#looked more sleepy than jubilant on stage

[thisdaynews]

Breaking News: What you don't know about Donald Trump's Youngest Son Barron Trump

New Post has been published on https://www.thisdaynews.net/2018/05/24/breaking-news-what-you-dont-know-about-donald-trumps-youngest-son-barron-trump/

Breaking News: What you don't know about Donald Trump's Youngest Son Barron Trump

Most of the Trump children have become well-known to the public over the years, but Barron remains a family outlier. The 11-year old son of the President first captivated the eyes of the world late on Election Night when he stood behind his father on the stage while victory was accepted. Barron, of course, looked more sleepy than jubilant on stage, which inadvertently won over the cold hearts of an America that was mostly happy the election cycle was finally over. Who is this young Simba-like figure? It’s time we get familiar with America’s new boy-prince, Barron Trump.

He’s the only child of Donald and Melania

One thing about the incoming First Family to take note of is that it has a little bit more sprawl than the last one, owing to Donald Trump’s multiple children by three wives. Barron Trump, the youngest of the clan, is but one branch of a family tree that includes Ivanka, Eric, and Donald Jr., born to Donald’s first wife, Ivana Trump; and daughter Tiffany, born to Donald’s second wife, Marla Maples.

As for Barron, he’s the only child of Donald and Melania Knauss Trump, and was born on March 20, 2006. Until recently, he lived with his mom in their Trump Tower penthouse on Fifth Avenue in New York City, while dad moved into the White House after assuming his new role as POTUS. Donald and Melania were married about a year prior to Barron’s birth, in January 2005.

His delayed move to the White House was because of school

As of this writing, Barron and his mother have officially joined President Trump in residence at the White House. But the reason they stayed behind wasn’t because of the lack of gold plating in the West Wing. It was so Barron could finish out his year at the prestigious and very-expensive Columbia Grammar and Preparatory School, where he attended through the end of the school year.

Reassuring him that he’d be able to finish out his year at the school that Us Weekly reports has a price tag of around $45,000 per year, Barron’s mom told him, “Take it day by day, enjoy your life, live your meaningful life as I like to do.” We’re not sure the then-10-year-old Barron was able to process such a life-changing move through the lens of that fortune cookie wisdom, but he did get to finish the year with his friends and classmates. Although things at the school definitely changed after November 8th, 2016…

Parents at Barron’s school had a post-Election freakout

Anyone who has so much tried to walk near Trump Tower will tell you that Donald Trump’s presidential victory has created major headaches for the city of New York. Apparently, though, few people were more worried than the parents at Columbia Grammar and Preparatory School. “Some parents are freaking out and worked up about security and what the school is going to do,” a board member told Vanity Fair. Some are worried about safety concerns; others are reportedly annoyed about various inconveniences—like, you know, the time the school’s sole elevator was blocked off for Melania for an open house event in 2016.

The school even had a real life scare scenario in March of 2017 when a lockdown procedure was put into place after a suspicious vehicle was spotted outside the building. According to The New York Daily News, “a military-style bag in a beat-up blue and silver pick-up truck with an Indiana license plate” was reported to police as a “suspicious package,” triggering a bomb squad response and the school’s reactionary security procedure. It’s a frightening scenario for any school, but one that carries additional weight when the President’s son happens to be enrolled there.

He’s the first boy to live in the White House in decades

Now that Barron’s actually made it to Washington, he has officially become the first boy to grace the halls of the White House in almost 60 years. Yep, the last time America had a “First Boy” was all the way back in 1961, when John F. Kennedy’s son, JFK Jr., moved into the White House when he was just a baby, according to CNN.

And Barron made his entrance to the presidential residence in true Trump fashion, exiting Marine One and strolling across the White House lawn to his new digs while wearing a shirt emblazoned with the words ‘The Expert.’ And here we thought Uncle Jared was the boy wonder of the family.

He’s not into wearing sweatpants

As one might expect from someone born into a billion-dollar business family, little Barron has been dressing for success pretty much his entire life. He even wore a suit to the launch of his half-sister Ivanka’s book when he was only three-and-a-half-years-old, according to People magazine.

“He’s not a sweatpants child,” Melania said while discussing her son with ABC News in 2013. “He doesn’t mind putting on [a suit]-but not every day- and he likes to dress up in a tie sometimes like Daddy.” But that’s not to say that Barron doesn’t like a little comfort. In fact, he sometimes pairs his prep school uniform with customized New Balance sneakers that reportedly cost $149, according to Footwear News. Yep, you read that right. The Trumps pay $149 for Barron’s sneakers and something called Footwear News actually exists in reality.

He used to moisturize his skin with caviar

If you needed further proof that Barron isn’t your typical 10 year old, try this one on for size: in 2013, his mother admitted to ABC News that, at the time, she applied her own line of caviar-infused moisturizer to his skin after he took his his nightly bath. “It smells very, very fresh,” Melania said of her Caviar Complex C6 skin care line. “I put it on him from head to toe. He likes it.”

Unfortunately for the two of them, this tradition may have been short-lived; according to Racked, Melania’s skin care line fell apart shortly after its high-profile launch.

He takes after his father

Given that he loves to wear suits and moisturize his skin with caviar, it should surprise exactly no one that Melania often refers to her only son as “little Donald” and “mini-Donald.” “He is a very strong-minded, very special, smart boy,” Melania told Parenting. “He is independent and opinionated and knows exactly what he wants. Sometimes I call him little Donald. He is a mixture of us in looks, but his personality is why I call him little Donald.”

“When he was 5 years old, he wanted to be like daddy: a businessman and golfer,” she added later in the interview. “He loves to build something and tear it down and build something else. He is very detailed at drawing. We travel often and he remembers everything he sees. Sometimes later the same day or the next he would build something like he saw or imagine something himself.”

In a 2013 interview with ABC News, Melania again referred to Barron as “mini-Donald,” which if we’re being honest, has to sting a little for Barron’s older half-brother, the actual Donald Jr.

He may or may not have a nanny

In a September 2015 interview with People magazine, Donald and Melania insisted they did not use a nanny to help raise Barron. “I like to be hands-on,” Melania told the magazine. “I think it’s very important. Barron is 9 years old. He needs somebody as a parent there, so I am with him all the time. As you know my husband is traveling all the time.”

Days after the interview was published, Donald, in true form, told the New York Post that there was, in fact, a “young woman” who “works with Barron.” Still, to this day, reports describe Melania as being “really devoted” to her son; a source told the Post in November 2016 that Melania is often seen picking up Barron from school. That same source also claimed that Melania had not relied on nannies to help raise her kid. So, who knows what the heck is going on?

Donald didn’t change his diapers

In that same interview with Parenting, Melania said of her husband, “He didn’t change diapers and I am completely fine with that. It is not important to me. It’s all about what works for you. It’s very important to know the person you’re with. And we know our roles. I didn’t want him to change the diapers or put Barron to bed. I love every minute of it.”

But that’s not to say that Donald wasn’t a doting dad in his own way. Melania also said that he and Barron love to play golf, eat dinner together and “enjoy family time” at Mar-a-Lago, the family’s Florida getaway. Golf and dinner, huh? Sounds a bit more like the closing of a business deal than a loving father-son day.

He’s fluent in two languages

Although he reportedly takes after his father, Barron has also inherited his mother’s roots as well. According to a 2016 interview with GQ magazine, Melania revealed that Barron “speaks Slovenian fluently.” In fact, he speaks the language with his grandparents, who live near Trump Tower, according to the interview.

Melania also once bragged to People in 2009 that at just three-years-old, Barron was also speaking French in addition to Slovenian and English. But two years later, during an appearance on The Joy Behar Show, Melania said, “Barron speaks two languages completely perfect. He goes from one thing to another, Slovenian/English.” What happened to French? Was he just not fluent enough to mention it yet? Does Barron Trump own a beret? These are questions of national importance that need an answer.

