shading here and there, then wound a gentle red line from left to right across the pattern. Before he knew it, thin twin red-and-nearly-black lines had slithered up from the bottom of the pattern too, wrapping themselves around the softer diagonals, and Aziraphale’s tartan had come together. It was certainly unusual, but to Aziraphale, it had felt just right. He'd named it Heaven's Dress as he’d set out to do. The blessings and protections he'd wound into the fabric had had nothing to do with Heaven, however.

A rather pointed cough roused him from his musings. "Am I witnessing the dawning realisation that tartan’s really terribly unstylish?" Crowley was looking at him, fretting hands tucked into loose linen trousers.

"Not quite." Aziraphale offered up a little smile at the sight of his tartan now guarding Crowley’s neck. The demon looked at him expectantly, but Aziraphale left out his usual retort.

Eventually, Crowley sighed and crossed his arms. "I do have faith, you know."

"You do?"

"Yeah." The demon looked down at himself. "I have faith in you." He picked up his wineglass and staggered over next to Aziraphale to flop down into his throne with as much flair as Aziraphale's corporation could manage. "Tell you what, Angel. If we make it out of there ali- unscathed and get to Berkeley Square as planned, I'll twirl all the way from there to the bloody Ritz for you, how's that?"

"Very well, dear. You know, I think I'll indulge in a slice of their Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte. When we get there. And we will. I have every faith in both of us." Aziraphale straightened the bow tie and gave Crowley's cheek two quick pets. He set off on a practice saunter through Crowley's cavernous apartment to perform a little stylish miracle where it wouldn't be heard, doubling back on the way out of the door. "I'll look forward to your whirligigs."

“...What?!”

[1] To his knowledge, neither he nor Crowley had ever sneezed in the entirety of their existences, but Crowley seemed too preoccupied to notice.

[2] Aziraphale had found receptive audiences on a few occasions. One time in 1979, in a bar with a bunch of UCL students in SoHo, he'd spoken so passionately on the nuances of black in Crowley's wardrobe he'd been rather alarmed to find he'd accidentally started Goth subculture.

[3] Aziraphale had been really very miffed indeed when the English conjured up the Dress Act of 1746 and banned the use of tartan. He'd made sure to block every subsequent attempt by the English to change their national anthem to anything more stirring than the dull monotony of "God Save the Queen". Even he can see the pettiness of this, and yet he keeps at it to this day.

I’m collecting all my Celebration ficlets over on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24037873/chapters/57837565

Inspired by this lovely meta post on Aziraphale’s tartan: https://bluebandedagate.tumblr.com/post/187971072711/a-discourse-on-tartan

#goc2020 #good omens celebration #goodomenscelebration #good omens ficlet #tartan #ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale #not a lockdown fic should probably be doing a lockdown fic today

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space-blue · 4 years ago

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Who Criminals Pray To

Third competition win.

"Won't you stop shaking that fucking leg of yours?" Mike mutters behind ground teeth. "I'll cut it off if it bothers you that much."

"Look at that bunch of street punks," I whisper back without trying to bring my leg under control. "Just look at them, so little respect, no gravity."

"It's your damn job to groom the newbies Sean."

"I didn't make the timetable. Go figure why the boss felt like we should introduce them to the God this session. Certainly wasn't my idea."

"Can't blame the runts for being excited though. What kind of crazy rotten luck is it to be here same as the Dons of all people?"

"Want me to call them off?"

Mike chews on his lips, purple and split from a bout in whatever hovel he decided to cool his temper in this weekend. Being second in command in the Phobos family isn't exactly a relaxing job. Mike likes to go out with the grunts, rough up some locals late on payments or little dealers trying to cut corners. I find my own releases elsewhere.

"Nah. Good test of character, this."

I'm not so sure. I look up at our five new recruits, mingling with four counterparts of the Don family, jabbing fingers in puffed up chests and engaging in sharp banter. I assume many first met in the streets. All our new boys were urchins not even a year ago. I read their small, single-paged files, hastily written by the people in charge of them throughout our organisation. I talked to them, tried to educate them as much as I could, grinding rituals in their skulls. At the end of the day I don't think they really understand what we're doing here. After all, urchins have no God. Raised around the ovens of a small bakery, I was brought up pious. If object have spirits, places guardian gods, concepts emanations and trades patron saints, it only makes sense to know how to mind your manners and deal with the deities that rule your life. My mother taught me to keep household spirits happy before I could walk, and my father saved our nicest breads and pastries as offerings. He brought me with him whenever he went for donations. The God of bakers loved us like we loved him, and our dough rose high, our pastries stayed crisp and I never saw a mouse in the shop. When I went to school, I paid monthly tributes to the God of students and emanation of knowledge and curiosity. So when I became a gang member and joined the Phobos family, I paid just as scrupulous respects to the God of criminals. I understand the concept in a manner our former-urchins-turned-street-thugs can't. To them the God is a boss on top of the boss, too high up the hierarchy to care about them. But they're criminals now, and their success in that new line of business will depend on proper devotion.

"What is the boss doing?" I ask Mike for the tenth time this evening, not trying to hide the worry in my voice.

"Can't be long. The Dons are waiting too, see. Maybe Phobos is busy cutting that fat fuck's fingers right outside?"

Mike smiles lopsidedly at the images that conjures, but it's unlikely. You don't misbehave like that around your God's place. You're not late either. It goes without saying that you don't get in arguments or fist-fights in the ante-chamber, which I'm starting to worry our boys might have forgotten. I look up across the small waiting room to where another collection of rickety chairs hold equally anxious higher-ups from the Don family, also waiting on their boss so that the ceremony of Gift-giving and Induction can begin. There is Franky, the Don's son and right arm, and Tilda, a cold-eyed woman you really don't want to meet on the other side of a negotiation table. The man glancing back at me over his glasses is Charles Morrow, a fine fellow with a blade of a face who holds a similar position to mine in his own gang. He raises his eyebrows in silent acknowledgement. I close my eyes and sigh. Let's hope the God is in a forgiving mood.

A bang and a yelp snap me back to attention. Phobos slammed the door into the men and is storming through, a package under his arm and a puffing, angry red Erzo Don on his heels, still biting on the last words of whatever argument they were having. Each group folds over their boss and everyone pays last minute attention to the gifts they brought and the fine clothes they wear. Phobos is a tall man, sharp and well cut, just like the black suits he favours, and known as the coldest mobster on this coast. He exchanges quiet words with Mike, and pats my elbow briefly. The man's way of making up for the stress he knows he's been giving me. Activity dies down as a servant enters the room to unlock the inner chamber's doors. We shuffle to our positions by hierarchical order and I glance at my charges one last time.

"Remember, don't react, keep it all in!"

They nod, worry finally settling on their young faces as the solemnity of the event dawns on them. For such a bunch of misfits, they do me proud. All I can hear is sharp intakes of breath as their eyes fall on the deity who will soon learn their name and hold their fates in its heart. The God of transgression, patron saints of criminals and emanation of rule-breaking, looks like a child and a monster. Five years old if you had to put an age on it, with sandy blond hair parting around little horns that poke from its forehead and the crown of its head. Some are black and keratinous, some the off-white of ivory. Its skin is unhealthily pale, cheeks oddly flushed. Its pinched, lipless mouth betrays no feelings. But the real unease comes from the eyes. One dark and filled with odd lights, the other white and full of colourful swirls, both huge and sparkling, somehow. Alien. The child-like being sits on a large pillow atop a carpeted dais, its servants kneeling behind it. Like the building, they are paid for by donations, one of the many ways we show our love to the God.

"Greetings!" Don booms, stepping up to deliver his offering. "I present you with these gifts, my dea–"

Don's words die in his throat, silenced by a small hand, raised palm out.

"Erzo Don, what do you think you are doing here?"

The God's voice is high as a child's but its inflections are nuanced, its tone menacing.

"Well... We've come to presen–"

"You annoy me."

The pressure rises in the room and I feel goosebumps all over my skin. The God stands, face as blank as marble.

"I am the God of criminals, Don. I patron thieves, liars, racketeers, yes. People who live on the margins of the larger society. But if there is one thing I don't condone, it is lying to me."

The God steps down towards Don. I see the sweat drenching him, Morrow's bloodless face, Tilda's hand all white-knuckled around Frank's wrist and their new men's confused expressions. What have they done?

"You can't go and grovel to the God of killers and murderers thinking I wouldn't know about it. Did you not think of your family? Of me?"

"God, but it was only a sid–"

"Go."

Silence hangs over us like a corpse at the end of a fraying rope. There is nothing to do but to obey. One word that ends a whole family business, maybe a fifth of the local territory, suddenly up for dispute. Chaos will engulf them, they will have no divine support.

I'm still thinking of the consequences as the door closes behind the last of them and Phobos steps up, offering the content of his package like nothing happened. It's two hands sawed at the wrists and held together by handcuffs. Charming–and it makes the God smile. Mike is next, showing his split lips and telling his tales. The God nods along, used to the urban-outlaw-cowboy style of our second-in-command. And then it's me, embracing the being my success in life depends on. He's done me good and I love it like I loved the pudgy God that ate our bread and blessed us for it.

"What have you for me Sean?" The child-God asks as I cup its pallid face in my scarred hands.

"A secret," I murmur in its ear. "The cops are coming to crack on the riverside locations. I tipped them to great profit."

The God chuckles, looking up at me with the same adoration I feel for it. It squeezes my hand and waves for me to introduce our new members. What's a spy to the emanation of rule breaking? Nothing more than a good devotee.

~~ June 2017 – Theme : Gangsters and Crime Lords

#original story #original work #competition #win #fantasy

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cancatervation · 7 years ago

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favourite music 2017

The affording of enormous weight to barely concealed fragility and vulnerability; when I pore over the contents of my iTunes from the last twelve or so months it’s plainly apparent that this is the hill I’ve elected to die on. Almost all the albums I found myself infatuated with at some point or another in 2017 meditated upon desire, the transience of romance, and the anguish that often accompanies its pursuit.

I’m acutely aware of how oddly this contrasts with my own life, which for the past almost-two-years has been romantically fulfilling in the way that my previous 25 absolutely weren’t. On this, I would say two things. First, that stability is elusive even (maybe especially?) for the most outwardly rose-coloured of us, and that maintaining relationship hygge takes compromise and is not easy, and for those reasons feelings of vulnerability are never far from the front of my mind; and, second, that it’s testament to the skill of certain songwriters and performers that their work was able to make this gay-ass conventionalist really feel something every now and again last year.

I wouldn’t want to suggest that I only just worked out that the theatrical presentation of desire is something I’m drawn to, but certainly there were some things in the past year that I really did begin to understand. Theatricality is often used in a critical sense as pejorative; something that is too extra, that goes too far, that is all tell and no show. Despite its predisposition towards excess, musical theatre has, for instance, always played out as sterile and spurious to me. (Sorry. And look at it this way, you don’t ever need to worry about getting me tickets to Hamilton). It’s so dramatic that it becomes too dramatic; your self-awareness isn’t allowed the chance to be suspended, even for a moment. An album like Lorde’s Melodrama makes its intentions apparent before you’ve even heard a note of it, but its theatrics (and there are many - think of the wailed chorus of “Writer In The Dark”, the gory car crash of “Homemade Dynamite”, the bridge in “Supercut” that accelerates like you’re on a bike rushing down a hill) are as easily consumed by sitting silently in tears as they are dancing, or walking, or lifting heavy weights, or running up a hill (to make or not to make a deal with God), or lying in blissful supta baddha konasana. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that hyperemotional vulnerability is for all seasons and for all hours of the day and I am now happy to welcome it into every aspect of my life.

I wrote over fifty blurbs for various songs on the Singles Jukebox last year. Some I loved, some I hated, what’s new. I wrote a blurb for “Praying”, Kesha’s first solo single in nearly five years, which turned out to be both the highest scoring song on the site for 2017 and the champion of my personal “list”. I sort of said all this already on the Jukebox, but my love for “Praying” lies nearly entirely in the way Kesha leans so heavily into her aphorisms, finding new ways to bring profundity to ostensibly simple lines like “I’m proud of who I am”. (Contrast this with most of Taylor Swift’s 2017 work, which forewent specific detail in favour of portentously loaded maxim, but forgot about nuance and came up mostly dry). When Kesha punctuates her sermon with a thunderous kick drum, it’s basically game over. As the stories of survivors of sexual assault, abuse and harassment began to dominate news media in the second half of the year, the song only gathered further resonance.