He lives like a king

In her interview with Parenting, Melania also dropped the bombshell news that Barron’s digs at Trump Tower are so sweet, he actually has an entire floor to himself, complete with his own personal flourishes that include the incorporation of “planes and helicopters” into the decor of the rest of the house. Not only that, but it was no big deal if he wanted to draw all over the walls, because “we can paint it over,” she said. With that kind of set-up, it’s no wonder that they weren’t in a rush to move him into the White House.

And though he’s not getting his own wing of the executive residence, his lifestyle isn’t exactly getting downgraded. According to Inquisitr, the White House has a staff of 100 people who “will know what every member of the Trump family likes, as far as food, snacks, and personal items. This will be stocked and waiting for the family so they can obtain it at a moment’s notice.” Rumors even swirled that Barron’s getting a Goldendoodle puppy, named Patton, to go along with his new home, so at least if he gets homesick, he’ll have a new buddy around to cheer him up.

He’ll probably stay out of the spotlight

With his official appearances thus far limited to the Inauguration Day festivities and the White House Easter Egg Roll, it remains to be seen how involved with public life Barron will be. But if history is an indicator, young children of past presidents have mostly steered clear of the public eye.

And it seems like Melania intends to uphold that tradition as well. In an October 2016 interview with ABC News, Melania said she is hoping to shield him from the public as best she can. “I teach him, I explain to him so he knows what’s going on,” she said. “And���he’s—he’s taking very well. I keep him balanced and—just have him a childhood as normal as possible. And he’s enjoying his school and his sports. He’s a great athlete. And I just want to have him—out of the spotlight for now.” Even though they’ve since moved to Washington, her stance on wanting her son to have as normal a life as possible probably hasn’t changed.

He will attend St. Andrew’s Episcopal School

Just weeks ahead of Melania and Barron’s move to Washington, the First Lady released a statement regarding the family’s choice for Barron’s matriculation in the fall of 2017. He’s headed to St. Andrew’s Episcopal School in Potomac, MD, which according to The Washington Post will cost approximately $40,000 per year. In addition to the school’s prestigious reputation — it boasts that 100% of its graduates go on to some type of higher education — St. Andrew’s has a range of impressive facilities, including “a 14,000-volume, two-story library with an audiovisual classroom and a periodical reading room; a multipurpose theater/assembly/lunch space that features a stage and light/sound booth; two visual arts studios with ceramics wheels and a kiln; a darkroom; two full-size basketball courts; a fitness room; a dance studio; and two full turf fields for softball, baseball, lacrosse and soccer.” Nice.

Barron will be the first child of a sitting president to attend St. Andrew’s, though the school does claim other famous alumni, like eBay founder Pierre Omidyar. Maybe if Barron plays his cards right, he might end up rich like that guy some day.

[hataraku-headcanons-blog]

What Happens When We Fall Asleep?

A quick repost since I forgot about the read under cut function. Hopefully this makes it nicer!

Also, an FYI about the blood-brain barrier: blood travels along certain vessels, and regulation of blood along these pathways is highly controlled. So in this story, RBC can see the neurons and they can see her, but she cannot leave the path or go up to them really. :)

Without further ado, here’s the story:

----------

The night shift was starting and the typically quick pace in the internal carotid artery was beginning to slow. While many red blood cells yawned, trudging along the dirt path at as slow a speed as the blood pressure would allow, one red-headed cell seemed to almost light up the darkened vessel with her enthusiasm.

AE-3803 hummed to herself as she pushed her box of oxygen, marveling at the scenery at night time.

“It’s so peaceful,” she murmured, taking in the slightly cooler night air and the way the lights from the windows of the common cells’ houses cast a faint glow along the street.

She followed the straight, wide path up and up and still further up until she reached the entrance to the brain.

She paused, checked her notes and nodded.

“I’m going the right way!” she whispered excitedly, not wanting to be too loud and disturb the serene atmosphere. Taking a deep breath, the red blood cell kept along the path she had written.

3803 stepped into the brain and gasped aloud.

Brain: “A major organ of the body. A control center for coordination of actions and motion, regulation of homeostasis and involuntary bodily functions, and the processing of external information into thoughts, feelings and memories.”

The brain was like nothing she’d ever seen before. A rich forest bloomed before her, tall flowering trees with lights strung along them. The little lights illuminated, one after another, down a row to another tree, then went out. Again and again they flickered and glowed, all up and down the criss-crossing pathways, now an uneven cobblestone.

She was delighted to see the beautiful flowering trees were actually homes- lights flickered from within, and she could see a cell poke his head out of a door, graciously accepting a cup of steaming tea from a yellow-suited man with a floral lapel. AE-3803 could smell the tea as it wafted through the air and her whole body began to feel more relaxed and sleepy.

She shook her head. No time for that- she had a job to do!

3803, from what she had just seen and what her senpai had told her, was pretty sure that the man serving tea was an astrocyte.

Astrocyte: “Maintains homeostatic levels in the brain and central nervous system. Performs a wide variety of tasks such as axon guidance, synaptic support and control of blood flow through the brain. Their role in sleep is not well understood, but it is known that astrocytes produce a hormone called adenosine, which makes us tired. They are called ‘astro’ for their star-like shape.”

The man smiled and bowed his head towards her in greeting, one hand over his heart. 3803 cheerily waved back.

“Hello!” she called out. She waved to the other cell who was just about to go back inside. He blinked and blearily waved back before closing the door.

“Ah, it really is lovely up here!” she sighed, pulling out her notes. “Okay, so there’s a crossroads up ahead… if I take a right, I’ll be in the ophthalmic artery… no wait, is that the cerebral? Maybe I have to take a left? Aaah, I don’t want to get lost! Senpai trusted me with thi-”

She abruptly crashed into something and went flying backwards. The thing grunted and she realized with a jolt that she had collided with an actual person.

“Ahh! I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Eee, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright,” said a familiar voice. “I- oh. Red Blood Cell.”

“White Blood Cell!” 3803 gasped.

The two got to their feet slowly, 3803 feebly trying to conceal her embarrassment, U-1146 honestly just amazed at the fact that his tea hadn’t gone flying out of his hand.

“I’m really sorry!” 3803 said again.

“Don’t be,” he replied. “No harm done. We sure do bump into each other a lot though. I suppose quite literally now.”

“Ahaha, yeah…”

“I’ve never seen you on a night shift before,” 1146 commented. “Where are you headed?”

“Ah, I have a delivery to a cell above the eye!” 3803 exclaimed, some of the enthusiasm returning to her voice. “My senpai thought I should take the night shift since I’ve been able to navigate better in the day, as a kind of challenge. And it’s my first time this far up in the brain too, but I’ve come prepared!”

She held up her notes and he nodded.

“All I have to do,” she pointed to the left, “is take that path straight up to the supraorbital artery! I’ve got it all planned out!”

“Um. Well,” 1146 said quietly, trailing off.

She pointed to the right.

“It’s the other way, isn’t it.”

He nodded.

She just sighed and pushed her trolley along to the right.

In a few moments, the neutrophil had caught up, keeping pace beside her.

“Wait, are we going the same way?” 3803 asked, puzzled.

“Just patrolling,” he replied, sipping his tea. “I thought we could walk together for a bit.”

“Sure!” she agreed, beaming.

They walked in silence for a bit, both taking in the beautiful lights that slowed in their progress as they traveled.

A bright stream of light suddenly went coursing above their heads and out of the brain, lighting the street below almost as though it were day.

AE-3803 shrieked, ducking down and instinctively covering her head.

“What was that?!”

“Just a strong electrical signal sent by the neurons. Probably triggering the hypnagogic jerk. Nothing to be afraid of.”

The red blood cell slowly rose to her feet, and sensing no danger, she continued along the opthalmic artery, the neutrophil following alongside. AE-3803 grabbed her notes.

“Hypnagogic jerk…” she muttered, flipping through the pages.

U-1146 narrowed his one visible eye curiously.

“Ah, it’s when the muscles twitch as sleep starts!” AE-3803 exclaimed. “It’s a normal thing; it happens during stage one sleep!”

“That’s right,” 1146 said, with mild surprise. “Where did you learn that?”