Lorde’s album held court as my favourite for most of the year. A promo image released by Kelela at the beginning of August threatened a coup. The odds shortened a few days later upon the release of its lead single and the arrival of the full album at the beginning of October marked the tangible takeover. Take Me Apart is all juxtaposition, which when applied to albums is often code for jumbled quagmire, but here there’s too much attention to detail, steadfastness of narrative, and, er, feeling, to get mixed up in anything like that. It see-saws between playful flirting, introspection, self-acceptance, control, loss of control, falling slowly through the sky, and falling fast through the abyss. I love it so much. It’s also very queer and very Black. Support Black queer art! Especially when it’s this well crafted.

Aside from all THAT, my favourite things in music last year were Moses Sumney’s Tiny Desk Concert, attending the Lorde show in the Botanic Gardens, the line “every single day I fight another war; every single night I feel more powerful!” in Rina Sawayama’s “Take Me As I Am”, and Rihanna telling Diplo his music sounded like a “a reggae song at an airport”.

My ten favourite songs of 2017 were:

1. Kesha “Praying” - as above and here;

2. Lorde “Green Light” - see here. The score given, however, is wrong. Add another point.

3. Sigrid “Strangers” - see here. I can’t wait until she’s everywhere and everyone knows her; her potential to me scans as “unlimited / infinite / fucking enormous, if it must be quantifiable”.

4. MUNA “I Know a Place”. The album version is acceptable but I’m also partial to this live one, which involves some changes to the lyrics.

5. Tove Lo “Disco Tits”. Like a wonky, filthy Kylie B-side played underwater.

6. Kelela “Turn To Dust”. Refer also to the first set of songs below. She didn’t play this at her concert this week, which is lucky, because otherwise its title may have proved prophetic.

7. Nilüfer Yanya “Baby Luv” - see here. See also dirgey diatribe above re: vulnerability.

8. Rae Morris “Do It” - I’ve become more and more besotted with this as time has passed and am not sure whether I’m most impressed by a) the wordplay b) the ping-ponging percussion in the second verse c) the subtle yet giant switch-up halfway through d) the soaring vocals or e) managing all of the above in less than 3 and a half minutes.

9. Rina Sawayama “Alterlife” - it did not take me long to request for lamination of a stan card for a popstar who loves key changes and here deftly incorporates influences as diverse as the Need For Speed soundtrack, Samantha Mumba and Madonna at her glassiest.

10. Tove Styrke “Mistakes” - see here. I’m ready for her to run away with 2018, in or out of a wedding dress.

Aside from those, here are some other songs I enjoyed in 2017, variously categorised and (with the “top 10″) collected in a Spotify playlist, located here:

Songs that can make you feel like you’re floating slowly heavenward

Björk “Arisen My Senses”

Charli XCX “Track 10”

Julie Byrne “Natural Blue”

Julien Baker “Appointments”

Moses Sumney “Quarrel”

Rae Morris “Do It (Nico Muhly Dance Remix)”

Sampha “(No One Knows Me) Like The Piano”

Sevdaliza “Loves Way”

Slowdive “Slomo”

St. Vincent “Slow Disco”

Susanne Sundfør “Undercover”

Dance music that I barely pay any attention to throughout the calendar year and then become unusually enthusiastic about come end-of-year-list season

Bicep “Vale”

Gerd Janson x Shan "Surrender”

Honey Dijon “Catch The Beat”

Jad & The “Strings That Never Win”

Kink “Perth”

Minor Science “Volumes”

Octo Octa “Adrift (Avalon Emerson’s Furiously Awake Version)”

Shanti Celeste “Make Time”

SW. “Untitled B2”

The xx “On Hold (Jamie xx Remix)”

Yaeji “Raingurl”

Songs for the summer gloaming

Charlotte Day Wilson “Doubt”

Daniel Caesar “Blessed”

Frank Ocean “Chanel”

Jessie Ware “Stay Awake, Wait For Me”

Ladi6 “Guru”

Rachel Foxx “Happen To Me”

Sampa The Great “Bye River”

Sevyn Streeter “Before I Do”

Syd “Body”

Tyler, The Creator “Garden Shed feat. Estelle”

Plaintive songs for grey afternoon walks

Alvvays “Dreams Tonite”

Amandla Stenberg “Let My Baby Stay”

HAIM “You Never Knew”

Kehlani “Advice”

Khalid “Winter”

Lana Del Rey “Love”

Laura Marling “Next Time”

Paramore “Forgiveness”

Perfume Genius “Die 4 You”

St. Vincent “Happy Birthday, Johnny”

SZA “Prom”

Taylor Swift “New Year’s Day”

Best bangers

Amber Mark “Heatwave”

Charli XCX “Lipgloss feat. Cupcakke”

Charli XCX “Porsche feat. MØ”

Charlotte Gainsbourg “Deadly Valentine”

Charly Bliss “Glitter”

Drake “Get It Together feat. Jorja Smith & Black Coffee”

Dua Lipa “New Rules”

Haiku Hands “Not About You”

Ibibio Sound Machine “Give Me A Reason”

ionnalee “Samaritan”

J. Balvin x Willy William “Mi Gente feat. Beyoncé”

J. Hus “Did You See”

Jessie Ware “Your Domino”

Jorja Smith x Preditah “On My Mind”

Kah-Lo “Fasta”

Kelela “Truth Or Dare”

Kendrick Lamar “LOYALTY. feat. Rihanna”

Kllo “Last Yearn”

Leikeli47 “Miss Me”

Lorde “Sober”

Maliibu Miitch “4AM”

Miguel “Banana Clip”

Nite Jewel “2 Good 2 Be True”

Paramore “Hard Times”

Phoenix “J-Boy”

Rina Sawayama “Take Me As I Am”

Ronika “Better Than Ever”

Rose Elinor Dougall “All At Once”

Sigrid “Don’t Kill My Vibe”

Stormzy “Big For Your Boots”

The Horrors “Something To Remember Me By”

Tove Lo “Shedontknowbutsheknows”

Whethan “love gang feat. Charli XCX”

Wolf Alice “Don’t Delete The Kisses”

Finally, here are thirty albums I loved last year. Onwards and upwards!

1. Kelela Take Me Apart

2. Lorde Melodrama

3. SZA Ctrl

4. Fever Ray Plunge

5. Charly Bliss Guppy

6. Wolf Alice Visions Of A Life

7. Rina Sawayama RINA

8. Jessie Ware Glasshouse

9. Tove Lo Blue Lips

10. Charli XCX Pop 2

11. MUNA about u

12. Moses Sumney Aromanticism

13. Sevdaliza ISON

14. St Vincent MASSEDUCTION

15. Susanne Sundfør Music For People In Trouble

16. Ibeyi Ash

17. Sampa The Great Birds & The Bee9

18. Kink Playground

19. Daniel Caesar Freudian

20. Bicep Bicep

21. Sophia Kennedy - Sophia Kennedy

22. Miguel War & Leisure

23. Laura Marling Semper Femina

24. Ibibio Sound Machine Uyai

25. Jen Cloher Jen Cloher

26. Dua Lipa Dua Lipa

27. The xx I See You

28. Honey Dijon The Best Of Both Worlds

29. Kesha Rainbow

30. Leikeli47 Wash & Set

#music #musicwriting #2017 #2017music

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bigyack-com · 5 years ago

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Good Newwz movie review: Akshay Kumar, Kareena Kapoor deliver a complete entertainer - bollywood

Good Newwz Cast: Akshay Kumar, Kareena Kapoor Khan, Diljit Dosanjh, Kiara Advani Director: Raj Mehta Good Newwz brings glad tidings– we get a talented cast led by Akshay Kumar and Kareena Kapoor Khan, a story that resonates with parents and those desperate to begin their family, and a delightful mix of comedy and emotions that never gets preachy. Debut director Raj Mehta deals with a rather serious subject of two couples opting for IVF (In-vitro Fertilisation) with a generous mix of comedy and emotions. An urban comedy with its heart in the right place, Good Newwz just hits the right spot. Watch the trailer for Good Newwz: The basic premise of Good Newwz was established in trailer itself. There are the posh Batras — a high-flying journalist Deepti (Kareena) and a sales executive Varun (Akshay) versus the loud Batras — homemaker Monika (Kiara Advani) and god-knows-what-does-he-do-for-a-living Honey (Diljit Dosanjh) from Chandigarh. After several failed attempts at conceiving a baby naturally, both the couples consult Mumbai’s best fertility doctors (Adil Hussain and his wife Tisca Chopra) and opt for IVF. As they await the good news, the doctor shares a rather negligent sperm mix-up, leaving both the couples in a state of agony and helplessness. A series of hilarious events follow as the couples come to terms with the unusual situation they are in.

Kiara picks up the nuances of her Punjabi character really well but never goes overboard. The deliberate light-hearted treatment of such a serious subject is entertaining. Even though Mehta gives ample scope to his actors to perform and do what they’re best at, he doesn’t let them step out of the vision he has for the film. Mehta, Jyoti Kapoor and Rishabh Sharma pen some clever and witty dialogues: just like the mix-up of sperms, there’s an uproarious mix-up of words too as sperm becomes spam, flush is pronounced as flesh, honours turns into hawners, morni becomes ovary, and so on. Having said that, a couple of off-track jokes do fall flat but thankfully they are few and far between. Another thing that works in favour of Good Newwz is its straight narrative which doesn’t complicate the already complicated central premise. Even the transition from comedy to drama, especially in the last one hour, is so finely executed that you don’t realize when you get transported into another zone and when laughter takes a backseat and you feel tears of joys rolling down your cheeks.

There’s nary a dull moment when Diljit Dosanjh is on screen. The pace of the film is steady with enough high points in both the first and second half; I feel tighter editing, especially in the second half, could have made for a crisper watch. However, you can forgive this as the laughter it brings along is truly worth it. The cast gets full marks for honest performances. Kareena yet again proves why she’s the best in the business. With a well etched out character, Kareena is especially impressive in the emotional portions. Her Deepti is real and when it comes to her dramatic reactions, no one comes close to how she does it. Good Newwz again reminds us how good Akshay can be with comedy. In fact, you can call this one of his best comedic performances in the recent times, far from the Housefull brand of cinema. He plays a man-child but is okay taking sarcastic taunts from his wife on a daily basis. And those grey flecks in the hair are really working for him.

Kareena yet again proves why she’s the best in the business. As for the other Batras, there’s nary a dull moment when Diljit is on screen. For someone who talks so less in real life, it’s quite an irony that his character has the maximum lines with boisterousness to boot. Kiara also picks up the nuances of her Punjabi character really well but never goes overboard as the flashy Punjabi she plays in the film. The film keeps it real when it comes to showing urban relationships -- daily lives of married couples, their fights, worries, wanting to have kids and careers etc. Monika is addressed as Moni and Deepti’s husband only calls her Deepu, you know that they’re trying to be as real as possible. On the flipside, Good Newwz thrives on clichés – whether it is Diljit-Kiara who are loud and flashy as they are from Chandigarh or Delhiites flaunting their brands. Also, in today’s day and age, dialogues such as ‘being pregnant is a blessing for any woman’ or ‘apna khoon/baccha apna hota hai’ feel regressive and out of date. Also read: Aishwarya Rai celebrates Christmas with Aaradhya, Alia Bhatt and Deepika Padukone party with family. See inside pics Music and dance sequences are fun and captivating though two of them in the second half somewhat deviate from the storytelling. Of course, Chandigarh Mein with a special appearance from Karan Johar, Badshah and Hardy Sandhu was magical and saved for the end credits. All in all, Good Newwz has the right mix of ingredients and makes for a timely entertainer in this season of cheer. Not preachy or over the top, this light-hearted comic caper is the perfect way to end the year with. It is good news indeed for the audience. Follow @htshowbiz for more Read the full article

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sedimentarydearwatson · 8 years ago

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The conclusion of Neus’ story! In which I’m starting to think it’s impossible to put a character through an Obsidian game and have them come out happier for it.