“Oh,” she smiled. “My senpai wanted me to be prepared so she told me what she knows. I took lots of notes, see?”

She flipped through the pages rapidly and U-1146 nodded appreciatively.

“Would you tell me what you know?”

“Eh? Um,” 3803 hesitated, suddenly a little self-conscious. “Don’t you already know these things?”

“I do,” he replied evenly. “But I’m not as familiar with the role of red blood cells at night. I may learn something.”

“Well…” she trailed off, then shook her head, beaming. “Okay! I’ll tell you what I know!”

At that moment, static crackled from his transceiver.

“Ah, one moment, Red Blood Cell.”

“Sure, sure!”

The neutrophil removed the transceiver and spoke into it clearly.

“This is U-1146. No activity to report from the ophthalmic artery. Will continue patrolling through to the supraorbital and continue to report at regular intervals.”

“Cool,” came U-4989′s reply, crackling out from the speaker. “We’ll both end up in the same vein on the way back; guess I’ll see you later!”

“Later,” 1146 replied, then he put away the transceiver. “Sorry, Red Blood Cell. You can start now.”

“Oh it’s no problem!”

1146 took a sip of his tea as she began.

“So,” she said, looking around. “Things seem to have settled down, so I think we’re done with stage 1 sleep and are on to stage 2!”

He nodded.

“This is the time the neurons help make memories! They take the events of the day and decide from there what should be kept and what can be forgotten. Some of them will encode the memories for later.”

She pointed at a neuron, who was feeding a thick cable through a hole in the wall that led inside his house.

“That’s probably what he’s doing right now!”

The two blood cells continued walking, unaware of the bewildered blinking neuron behind them.

“Why was she pointing at me? What am I doing?” he mumbled, sleepy from the chamomile tea. After a moment of confusion, he shrugged and got back to work.

“I believe that neuron was also rearranging the connections between him and his neighbours,” 1146 added.

“He was?”

“Yes. That’s one of the main principles of how neuroplasticity works.”

Neuroplasticity: “The brain’s ability to rearrange and form new neuronal connections in response to learning, experience or injury.”

“So what’s your role in this?” 1146 asked.

“I deliver oxygen and take away carbon dioxide, like usual,” 3803 smiled. “But the blood flow is slower at night, so it’s not as rushed.”

She briefly checked her notes and nodded.

“While I’m up here, I’m supposed to also gather up any loose hormones that didn’t get used today. After I circulate around the heart and lungs, I’ll take what I’ve collected to the liver for the hepatocytes to get rid of.”

A crackling static sound and 1146, briefly apologizing, reported into his transceiver again. A dainty sounding female voice replied and the conversation came to a close.

“You sure are using that a bit more than usual White Blood Cell,” 3803 commented, tilting her head.

“We neutrophils have to at night,” he replied. “There are less of us circulating, but we communicate more to compensate. The other white blood cells; the macrophages and dendritic cells also communicate more, with each other and with us. That was Macrophage just now.”

“I see!”

“Hey,” called a cell from the right. “You, red blood cell!”

“Yes?” she answered, startled.

“Could you take these for me?” he asked, holding up three file folders. “I didn’t use them and they’re just kind of lying around.”

“Oh, of course!” 3803 agreed, taking the folders from him and plopping them on top of her box of oxygen.

“Thank you for your hard work!” the cell said, returning to his house.

“Thank you for yours!” 3803 called out cheerfully after him.

AE-3803 held up the file folders for U-1146 to see.

“These are the hormones I was telling you about. My first collection!”

She looked positively jubilant about the whole thing, even though it was just another job in the life of a red blood cell. U-1146 tipped his hat slightly as the pair continued to meander up the tree-lined arterial pathway.

——————-

“Delta sleep is beginning now,” AE-3803 commented, watching the neurons catch a few zzz’s while their computers’ delta programs ran lazy waves up and down the strings of lights.

“Mm,” 1146 agreed.

A few red blood cells ran by, carrying red and white striated file folders labelled “Growth”.

“They’re taking growth hormone to the muscles in the body, White Blood Cell,” 3803 told him. She sighed wistfully. “I almost wish I’d had that job instead. I’d love to see how the muscle cells repair themselves.”

“Next time?” 1146 suggested.

“I hope so!”

AE-3803 suddenly jolted, her head alert. U-1146 instantly tensed, his fingers itching to grab his knife.

“What happened?”

“I just realized- where are all the T-cells?” she gasped. “There’s usually at least one squad that jogs by, but I haven’t seen any!”

“Ah, they barely circulate in the bloodstream at night,” 1146 told her, releasing some of his tension.

“Where do they go?”

“Actually… no one’s completely sure.”

“Eh?!?” AE-3803 glanced around her with wide eyes, as if a killer T-cell was going to jump out of nowhere all of a sudden.

“They probably go back to the lymph ducts,” 1146 added quickly. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“It’s still kind of scary…” she muttered.

“…it is,” the neutrophil agreed.

“We’re almost there!” 3803 realized, bouncing on her feet excitedly. “The capillary I need should be right up here-”

A rumbling echoed from behind the duo, growing steadily louder.

“Uhh…” the two uttered, hesitantly turning their heads in sync and blanching when they saw what was happening.

Red blood cells raced towards them in a mass of hats, jackets, and trolleys of oxygen.

“W-White Blood Cell?! What’s happening?!”

“It’s-”

AE-3803 screeched as the mass of cells overtook them.

“Ahh! I lost White Blood Cell!” she shrieked, racing just to keep up with the other cells and keep her footing. “White Blood Cell! What’s going on?”

“REM sleep!” a red blood cell on her right shouted.

“REM sleep?”

REM sleep: “Stage of sleep characterized by rapid eye movement, increased pulse and breathing, and muscle paralysis. This is the stage in which dreams take place.”

“Oh, of course!” the red blood cell exclaimed. “The blood flow increases during this stage!”

Running through the supraorbital, packed in with other busy red blood cells, AE-3803 marveled at the way the trees seemed to come to life again, lighting strings along the path, swooping from tree to tree in sparks of light. Slowly, monitors folded down from the branches, acting as projector screens, capturing the light from the neuron’s homes like a feature film.

The dream ran across the projectors like a kaleidoscope of thought, memory and colour as AE-3803 pushed her oxygen along, gazing upwards and all around at the dazzling display.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” a red blood cell shouted as her trolley very nearly collided with his own.

“Aah! Sorry!”

————-

AE-3803 breathed a sigh of relief. REM sleep over, next sleep cycle beginning,  oxygen delivered, carbon dioxide and hormones picked up- she was ready to circulate through the heart and lungs again.

Back in the veins, things were a bit quieter, so she had time to do one extra thing before she headed off.

“U-4989!”

The neutrophil whirled around suddenly, speaking around the dumpling he was carrying in his mouth. His hands were occupied with fastening his knife to a large rock.  

“Oh, hey Red Blood Cell!”

If the sight confused her at all, then AE-3803 said nothing of it.

“Have you seen White Blood Cell- U-1146? We got separated during REM sleep…”

U-4989 let out a short bark of laughter.

“Yeah, I can take you to him.”

The neutrophil weaved through the red blood cells, the girl close behind him.

“There he is!” U-4989 said, gesturing.

“White Blood Cell! …oh.”

On a bench off to the side of the vessel, U-1146 sat, his head having since bobbed back to allow his tired body to relax.

AE-3803 blinked to ensure she was seeing things right. U-1146… had fallen asleep! Then again, she thought, he must’ve needed the rest after all the work he did.

“Out like a neuron’s signal,” 4989 shrugged, winking.

AE-3803 smiled at the sleeping neutrophil, then patted him on the shoulder.

“Good night, White Blood Cell,” she said softly. She returned to her pathway and hurried off, calling out over her shoulder to 4989 briefly.

“Thank you for your hard work!”

———————————————————————-

Disclaimers:

This series, Hataraku Saibou, was not written by me but by Akane Shimizu.

**RBCs do not actually carry hormones; they are transported through the blood plasma… but since nutrients were represented as being carried by the RBCs (they are also in the plasma), then I think it’s fine.

**The length of time of a sleep cycle is much longer than the time it takes for a blood cell to circulate the body; this was changed merely to give the two main characters a chance to talk for a bit and explain what’s happening.

[wildlyglittering]

Drabble

I felt inspired by this dailyau prompt:-

“You were supposed to be a one night stand, but we ended up talking till dawn instead of sex. And wow we really click, so do you maybe want to have breakfast and stay longer?” AU

So I wrote a thing.

“I don’t date.”

That’s what she told him, two hours ago when they were at the bar. The fingers of her right hand gripped the stem of her wine glass while the middle finger of her left traced lightly round the rim. She watched as he watched and smirked as his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Ok,” he replied. “What do you do?”

*** This. She did this.

“God, Peeta. Don’t stop.” There was a responding groan from her neck where his mouth sucked on her pulse point. One hand was under her shirt, sturdy fingers massaging her breast, a firm thumb circling her hardening nipple while the other hand was slowly, painfully slowly, pushing her skirt up to her waist.

Yes, she thought. Friday night drinks had been such a good idea. Except there was one small problem.

Her hips rose to meet his and in return he pushed his against hers. Pushing his hardness down into her pelvis, down into his couch. Down into her full bladder. It was her turn to groan, but not from pleasure. “Wait.”

Peeta instantly pulled back, his hands stilling, his eyes lidded. “Katniss, is everything ok?”

“I need to use your bathroom.”

“Oh. Oh.” His face relaxed and a look of relief passed through his eyes. “Sure, of course.” He moved off her and stood with his hand out to help her up. “It’s just down the hall, door on the left.”

“Thanks.” She tried to maintain some dignity, holding her knees together and pulling her skirt back down as she moved off the couch. She wasn’t too sure why she was worried about dignity. After all they were pretty much down to fuck in his living room only hours after meeting. This. This is what she did.

*** She tried not to pay attention. Really, she wasn’t about to start taking any interest in her one night stands but as she used his downstairs bathroom she couldn’t not notice all the pictures.

They decorated the walls. Peeta, a young and chubby toddler, long blonde waves falling over his shoulders. A teenaged Peeta in a wrestling singlet, a teenaged Peeta at prom, a slightly older Peeta in another wrestling singlet, with friends at parties, with friends at the beach, with yet more friends in a cabin.

The same faces throughout but with more and more new ones added each time. Peeta wearing a mortar board at graduation. Some with him and girls, the same girl in a few of them, long dark hair like Katniss but not like Katniss. A buxom blonde who was most definitely not like Katniss.

Then there were the guys. Must be brothers, she thought. Three ashy blonde guys all with the same build and smile. And that was the other thing. The smile. In every picture Peeta was grinning the same broad, pleased grin. Whether he was a toddler covered in flour or a man with a partner he was clearly happy.

A picture in centre stage particularly caught her eye. Peeta and a little boy, jubilation filled their faces, their cheeks pressed together so tight that it was like they were trying to merge their faces into one. When she looked around Katniss realised that the little boy was in an awful lot of photos. Crap, he has a kid. Not that it mattered. Not that it ever mattered.

*** When she went back to the living room Peeta was nowhere to be found. Her shoes were by the couch where she’d left them and she was wondering if she should just put them on and go when the noise came from the room next door. Wandering across the hall she walked into the kitchen just as Peeta turned around from the sink, drinking from a glass of water.

“Sorry,” he said once he’d finished. “I got thirsty.” He flashed her a smile. That smile.

Katniss shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Do you want some?” He held the glass that he’d just drunk from out to her and she took it from him.

“Thanks.” So what if she was drinking from the same glass he’d just been drinking from. The plan was to exchange more than saliva this evening. As she drank he settled himself down on a barstool opposite. No, no, no, she thought. Don’t get comfy. She wanted him back in his living room, on the couch, on top of her.

Still, when she’d finished gulping down the last of water she found herself talking. “Interesting decoration for your bathroom. Couldn’t afford wallpaper?” “Ah! My infamous wall of fame. You know you’ve made it when you feature.”

“When your face gets to have pride of place opposite the toilet?”

“Exactly,” he winked at her.

Despite herself she smiled at him. “You know you kind of look like a little girl in your kid pics. Like a pretty Goldilocks.”

Peeta groaned and put his face in his hands. “Well at least you think I’m pretty.” He peeked out at her from in between his fingers. “It’s embarrassing to admit but after two boys my mom really wanted a girl so she kept my hair long until she couldn’t get away with it anymore.”

Katniss laughed. “Ouch! Well you look cute.”

“Thank you.”

“I thought you had brothers, you look like them.”

“You noticed that too huh?” Peeta raised an eyebrow her.

She shrugged again. “Just observant I guess.”

“I’m the good looking one though.”

“Of course.”

His eyes twinkled. “It’s the Mellark genes. We’re all blonde haired, blue eyed cherubs. Obnoxious really.”

Mellark. That was his surname. And then, for some, unknown reason she found herself saying it. “Your son looks like you too. Must be those Mellark genes.”

Peeta frowned, confused. “My son?” He paused. “Oh, you mean Teddy?”

She guessed. Not that she would know. Or cared. She didn’t. She swore she didn’t.

There was a chuckle from Peeta. “Yeah, it must be those Mellark genes. I can see why you would think that. Teddy’s my nephew. He’s honestly the funniest kid I know.” Katniss watched as his eyes lit up as he spoke about the little boy, his hands waving around as he told some story. She didn’t pay much attention to the words but just thought how blue his eyes were. They weren’t that blue in the bar. Or where they?

She switched back in to hear the end of the story. “...and that’s why I’m not allowed to give him sugar anymore.” There was a pause and Peeta’s enthusiasm seemed to dip. “They moved to Capitol a few months ago though and I really miss them. It’s not the same.”

There was something about his demeanour. The way his shoulders seemed to slump a little that made Katniss, for what seemed like the millionth time that night, say something she wouldn’t normally say. “I have a niece.”

That seemed to interest him and she realised it was the most personal thing she’d said to him since they met aside from ‘I’m Katniss and I’m here with co-workers.’ “Yeah?”

“My sister’s daughter. She’s possibly my favourite person in the world. Apart from my sister.”

Peeta smiled his megawatt smile at her and though there was a part of her, such a large part of her, that wanted to grab him by his collar and drag him back to the living room there was another part of her that wanted to share with him how much it sucked that Prim and her husband were moving out of the district because of their work.  

She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. *** “No I’m telling you, you need to stop buying that stuff. How can you even justify it?”

Katniss threw her hands in the air. “Oh come on! We can’t all be bread baking extraordinaires! I have a busy life, I can’t be dealing with all that... that baked good nonsense.”

Peeta dramatically winced, leaning back the couch arm, clutching at his heart. “You wound me Everdeen. That ‘baked good nonsense’ you speak of is my life’s work.”

She shook her head at him, smiling. “An hour ago, your life’s work was art and I’m pretty sure an hour before that it was wrestling.”

“Yeah well, I gotta cram a lot of life’s work into this one life. Just promise me you’ll start buying granary.”

“What’s wrong with white?”

“’What’s wrong with white?’ Do not make me go there!”

She laughed, clutching onto the third mug of hot chocolate he had made her. After an hour of conversation Peeta had deemed the barstools in his kitchen too uncomfortable to sit on for any longer so they ended up moving back into the living room. It wasn’t entirely what she pictured them using the room for, not when they had originally crashed into it in a tangle of lips and tongues.

Her skirt was off though, at around two in the morning she started shifting in her work outfit, the pencil skirt and shirt constricting her. When Peeta asked if she wanted to slip into something more comfortable she breathed a sigh of relief. Here she was, early hours of Saturday, holding a hot beverage, wearing an oversized college shirt and completely and utterly un-fucked.

Somehow this felt better.

***

The birds were waking and yet they were still up. Not for much longer though, Katniss tried to stifle a yawn and failed miserably. Somehow Peeta still managed to look fresh and awake.

“Shit,” he muttered. “I didn’t realise what the time was. It’s like six in the morning.”