Okay, straight up: why is it that every time I decide to create a religious character for the sake of exploring what it’s like to live in a fantasy world with tangible magical and divine influences, the story smugly pulls a “the gods aren’t real” twist on me. I’m not trying to relive my own passage to atheism, damn you all!

I did like that this twist was more nuanced than some of the others - that it wasn’t just overly skilled magicians on a power trip pulling strings from behind their Great Wizard of Oz curtain, yet again. The gods of Eora were designed to be what their creators believed gods should be, and their powers are present and undeniable. The issue is therefore not whether there are beings capable of bestowing blessings and curses and miracles, but what it truly means to be divine; that part of the faith granted to gods is the faith there is some great, grand purpose to the trials of life and the demands they make of their followers, which is immediately undermined by the truth of them being entities constructed by kith. The whole question of “what does it mean to live in a world without assurance?” struck me deep. I might not have been looking to re-walk my personal journey, but at least they correctly identified one of the hardest things about it.

It flopped a little in the sense that...there was remarkably little fallout? The gods aren’t real and nobody fucking cares, I guess? Hiravias is still all about Wael and somehow this actually made Eder feel better about what happened with Eothas. I’m sure the sequel will explore things further, though, and there’s arguably an implication that your Watcher’s “long journey” they commence on at the end involves them wandering around to spread the word that the gods are technically real but maybe don’t blindly trust they know best just by token of being gods because, well, they’re more our children than the other way around.

The good news is that, having already been horribly burned by DA:I, I deliberately crafted Neus’ faith with a measure of...robustness, so to speak. Eothas went dark well before she fell in with the priesthood, after all, so the bulk of her faith has always been in the message she believes he represents and not reliant on direct communion with the big sun kahuna himself. It’s a shock to the system and she doesn’t take it with so easy a shrug and a grin as Hiravias, but it doesn’t crunch her beliefs into dust then and there. Which is good. Because the boss-fight against Thaos would have been really hard if the healer was shit outta magic thanks to an ill-timed crisis of faith. (She probably wasn’t at the top of her game, though.)

Act III was still a hellishly hard slog for Neus, mostly because of her soul ancestor crawling steadily out from the dark nethers of the hindbrain to become so present that by endgame they were just about duel-wielding the body. And Neus’ soul ancestor...was not a good person. Kohva, as I’m becoming inclined to call her (because if you’re going to steal one word for snow, might as well stick with the theme), basically ended up shaping herself as a deceitful coward: was in no small part drawn to Thaos’ cause through the promise of forgiveness of all past and future wrongs and the comforting protection of Divine Approval, and walked a very thin line between respect and fear of Thaos himself. She lied when he asked whether she knew the Creitum heretic, mostly out of fear he’d judge her for the association but also as a feeble, reflexive shying away from where that association might lead; tragically this probably makes this the bravest thing she’s ever done. When Thaos confronted her again on the subject, however, she crumbled, and ended up giving her baby sister over to the Inquisition’s less than tender mercies - but not before realising Iovara’s “heresies” may have actually been truths.

No gods, no redemption. A mentor who had lied to her, and who made no bones about the fact he’d just as quickly tie her to the pyre if she strayed from his path. I don’t think she lived all that much longer after Iovara’s passing, utterly despairing of a way forward and terrified of torture, and she died knowing there’d been no reason for any of what she’d done.

So! Being the sort-of-reincarnation of Kohva ix Ensios is not the most delightful of past-times. During the earlier months of the awakening Neus only had to put up with a fearful, cringing presence that ebbed and waned depending on the stimulus, but as the memories kept unravelling a real person began to take shape and it was no one Neus wanted to know. Kohva didn’t tend to yank control of the body away for long speeches, at least, but she was a flighty impulse at the best of times, and a frustratingly unreliable backseat driver at worst. Kohva didn’t remember exactly what she’d done - and she didn’t particularly want to. It was like dragging a squalling anchor around inside her head.

The powerful urge to reach back through time and throttle her own soul did not prevent Neus from making progress in Twin Elms, however - namely, running errands for the gods in order to gain enough favour to breach spooky hell island and pin Thaos down to throttle him instead.

Neus was sympathetic to Pallegina’s raging at Hylea, but didn’t really have similar issues when speaking with Berath. Partly due to being quite satisfied with the mother and father she was born to, and partly due to Berath’s general nature - they’re not exactly known to be the chatty sort - she’d never looked on the god of cycles as any kind of a parental figure. She had plenty of mixed feelings about being a death godlike, yes, but not that many quibbles about Berath’s part in it. As it was, she actually ended up striking her bargain with her benefactor, as returning the stolen souls of the Hollowborn to the reincarnation cycle seemed the safest, stablest way of handling the crisis.

(She did find Wael’s offer to just loose the souls to find their own paths tempting, down in Court...but a promise is a promise, and Neus traded too heavily on her honesty to renege at the last moment on a cranky whim. Going by the ending slides, it’s a damn good thing she stuck with it. These guys are rather spiteful when jilted, yow.)

The reunion with Iovara’s soul in the Court was about as emotional as you’d expect. Just as with Maerwald, Neus’ mind was coming apart under the strain of Kohva’s awakening and hallucinated memories, and in many ways it was neither individual who lead the conversation but a confused blending of both: Kohva’s anguish and Neus’ forthright honesty finally leading to closure between the sister souls.

The blending carried through to the final confrontation with Thaos, both personas reaching rare agreement in wanting him to maybe just fuck right off already - and once defeated, Neus held his soul in her palm for a long moment, trying to decide what to do with him. She knew, rather well, how being forced to live with your mistakes was a keen punishment...but there was too much spite in that action for it to be comfortable, and as doggedly and relentlessly as he had pursued his goals she just wasn’t sure it was safe to loose him back into the cycle. She tore the soul apart: quickly and mercifully, as he had never taught Kohva how.

And then she gave Skaen and Woedica an emphatic middle finger, whipped the souls back into the reincarnation vortex, and promptly keeled over for an extremely overdue nap.

And lo, all was well in Dyrwood! Kohva didn’t disappear entirely, but she quietened down so as to be little more than the occasional flicker like a distant echo of emotion, easily disregarded if desired. Most of the companions did alright for themselves, though Pallegina got banished for trying to do the right thing boo, and Durance apparently burned himself alive because I neglected to do his sidequest, RIP that guy. Sagani would become a respected elder, Kana went a-sailing, Eder would hook up with the Eothasian underground, and Hiravias happily romped around as the Autumn Druid. Aloth began dismantling the Leaden Key. Grieving Mother went back to midwifery.

And Neus sat down on a rock to ponder on what to do with all she’d learned. The entities they called gods were real and powerful and capable of inspiring people to great things: she had no issue with that. They needed to be understood for what they were, though. It went against all she believed it to let the world keep turning on a lie.

But hey, she mused, watching her spider spin a web between her hands. Plenty of time to get to it. Surely the world had had enough crises for one cycle.

[cue Deadfire]

#siltstone plays poe #follow your neus

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torixus · 6 years ago

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Dele Momodu On president Buhari Suspension Of Onnoghen

Fellow Nigerians, the way events happen at the speed of light, in our dear beloved country Nigeria, is unbelievable. I flew out of Lagos yesterday on a few hours flight to Sierra Leone but within that twinkle of an eye, a monumental development had occurred back home. Thanks to social media, cyberspace was awash and agog with the story of President Muhammadu Buhari literally firing the Chief Justice of the Federation, Honourable Justice, Walter Nkanu Samuel Onnoghen GCON, with automatic alacrity, even though the President claimed that his action was merely a suspension. I’m not a lawyer but I’m knowledgeable enough about the Constitutional supremacy, rule of law, fair hearing and judicial process. For now, I will not go into the rights and wrongs of the allegations against the CJN, Honourable Justice Onnoghen because the matter is subjudice as it is still being dealt with by the courts. The President’s actions yesterday would seem to belie this crucial fact. The case against CJN Onnoghen may later turn out to be unassailable, but until then he should be given the benefit of the doubt and allowed to enjoy his right to be presumed innocent until declared guilty by a court of law. It is for him to choose the path of honour and resign, but it is also entirely his discretion, knowing the strength of his case and the conviction about his innocence, to insist on remaining in position until the outcome of the case against him is known. Without jumping to any conclusions yet, I took time to read President Buhari’s speech dealing with the swearing in of the newly appointed Acting Chief Justice of the Federation, Honourable Justice Ibrahim Tanko Mohammed. I was alarmed by what I read. The rhetoric seemed to me to be even worse than it has been in the past. The dictatorial and strident tone and toga of the President in his first speech as Military Head of State was all too palpable for me. I am certain that this speech will go down in the annals of Nigerian history as one of the epochal speeches that shaped Nigeria. Whether for good or ill, only time will tell. Let me therefore literally and figuratively take the pain to quote him verbatim. Fellow Nigerians, A short while ago, I was served with an Order of the Code of Conduct Tribunal issued on Wednesday 23rd January 2019, directing the suspension of the Chief Justice of Nigeria, Honourable Justice Walter Nkanu Samuel Onnoghen, from office pending final determination of the cases against him at the Code of Conduct Tribunal and several other fora relating to his alleged breach of the Code of Conduct for Public Officers. 2. The nation has been gripped by the tragic realities of no less a personality than the Chief Justice of Nigeria himself becoming the accused person in a corruption trial since details of the petition against him by a Civil Society Organization first became public about a fortnight ago. 3. Although the allegations in the petition are grievous enough in themselves, the security agencies have since then traced other suspicious transactions running into millions of dollars to the CJN’s personal accounts, all undeclared or improperly declared as required by law. 4. Perhaps more worrisome is the Chief Justice of Nigeria’s own written admission to the charges that he indeed failed to follow the spirit and letter of the law in declaring his assets, citing ’’mistake’’ and ’’forgetfulness’’ which are totally unknown to our laws as defences in the circumstances of his case. 5. One expected that with his moral authority so wounded, by these serious charges of corruption, more so by his own written admission, Mr. Justice Walter Onnoghen would have acted swiftly to spare our Judicial Arm further disrepute by removing himself from superintending over it while his trial lasted. 6. Unfortunately, he has not done so. Instead, the nation has been treated to the sordid spectacle of a judicial game of wits in which the Chief Justice of Nigeria and his legal team have made nonsense of the efforts of the Code of Conduct Tribunal to hear the allegation on merit and conclude the trial as quickly as possible considering the nature of the times in which we live. 7. Whether deliberately or inadvertently, we have all seen the full weight of the Chief Justice of Nigeria descend on the tender head of one of the organs of justice under his control. There is simply no way the officers of that court, from the Chairman to the bailiffs, can pretend to be unaffected by the influence of the leader of the Judiciary. 8. Not only the trial court, but others have been put on the spot. Practically every other day since his trial commenced, the nation has witnessed various courts granting orders and counter-orders in favour of the Chief Justice of Nigeria, all of them characterised by an unholy alacrity between the time of filing, hearing and delivery of judgment in same. 9. The real effect has been a stalling of the trial of Justice Onnoghen, helped along by lawyers who insist that these orders, whether right or wrong are technically valid, and must be obeyed till an appellate Court says otherwise. No doubt, that it is the proper interpretation, but is it the right disposition for our nation? 10. Nigeria is a constitutional democracy and no one must be, or be seen to be, above the law. Unfortunately, the drama around the trial of the Chief Justice of Nigeria has challenged that pillar of justice in the perception of the ordinary man on the street. For it is certain that no ordinary Nigerian can get the swift and special treatment Justice Onnoghen has enjoyed from his subordinates and privies in our Judicature. 11. In the midst of all these distracting events, the essential question of whether the accused CJN actually has a case to answer has been lost in the squabble over the form and nature of his trial. This should not be so. 12. If Justice cannot be done and clearly seen to be done, society itself is at risk of the most unimaginable chaos. As a Government, we cannot stand by wailing and wringing our hands helplessly but give our full backing and support to those brave elements within the Judiciary who act forthrightly, irrespective of who is involved. 