“Oh god,” she rubbed her eyes. “I’m going to pass out.” Her stomach then uttered a protest mumble. “Or waste away.”

Peeta reached out and took the mug from her and she used the opportunity to stretch her legs out across the couch. “Tell you what...stay just a bit longer and I’ll make you breakfast. I’ll make it a really good breakfast.”

She smiled at him sleepily. “I think I’m too tired, I’ll probably just fall asleep afterwards.” She watched as his hand touched her ankle, stroking his thumb across the bare skin he found there. The soothing sensation was starting to lull her deeper into sleepiness.

“Ok, how about this? Stay longer, I’ll make you that really good breakfast and then you can nap. Here. I have a very comfy bed.”

Katniss looked up at him with half lidded eyes. A gentle smile touched his face.

“What do you say?”

[littlenomo]

Gaga Over (S)Udaipur

I'm really at a loss to know how to tell you how amazing our time celebrating Suman and Gagan's wedding has been. We're both really in awe that we have been able to experience such an incredible event with such incredible people!! Having said all that though, our journey to get there was long, expensive and stressful!! After our 9 hour flight with a very fluey Alex, and first night crashing at Aman's flat Mumbai, we wanted to have a chilled day there. We succeeded for the first half of the day! A lie in and then Alex first taste of real Indian food for lunch - everyone's a winner. But then after we'd picked up our rented Indian wedding outfits from Suman's friend Devanshi's lobby, we realised that 3 of them were missing and we couldn't get through to customer service on the phone! So with less than 2 hours until we needed to be at the airport to fly to Udaipur for the wedding the next afternoon, we rushed to the company's store in Mumbai and tried to hurry along the staff as we paid again to replace our missing outfits, but with much more limited choices. However, (as seemed to be a theme throughout our stay), a sense of urgency is really hard to come by in India, so with the hectic traffic when we left, we arrived with only 5 minutes before check in closed so the machine didn't work, but a lady told us we weren't "very late" so it was fine just to join the queue - phew! Then the next drama. We were told at the check in desk that our flight had been moved to 12:15 (it was now about 18:30) and they'd tried to contact us several times with no success to let us know about the change. Our hearts sank as we realised we may have to fly at 05:00 the next morning, but then a miracle; two no shows on the new 19:15 flight meant we squeezed back in in the nick of time! The drama continued however, with a 2 hour delay in taking off (of course!); which meant that by the time we got to our hotel in Udaipur (45 minutes drive from the airport) and the porters took us to the wrong room and then spent 20 minutes trying to find the right one, we were just too exhausted to go and see Su at her hotel, which I was devastated about. Though when I heard the tales of 02:00 party crashing (the whole bridal party had been living off around 2-4 hours sleep a night on the run up to the wedding - I really don't know how they do it!) I was relieved we'd made the choice to get our beauty sleep. In the morning I began to remember what Indian living is really like, and that for a wedding everything is ten times more manic and unpredictable. By the end of the wedding we knew to add at least two hours to any expected timings and that "it isn't an Indian wedding without some chaos". However, when we arrived at the Radisson Blu I instantly knew all the pain had been worth it. It was quite literally a palace and the view out over the lakes was absolutely breathtaking. Also getting to see Su very briefly before the first event, I was so so glad we came. Day one was pre-wedding partying essentially and the first event is called Mehendi and is traditionally for the women, but everyone was there. It was on the rooftop of the hotel and as you arrived there was a bright pink archway (pink was definitely a theme!) with fluorescent coloured origami hanging from it. I GOT HENNA! It was so amazing to watch, the women work so quickly and intricately; I can't stop looking at the artwork on my hands and I'm trying to make it last as long as possible (even washed my hair with bags on my hands yesterday haha). I got our's and Su's hashtags in henna too, one on each arm. This event started proceedings as they meant to go on, consisting of chatting, eating, drinking, taking pictures, goggling at fabulous dresses - The colours! The glamour! - and being gobsmacked by the unbelievable view over the lake as the sun went down. I reconnected with some familiar faces, like Iza, Suman's friend from Hulme days and many many new ones. The second event is called Sangeet and is basically an engagement party and this one was set in the ballroom with huge chandeliers and loud booming Indian music. The white guys were always ready far too early; the rookies in this 2-hours-later-than-we-told-you malarkey. The Sangeet consisted of more of the above, but with the added excitement of some of the younger bridal party performing dances (we nipped up to see some of the rehearsals beforehand in Su's suite and again it was madness - shouting over each other and stopping and starting ha), which I loved! They were just having the best time and they all looked so beautiful and full of life and I particularly loved that the guys were just as passionate and involved as we girls. It also included, bizarrely, the proposal! Everyone crowded round the couple as they exchanged engagement rings and Gagan got down on one knee to the glee of the crowd. I can't believe this was the first time Su had been given, or even seen, the engagement ring! How did she know he was a man of good taste before she agreed to the wedding?! Having said that, the ring was chokka block full of diamonds so it worked out OK for her I guess, and lucky for Suman's dad that she didn't say no at this stage! Then we celebrated the engagement!! The morning of day two (the actual wedding day) was carnage. Everyone had had another really late and heavy night. I was told bridal group were being forced to go to bed around 5am and the first event of the day was due to start at 6am!! Needless to say, it did not, and the morning was a game of guess-when-things-are-happening-and-try-not-to-miss-it! It was frustrating as I could have made it to the first event of the day in the end (Haldi & Chura, where they put turmeric on the bride), but I had no idea what time it was happening. Just as I was going to head to the venue I heard that Suman was already at breakfast covered in turmeric! Anyway, I went down to the spa to have my saree wrapped (what a complicated ordeal!) and then we heard that Gagan was arriving so we raced down to the veranda outside reception. And what a show it was! Gagan was on a bejazzled white horse and wearing a veil made of pearls. His friends and family followed him down the hill accompanied by an amazing team of drummers and subsequent jubilant dancing! The older men in Gagan's family were having an absolute blast and throwing money in the air (a tradition of paying the drummers so they keep playing) and waving money over each other's heads which we saw a few times and must be a way of giving good luck or blessing. It was so vibrant and loud and fun! Then after another panic to get everyone into taxis to the temple (apparently Suman wasn't even 100% ready but her dad was kicking off as they were going to miss their appointment and not be able to actually get married!), we made it and Su's dress was absolutely breathtaking. Red, gold, sparkly and just perfect, she looked amazing. The ceremony was more informal than what we had imagined with people chatting and coming in late, but it was really beautifully done and all Su's girlfriends could come up and sit right next to her which felt like such a privilege. The whole thing was like that actually; Suman's family were so inclusive and wanted us to be up close and personal with everything. We obviously didn't know everything that was going on but the guy running the service sang everything he said (it was really impressive!) and Gagan had to lead Su around the alter 4 times which represented 4 promises they were making to each other. Afterwards Su seemed in a sleepy daze and couldn't believe she was actually married!! I also loved that all the men on Suman's side wore pink turbans (including Alex!). I couldn't help but see the symmetry between that and my dad wearing pink shoes... Same thing right? I saw loads more traditions that afternoon including the grand arrival of the new husband and wife (accompanied by deafening confetti canons!), the families giving each other garlands and gifts and hugging, Suman shaking her long wrist jewellery over all the single ladies and whoever it breaks on will get married next (though she made sure everyone got some ha!), and the super emotional ritual of saying goodbye to her family where she throws petals which her family all catch and then they hug her one by one with a lot of tears (obviously including from me). She is then welcomed in by the groom's family and all the men pretend to push them away together in the car. I think I was the only non-family member there, it was a really moving ceremony. Then a quick nap before the reception!! The reception was super classy, this time out on the veranda with fairy lights and ball gowns. The bride and groom entered between firework canons and again Suman looked like a real life princess. It then seemed like no time at all until we were at the after party in the pool side room complete with pool table and DJ! Lots of pictures, drinks and boy, did we dance! Alex was on fire and everyone was loving it! Top night with top people in an unbelievable location. And we didn't pay for one thing the whole time, madness. The next day we managed to squeeze in a little trip down to the lake with Iza and it was truly breathtaking and the little slice of peacefulness that we were very much in need of after all the madness. Thanks so much for having us Su, it was truly unforgettable and we will be forever grateful that we could be there and experience all that we did!! Now, where were we? Ah yes, Bali...