13. As you are all aware, the fight against corruption is one of the tripod of policies promised to Nigerians by this administration. Needless to say that it is an existential Policy which must be given adequate attention and commitment by all the three arms of government. The efforts of the Executive will amount to nothing without the cooperation of the Legislature and especially the Judiciary. 14. It is no secret that this government is dissatisfied with the alarming rate in which the Supreme Court of Nigeria under the oversight of Justice Walter Onnoghen has serially set free, persons accused of the most dire acts of corruption, often on mere technicalities, and after quite a number of them have been convicted by the trial and appellate courts. 15. Since there is nothing the Executive Arm can do after the apex court of the land has spoken on any matter, several of these individuals walk free among us today, enjoying what are clearly the proceeds of the corruption which for so long has defeated the efforts of this nation to develop and prosper. 16. It is against this background that I have received the Order of the Code of Conduct Tribunal directing me to suspend the Chief Justice pending final determination of the cases against him. It also explains why I am not only complying immediately, but with some degree of relief for the battered sensibilities of ordinary Nigerians whose patience must have become severely over-taxed by these anomalies. 17. In line with this administration’s avowed respect for the Rule of Law, I have wholeheartedly obeyed the Order of the Code of Conduct Tribunal dated 23rd January 2019. 18. Accordingly, I hereby suspend the Honourable Mr. Justice Walter Nkanu Samuel Onnoghen, GCON as the Chief Justice of Nigeria pending final determination of the case against him at the Code of Conduct Tribunal. 19. In further compliance with the same Order of the Code of Conduct Tribunal, I hereby invite Honourable Justice Ibrahim Tanko Mohammed JSC, being the next most Senior Justice in the Supreme Court, to come forward to take the Judicial Oath as Chief Justice of Nigeria in an Acting Capacity. 20. Fellow Nigerians, we can only stand a chance to win the fight against Corruption, and position our dear nation for accelerated development when we stand together to contend against it. Thank you and may God bless our country. It is worth reiterating that this aforementioned speech read to me like a coup day speech, with all the preaching and pontificating, especially as it was littered with huge dollops of self-righteousness and moral indignation. The President sermonised in a holier than thou manner with the trenchant rectitude that has now become the hallmark of this administration particularly in the twilight days of this first term. President Muhammadu Buhari turned himself into a real four plus four. He became the Investigator, Prosecutor, Judge and Executioner in one fell swoop. From that moment, Nigeria immediately transfigured, and migrated, to full blown dictatorship. The President, with one stroke of the pen, instantly abolished the principle of separation of powers as enshrined and entrenched in our Constitution. He more or less abolished any notion of the independence of the judiciary and checkmated the legislature with which he shares the joint responsibility for the suspension or removal of the Chief Justice of Nigeria. Indeed, the President’s action is an abrogation of the supremacy of the Constitution, a document which he has given short shrift and practically turned to toilet paper. To all intents and purposes, that is how worthless our Constitution is right now! One thing is sure, the President is no longer in the mood for the niceties or nuances of Democratic tenets and concepts, but is firmly in the autocratic power mode that militocracy so generously offers. I weep for Nigeria and I cry for the President and his gang of powermongers who have refused to read the history of Nigeria, and, if they did, have refused to learn anything from it. I heard and read of many Buharideens shouting, jumping and jubilating that the President has done the right thing by summarily sacking the CJN. I don’t blame them, but I wish to let them know that the ozone layer they have entered is too dangerous for anyone to contemplate. Anytime it seemed Nigeria has been conquered, the conqueror is usually defeated by the resilience of our long-suffering people. The tragedy is, I see many lawyers in this government who are all keeping mute in the face of tyranny, just for them to remain in power, by fire by force. As I wrote to our dear President not too long ago, man shall not live by power alone. God has been very kind to President Muhammadu Buhari. He became Head of State about 35 odd years ago and was sacked in 1985. Anyone would have thought it was over and finished for him. In less than a couple of years, many Nigerians who hailed his emergence as Head of State were jubilating on the streets when his military government was toppled in a palace coup by those close to him. But God, in His infinite mercy and wisdom, brought him from the shadows of death and restored him back to even greater power and glory in a democratic setting, after making several amazing shots at the Presidency. Holy Moses! No one would have thought Baba would blow his second chance and shatter it into smithreens in this manner. Since 2015, it’s been obvious that President Buhari is only different from Major General Buhari in terms of change of nomenclature and uniform. He must feel a sense of nostalgia for those days when he didn’t have to share powers with the legislature and Judiciary, and now craves a return to that time he was alpha and omega. But truth is whatever victory he hopes to record, by playing for broke yesterday, can only be pyrrhic. Nothing more. When tomorrow comes, like it would come, sooner rather than later, he would look back with regrets and ask, why did I do that which may have been needed, but totally unnecessary. I have no doubt in my mind that whatever happens, it shall be well with Nigeria and this too shall pass away. Dear compatriots, stay strong and resolute. The best is yet to come. God bless our great country. via Blogger http://bit.ly/2sNr8ac

#Politics

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romancatholicreflections · 7 years ago

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6th February >> ‘The limits of ritual.’ ~ Daily Reflection on Today’s Gospel Reading for Roman Catholics on Tuesday of Week Five in Ordinary Time.

The Bible teaches that whatever God made is indeed very good. From this angle we can examine today’s texts, the better to understand the words of both Solomon and Jesus. In his new-built temple Solomon ponders, “Can it be that God indeed dwells among us on earth? If the heavens and the highest heavens cannot contain you, how much less this temple which I have built?” And Jesus excoriates the lawyers for “making a fine art of setting aside God’s commandment [i.e. that the world, as blessed by God, is very good] just for the sake of keeping your traditions.”

Solomon’s prayer reminds us that God’s presence fills the universe, and so the king asks how a mere building can contain God. And Jesus argues that the produce of the world, its fruits and vegetables, are all clean because they have been created and blessed by God. Still, Solomon did build the temple; and Jesus did sanction fasting and abstinence from food. The Bible holds together these diverse statements about eating and fasting, about the entire world as God’s dwelling and about building a temple or church for prayer. This diversity is not meant to cancel out or neutralize but rather to balance, nuance and enrich.