[aboutsonarronisturninghead]

TRUMP’S BIZARRE COMMENTS ABOUT SON BARRON IS TURNING HEAD.

Most of the Trump children have become well-known to the public over the years, but Barron Trump remains a family outlier. The youngest son of President Donald Trump first captivated the eyes of the world late on Election Night when he stood behind his father on the stage while victory was accepted. Barron, of course, looked more sleepy than jubilant on stage, which inadvertently won over the cold hearts of an America that was mostly happy the election cycle was finally over.

[merge-merge]

Things you didn't know about Barron Trump

Things you didn’t know about Barron Trump

Most of the Trump children have become well-known to the public over the years, but Barron Trump remains a family outlier. The youngest son of President Donald Trump first captivated the eyes of the world late on Election Night when he stood behind his father on the stage while victory was accepted. Barron, of course, looked more sleepy than jubilant on stage, which inadvertently won over the…

[caveartfair]

Despite Obstacles, African Countries Shine at the Venice Biennale

A Nigerian performance piece at the Arsenale for the 57th Venice Biennale, 2017. Photo by Casey Kelbaugh for Artsy.

It may come as a surprise to visitors to the 2017 Venice Biennale that across this year’s main exhibition, black artists are relatively absent.

Despite the Nigeria-born Okwui Enwezor’s groundbreaking 2015 Biennale exhibition—which issued a powerful corrective to the art world’s racial imbalances and confronted viewers with the loaded history of colonialism and exploitation—only nine artists of African descent appear in Christine Macel’s “Viva Arte Viva.”

Still, signs of Enwezor’s continued influence and the growing presence of Africa on the art world’s stage can be felt outside of the central exhibition, at a series of African national pavilions and the talks that took place during the opening days of the Biennale as part of the Africa Forum.

Conversations with pavilion organizers revealed the herculean effort it takes to bring a pavilion to fruition without the existing infrastructure that the old world powers have in place—including a permanent space, regular funding sources, government support, and other assets nations like Germany or the United States take for granted when showing in Venice.

Despite these obstacles, several African nations have assembled world-class presentations, and the stories behind them are equally inspiring. Among them is that of the Kenya Pavilion, which has made a heroic appearance at the 2017 Biennale—following a botched attempt at a pavilion in 2015, when it was canceled amid outrage that the organizers were including primarily Chinese artists. (Kenya’s first-ever national pavilion in 2013 was also largely populated by Chinese artists.)

Installation view of Arlene Wandera, On the Ladder, for the Kenya National Pavilion at the 57th Venice Biennale, 2017. Courtesy of Zuecca Project Space.

The pavilion’s curator this year, Jimmy Ogonga, said that, despite going through the necessary planning steps and bureaucracy within Kenya, their approved government funding ultimately failed to materialize. He and the five Kenyan artists included in the pavilion were forced to abandon their original space close to the Punta della Dogana—where Damien Hirst’s fictional tour through the treasures of a shipwreck, including an appropriated 14th-century Nigerian work, is currently drawing large crowds.

In contrast to the staggering glitz and fanfare of Hirst’s show, Ogonga and his team ended up having to transport smaller artworks to Venice in their luggage.    

“It really pushed us to the limit,” said Ogonga. “But accidents are beautiful because they can create miracles. And I think we will only be able to talk about it once everything sinks in, once everyone relaxes. We will be able to look at it in perspective.”  

With the help of Alessandro Possati, director of Venice’s Zuecca Projects, the Kenya Pavilion decamped to a series of classrooms at the top of a school on Giudecca Island—a 30-minute journey from the bustling hubs of the Biennale’s Giardini and Arsenale locations. There, visitors who make their way through the sleepy residential streets of Giudecca find an elegant, ethereal exhibition, featuring the work of Arlene Wandera, Mwangi Hutter, Peterson Kamwathi, Paul Onditi, and Richard Kimathi.

Ogonga notes that Enwezor’s exhibition in 2015 has helped to create momentum around the African national pavilions. “I would compare it quite loosely to the Obama Effect,” he said, “but I don’t expect the full results to be immediate.”

However, Ongonga is quick to offer the caveat that many others have contributed to the visibility of African nations at the Biennale. Those include Raphael Chikukwa, curator of this year’s Zimbabwe Pavilion, who he says has been instrumental in mobilizing resources for both Kenya and Angola (the latter which triumphantly won the Golden Lion with its satellite pavilion in 2013). And Fernando Alvim and Simon Njami, who organized the controversial 2007 African Pavilion, which attempted to represent the whole continent as one entity.

Installation view of Victor Ehikhamenor's, A Biography of the Forgotten, 2017, for the Nigeria National Pavilion at the 57th Venice Biennale, 2017.

The Nigeria Pavilion, which is making its first official appearance in Venice this year, has also been years in the making and a country-wide effort, said the pavilion’s Communications Consultant Ayodeji Rotinwa. The lead curator Adenrele Sonariwo, a gallerist from Lagos, attended the Biennale in 2015, Rotinwa said, and it dawned on her that it was about time the country had official representation.

An earlier effort to mount a Nigerian Pavilion for the 2015 Biennale had failed, which Rotinwa attributed to the country being in the midst of an election year. (Kenya’s lack of funding this year has similarly been tied to the country’s current election cycle.)

In 2017, having learned the lessons of 2015, the Nigeria cohort has put together a pavilion that is privately funded and “almost exclusively Nigerian,” Rotinwa said, from the organizers, to the funders, to the artists—Peju Alatise, Victor Ehikhamenor, and Qudus Onikeku—whose work, shown together, is intended to capture Nigeria’s past, present, and future.

(That’s not to say the organizers didn’t face obstacles this time around, though. The Nigerian Pavilion also had to give up its original space just months before opening because the landlord believed one of the artists, Victor Ehikhamenor, was practicing black magic.)

“I think that Okwui’s show broke the glass ceiling,” said Rotinwa. “Some of the world might know there’s fantastic work being done in Nigeria, but most of the world hasn’t had the opportunity to see these things. This is what Okwui did for African artists. Yes we’re there, we’re present, but we are not being seen.”

Performance of Qudus Onikeku, Right Here, Right Now, 2017, for the Nigeria National Pavilion at the 57th Venice Biennale, 2017.

Perhaps the biggest of Africa’s success stories at the Biennale, though, is South Africa, which has had the advantage of a permanent space in the Biennale’s Arsenale location for the past four iterations of the event. (Egypt is the only other African nation with a permanent space in Venice.) The pavilion had a particularly strong presentation this year, drawing high praise for its ambitious showcase of two immersive works by Mohau Modisakeng and Candice Breitz, exploring the migrant experience and the history of black identity in South Africa.  

The pavilion’s curators, Lucy MacGarry and Musha Neluheni, credit their more confident outing at this year’s Biennale partly to this being the first time the pavilion has been allowed to receive private or corporate support—from galleries and an auction house, among others—beyond primary funding from the South African Department of Arts and Culture. “That’s a big step forward for us,” said MacGarry. “It’s enabled us to market the pavilion properly and have things like a party, which is important to get together as a community. But it’s also to encourage a feeling of investment from our local network.”

That investment was on full view at a dinner celebrating the South African pavilion during the Biennale’s opening days, where the mood was jubilant, and where attendees represented the country’s rapidly evolving art world. Those included Frank Kilbourn, of Strauss & Co, one of South Africa’s homegrown auction houses, and Jochen Zeitz, who is set to open the much-anticipated Zeitz Museum of Contemporary Art Africa in Cape Town later this year.

With the additional support of the South African art community, the curators chose to eschew what they said was the politically correct approach to presenting on the global stage—to take as many artists as possible to the Biennale in order to share the platform widely. “They always think: everyone needs a chance,” said Neluheni of South Africa’s local art community.