We build a church for the community for the same reason that we build a home for a family. We need the home in order to learn how to love and feel secure. Only then are we capable of extending our love to the larger human family. Likewise, we benefit from a church building where we learn to be family or covenanted people, bonded to one another and to God. Through the church, we have a place for prayer and instruction and a faith-community with whom to interact. Without the church we would have been deprived of the Scriptures, of the sacraments and the memory of saints.

To wash ourselves or our food before eating is good, if it induces cleanliness and respect. Yet if it just leads to arguments and a spirit of contempt (as seems to have happened), it negates the plan of God to form one human family made in his own likeness. The Bible is continually cutting down the barriers which we raise. If the word of God sanctions walls for temple and home, it is with the intention of training us to live in the world outside those walls. When we are thoroughly at home in the outside world, then we are ready for heaven, “the highest heavens,” where all God’s children are at home. Therefore, Jesus could not tolerate separations that divide and split apart. People who favour such divisiveness are the hypocrites condemned by the Scripture: This people pays me lip service but their heart is far from me.

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torixus · 6 years ago

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Dele Momodu On president Buhari Suspension Of Onnoghen

#quotes life relationships feelings love quotes relatable quotes heartbreak heartbroken spil

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romancatholicreflections · 8 years ago

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20th June >> Daily Reflection on Today's First Reading (2 Corinthians 8:1-9) for Roman Catholics on Tuesday of the Eleventh Week of Ordinary Time

Commentary on 2 Corinthians 8:1-9 Paul now moves on to a very different topic, namely, the question of collecting funds to help poorer communities, especially that of Jerusalem. We are told in the Acts that the church at Antioch in Syria sent Paul and Barnabas to Jerusalem with material relief (Acts 11:27-30). Later, Paul organised a relief project for Jerusalem among the churches he had evangelised and founded. Chapters 8 and 9 of 2 Corinthians contain what seem to be two letters about this. In them, Paul not only urges the churches to give help but also lays out the deeper meaning of this exercise. It is both an act of charity and an expression of unity between the churches. The first 24 verses of chapter 8, of which we only read 9 today, form a letter of recommendation for Titus and two companions, who are not named. The letter is written from Macedonia. (Thessalonica and Philippi, churches to which Paul addressed letters, were in Macedonia, a province lying north of Greece.) The letter begins, as we see in today’s reading, with some ideas on sharing and equality in the Christian community. Paul’s ideas on relieving people in need had been planted when Paul was with the community in Philippi but now he is expanding them to include help from several churches together to the mother church at Jerusalem. In writing to the Corinthians, he presents them with the example of the Macedonians as a model of what ought to be happening in Corinth. In encouraging the Corinthians to be generous he puts before them the extreme generosity of the churches in Macedonia. “We want you to know of the grace of God that has been given to the churches of Macedonia…” The central theme of his message is expressed by the Greek noun charis (), which is usually translated as ‘grace’ but also by terms like ‘favour’, ‘gracious act’, ‘gracious favour’ etc. ‘Grace’ can be described as ‘the experience of being loved by God’ or ‘God’s love tangibly experienced’. It may come as a direct gift from God or through another person or through some blessing which comes into my life. A closely related term is eu–charis–tia (‘), normally translated as ‘thanksgiving’, that is, thanksgiving for the ‘graces’ received from God in so many ways but especially in the saving work of Jesus. “…for in a severe test of affliction, the abundance of their [i.e. the Macedonians] joy and their profound poverty overflowed in a wealth of generosity on their part.” Three key words appear in this sentence: Test (dokime, ) suggests being tried and found genuine. Abundance: a word containing the idea of overflowing and excelling. Generosity: the word haplotes (‘) has nuances which include both simplicity and sincerity. Here it designates singleness of purpose that manifests itself in generous giving. The Macedonians have asked Paul insistently that they wanted to offer what they could spare and even more than they could afford in order to express their solidarity with their Christian brothers and sisters who were worse off than themselves. Paul emphasises the spontaneity of the Macedonians and the nature of their action. In this they were showing a true Christian spirit, where the community’s resources are shared with those in need. (The Corinthians do not seem to be quite so spontaneous and seem to need some pushing.) The idea that there should be rich churches and poor churches was unacceptable and contrary to the spirit of the Gospel. “They [the Macedonians] gave themselves first to the Lord and to us through the will of God.” On the deepest level their attitude is one of self-giving and solidarity with their brothers and sisters. Through his colleague, Titus, who is in Corinth, Paul hopes that the Christians there will match the generosity of the Macedonians and even more. “We urged Titus that, as he had already begun, he should complete for you this gracious act also.” Apparently Paul had sent Titus to help with organising the collection. The Corinthians are rich in many things, Paul tells them, perhaps with a taint of flattery, but he wants to emphasise that their wealth will not be complete until they are also rich in giving. “You have always the most of everything – of faith, of eloquence, of understanding, of keenness for any cause, and the biggest share of our affection – so we expect you to put the most into this work of mercy too.” He is not ordering them to give but, by giving the example of the Macedonians, is offering them a challenge and a test of the genuineness of their faith and love. In the concluding verse of today’s reading Paul offers the Corinthians the example of Jesus in a beautiful turn of phrase which we could do well to pray over today: “Remember how generous the Lord Jesus was: he was rich but he became poor for your sake, to make you rich out of his poverty.” There are scholars who think this is a reference to Jesus’ pre-existence with God (his ‘wealth’) and to his incarnation and death (his ‘poverty’) and they point to the similarity between this verse and the passage in the Letter to the Philippians: “Though he was in the form of God… he emptied himself…” (Phil 2:6-8). Others interpret the wealth and poverty as succeeding phases of Jesus’ life on earth: his sense of intimacy with God and then the desolation and the feeling of abandonment by God in his death (“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”, Mk 15:34). In either case, we think of the words of Isaiah: “By his wounds we are healed.” In our own day we again think of someone like Mother Teresa who enriched many of us through her poverty and her freedom from any personal possessions.

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