But in light of the country’s growing art industry, they felt it was time to focus on the quality and curatorial strength of their presentation, rather than inclusivity. “I think we’re at a point now where we can compete at an international level in a very real way,” said MacGarry. “So our intention was to limit the number of artists and bring it down, and make it a little more immersive.”

Detail of Peju Alatise's, Flying Girls, 2016, for the Nigeria National Pavilion at the 57th Venice Biennale, 2017.

While African nations present at this year’s Biennale have been receiving acclaim—Tunisia, returning to Venice after more than 50 years, also drew praise for its series of kiosks issuing universal passports to become a citizen of the world—another pavilion showing artists of color is working to counter the notion of national identity as an organizing rubric altogether.

The Diaspora Pavilion, showing 19 artists of diverse backgrounds—from well-known artists like Yinka Shonibare MBE and Isaac Julien to lesser-knowns, like Larry Achiampong and Barbara Walker—is a project of the International Curators Forum (ICF), led by the British Afro-Caribbean curator David A. Bailey.

“David has wanted to do this for a decade,” said Jessica Taylor, the ICF’s Director of Programmes. “He launched the ICF in Venice in 2007, and everything he’s done up until then has led up to this moment.”

Enwezor has exerted some influence over the Diaspora Pavilion, too. The plans for the pavilion began to take shape after the ICF took four emerging artists and curators to Venice in 2015, Taylor says, and the curators also traveled to Munich’s Haus der Kunst, where Enwezor is director, to meet with the curator in February of this year.

“We held a masterclass for the 10 curators on Okwui’s ‘Postwar’ show at the museum,” said Taylor. “And the question he posed to all of us was: What is our project, and how are we going to add to the building of knowledge?”

Installation view of Mohau Modisakeng, Passage, 2017, for the South Africa National Pavilion at the 57th Venice Biennale, 2017.

The exhibition Taylor mentioned, “Postwar: Art Between the Pacific and the Atlantic, 1945–1965,” curated by Enwezor along with Katy Siegel and Ulrich Wilmes, examined art production from a global perspective in the years following World War II—a period that marked the end of the old world order and colonialism, and the rise of both nation-building and liberation movements.  

As knowledge and awareness of Africa’s enormous contributions to the history and present of art continues to take root, one hopes that future exhibitions at the Biennale will similarly capture that wide-angled perspective on cultural achievements around the world—and that more African nations will find permanent homes in Venice.

—Tess Thackara

from Artsy News

[tinymixtapes]

Music Review: Perfume Genius - No Shape

Perfume Genius No Shape [Matador; 2017] Rating: 4/5 Something is happening, isn’t it? Perfume Genius’ Mike Hadreas has a longstanding love of David Lynch. If the content varies, heart-tones resonate between them: weird breaks within conventional structures, a sense of play amidst extreme disquiet, the psychic battle of self-destruction and self-preservation, a dream logic as the undercurrent for telegraphed surprises, and an earnest, if heightened and campy, belief in love’s fantasy. A vision of light. Hadreas is from Washington and must’ve found kindred souls in the sleepy, dreeeamy town of Twin Peaks, even in the dirty, subtitled back rooms of One-Eyed Jack’s or on stage with the slo-mo drift of a spotlighted and vanishing Julee Cruise, staring at night with the whoing owls. In its heartbreaking 14th episode, the roadside singer performs “Rockin’ Back Inside My Heart” at The Bang Bang Bar and the volume spikes. The sax rips open a portal while the rest of the song continues on, seemingly unaffected but wholly disturbed. Perfume Genius refines this loud-quiet on No Shape and continues his fascination with disruption (a Giant materializes to break up several songs here). All of this is introduced with a technique far removed from early recordings, but one that was lurking in the emotional intensity of those songs, here unveiled: volume. No Shape begins the way Perfume Genius albums have always begun, with a softly assured piano melody and the strangely sweet voice that belongs to Hadreas (and sometimes belongs to an angel or a devil, and to us listening, who take it into our own throats to sing along, “Just like love”). But at first, it’s the characteristic softness, which shouldn’t be taken for frailty, though we can be forgiven for thinking so — “Otherside” walks a fine line. So it comes as a system shock when that meager, familiar, prayerful beginning dives headfirst into noise, really plunges into the big sound, like stadium-M83-stardust. Like your headphones held so much more space than you knew and definitely more than you knew Perfume Genius could take up (“Queen” still packs that same punch, but feels roomy compared to this set-dressing-stuffed Otherside). Its power is to restore mystery to your daydreams and to put a skip in your sleepwalk. To take you “away-ee-ay.” These pop-forward moments are frontloaded on No Shape, extravagant and baroque. The soaring production value is not accompanied by conceptual upending or reinvention, but rather extends into a grand sort of sequel vision of Perfume Genius. “Go Ahead” seems to take up “Fool”; “Valley” echoes “No Good.” There’s the increasing tendency to wear influences on his sleeve alongside his heart. Centerpiece “Wreath” has the big propulsive Kate Bush heart and that “Carolyn’s Fingers” outro. The revelations don’t go quietly. “Slip Away” is bursting at the seams with anthem. So, you learn to love pomp and pastiche, or this whole affair comes off a bit gauche, maybe even obvious along an indie trajectory. But then you’ll miss the hallways and valleys these songs open doors to, the forest for the camp, the delirious smirk behind the smoky eyes. The quirk of Twin Peaks never brought that much levity, all things considered. And it didn’t distract from the abject horror. It all breathed together, mysteriously, without a body. A threshold has been seen and crossed (the water resistance made a splash on Too Bright, reflecting like a Malibu pool), and now Hadreas is remembering how to tread water, fighting the urge to dive for dark parts, beating back the bore of buoyancy, and cultivating a garden out of his grid. Grafted a peach tree and a pear tree to dream a hundred different possibilities in its shade. The moon and sun are visible at once in the blue expanse of the apocalyptic sky, but below a victory churns in circles. There’s a sort of religious, blockbuster dual-sentimentality that shines over the album, while casting shadows for Side B to cut deeply into. “Choir” makes “Longpig” and “I’m A Mother” seem chill, and “Run Me Through” sidesteps into a hair-raising “Lonely Souls” sax interlude. A fear, confirmed: the possibility that love is not enough. A hope, on the horizon: that at least some love could last forever. It’s a mystery, perhaps, how the album’s quiet closer “Alan,” a love song for Hadreas’s long-time boyfriend, can sound a victory compared to the jubilant noise of the opener. It’s somewhere in the manifold plea, “How long must we live right/ Before we don’t even have to try” from “Valley.” It’s a question of political respectability and personhood amidst retroactive precarization. It’s a question of self-control and persistence, of the undertow that addiction and depression create like a wavepool of loss, when what was lost felt vital even if it were poisoned. Questions in a world of blue. It’s the difficulty of living right when you’re told you’re wrong, when you wanna be wrong, and sometimes when you know you’re wrong. Striking poses, posturing at subjectivity without taking a shape. Coordinating a look, formless and composed, unraveling and stable. “Alan” is an answer, a small comfort, a love. No Shape can be at the same time a celebration of hard-won fixtures and a denial of fixity. So its strings scream and serenade, and its voices beg and coo. And then, after the loudness and without sounding like a retreat, No Shape vanishes. Walking into a vision of light, revealing itself to itself. Daring you to defy it and inviting you to join: “Go ahead.” http://j.mp/2pZqy6s

[hataraku-headcanons-blog]

What Happens When We Fall Asleep?

The night shift was starting and the typically quick pace in the internal carotid artery was beginning to slow. While many red blood cells yawned, trudging along the dirt path at as slow a speed as the blood pressure would allow, one red-headed cell seemed to almost light up the darkened vessel with her enthusiasm.

AE-3803 hummed to herself as she pushed her box of oxygen, marveling at the scenery at night time. 

“It’s so peaceful,” she murmured, taking in the slightly cooler night air and the way the lights from the windows of the common cells’ houses cast a faint glow along the street. 

She followed the straight, wide path up and up and still further up until she reached the entrance to the brain. 

She paused, checked her notes and nodded.

“I’m going the right way!” she whispered excitedly, not wanting to be too loud and disturb the serene atmosphere. Taking a deep breath, the red blood cell kept along the path she had written. 

3803 stepped into the brain and gasped aloud. 

Brain: “A major organ of the body. A control center for coordination of actions and motion, regulation of homeostasis and involuntary bodily functions, and the processing of external information into thoughts, feelings and memories.”

The brain was like nothing she’d ever seen before. A rich forest bloomed before her, tall flowering trees with lights strung along them. The little lights illuminated, one after another, down a row to another tree, then went out. Again and again they flickered and glowed, all up and down the criss-crossing pathways, now an uneven cobblestone. 

She was delighted to see the beautiful flowering trees were actually homes- lights flickered from within, and she could see a cell poke his head out of a door, graciously accepting a cup of steaming tea from a yellow-suited man with a floral lapel. AE-3803 could smell the tea as it wafted through the air and her whole body began to feel more relaxed and sleepy. 

She shook her head. No time for that- she had a job to do!

3803, from what she had just seen and what her senpai had told her, was pretty sure that the man serving tea was an astrocyte. 

Astrocyte: “Maintains homeostatic levels in the brain and central nervous system. Performs a wide variety of tasks such as axon guidance, synaptic support and control of blood flow through the brain. Their role in sleep is not well understood, but it is known that astrocytes produce a hormone called adenosine, which makes us tired. They are called ‘astro’ for their star-like shape.”

The man smiled and bowed his head towards her in greeting, one hand over his heart. 3803 cheerily waved back.

“Hello!” she called out. She waved to the other cell who was just about to go back inside. He blinked and blearily waved back before closing the door. 

“Ah, it really is lovely up here!” she sighed, pulling out her notes. “Okay, so there’s a crossroads up ahead... if I take a right, I’ll be in the ophthalmic artery... no wait, is that the cerebral? Maybe I have to take a left? Aaah, I don’t want to get lost! Senpai trusted me with thi-”

She abruptly crashed into something and went flying backwards. The thing grunted and she realized with a jolt that she had collided with an actual person. 

“Ahh! I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Eee, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright,” said a familiar voice. “I- oh. Red Blood Cell.”

“White Blood Cell!” 3803 gasped. 

The two got to their feet slowly, 3803 feebly trying to conceal her embarrassment, U-1146 honestly just amazed at the fact that his tea hadn’t gone flying out of his hand. 

“I’m really sorry!” 3803 said again.

“Don’t be,” he replied. “No harm done. We sure do bump into each other a lot though. I suppose quite literally now.”

“Ahaha, yeah...”

“I’ve never seen you on a night shift before,” 1146 commented. “Where are you headed?”

“Ah, I have a delivery to a cell above the eye!” 3803 exclaimed, some of the enthusiasm returning to her voice. “My senpai thought I should take the night shift since I’ve been able to navigate better in the day, as a kind of challenge. And it’s my first time this far up in the brain too, but I’ve come prepared!”

She held up her notes and he nodded. 

“All I have to do,” she pointed to the left, “is take that path straight up to the supraorbital artery! I’ve got it all planned out!”

“Um. Well,” 1146 said quietly, trailing off. 

She pointed to the right.

“It’s the other way, isn’t it.”

He nodded. 

She just sighed and pushed her trolley along to the right. 

In a few moments, the neutrophil had caught up, keeping pace beside her.

“Wait, are we going the same way?” 3803 asked, puzzled.

“Just patrolling,” he replied, sipping his tea. “I thought we could walk together for a bit.”

“Sure!” she agreed, beaming. 

They walked in silence for a bit, both taking in the beautiful lights that slowed in their progress as they traveled. 

A bright stream of light suddenly went coursing above their heads and out of the brain, lighting the street below almost as though it were day.

AE-3803 shrieked, ducking down and instinctively covering her head. 

“What was that?!”

“Just a strong electrical signal sent by the neurons. Probably triggering the hypnagogic jerk. Nothing to be afraid of.”

The red blood cell slowly rose to her feet, and sensing no danger, she continued along the opthalmic artery, the neutrophil following alongside. AE-3803 grabbed her notes. 

“Hypnagogic jerk...” she muttered, flipping through the pages. 

U-1146 narrowed his one visible eye curiously. 

“Ah, it’s when the muscles twitch as sleep starts!” AE-3803 exclaimed. “It’s a normal thing; it happens during stage one sleep!”

“That’s right,” 1146 said, with mild surprise. “Where did you learn that?”

“Oh,” she smiled. “My senpai wanted me to be prepared so she told me what she knows. I took lots of notes, see?”

She flipped through the pages rapidly and U-1146 nodded appreciatively. 

“Would you tell me what you know?”

“Eh? Um,” 3803 hesitated, suddenly a little self-conscious. “Don’t you already know these things?”

“I do,” he replied evenly. “But I’m not as familiar with the role of red blood cells at night. I may learn something.”

“Well...” she trailed off, then shook her head, beaming. “Okay! I’ll tell you what I know!”

At that moment, static crackled from his transceiver. 

“Ah, one moment, Red Blood Cell.”

“Sure, sure!”

The neutrophil removed the transceiver and spoke into it clearly. 

“This is U-1146. No activity to report from the ophthalmic artery. Will continue patrolling through to the supraorbital and continue to report at regular intervals.”

“Cool,” came U-4989′s reply, crackling out from the speaker. “We’ll both end up in the same vein on the way back; guess I’ll see you later!”

“Later,” 1146 replied, then he put away the transceiver. “Sorry, Red Blood Cell. You can start now.”

“Oh it’s no problem!”

1146 took a sip of his tea as she began. 

“So,” she said, looking around. “Things seem to have settled down, so I think we’re done with stage 1 sleep and are on to stage 2!”

He nodded.

“This is the time the neurons help make memories! They take the events of the day and decide from there what should be kept and what can be forgotten. Some of them will encode the memories for later.”

She pointed at a neuron, who was feeding a thick cable through a hole in the wall that led inside his house. 

“That’s probably what he’s doing right now!”

The two blood cells continued walking, unaware of the bewildered blinking neuron behind them.

“Why was she pointing at me? What am I doing?” he mumbled, sleepy from the chamomile tea. After a moment of confusion, he shrugged and got back to work.

“I believe that neuron was also rearranging the connections between him and his neighbours,” 1146 added.

“He was?”

“Yes. That’s one of the main principles of how neuroplasticity works.”

Neuroplasticity: “The brain’s ability to rearrange and form new neuronal connections in response to learning, experience or injury.”

“So what’s your role in this?” 1146 asked.

“I deliver oxygen and take away carbon dioxide, like usual,” 3803 smiled. “But the blood flow is slower at night, so it’s not as rushed.”

She briefly checked her notes and nodded.

“While I’m up here, I’m supposed to also gather up any loose hormones that didn’t get used today. After I circulate around the heart and lungs, I’ll take what I’ve collected to the liver for the hepatocytes to get rid of.”

A crackling static sound and 1146, briefly apologizing, reported into his transceiver again. A dainty sounding female voice replied and the conversation came to a close.

“You sure are using that a bit more than usual White Blood Cell,” 3803 commented, tilting her head.

“We neutrophils have to at night,” he replied. “There are less of us circulating, but we communicate more to compensate. The other white blood cells; the macrophages and dendritic cells also communicate more, with each other and with us. That was Macrophage just now.”

“I see!”

“Hey,” called a cell from the right. “You, red blood cell!”

“Yes?” she answered, startled. 

“Could you take these for me?” he asked, holding up three file folders. “I didn’t use them and they’re just kind of lying around.”

“Oh, of course!” 3803 agreed, taking the folders from him and plopping them on top of her box of oxygen.

“Thank you for your hard work!” the cell said, returning to his house.

“Thank you for yours!” 3803 called out cheerfully after him. 

AE-3803 held up the file folders for U-1146 to see. 

“These are the hormones I was telling you about. My first collection!” 

She looked positively jubilant about the whole thing, even though it was just another job in the life of a red blood cell. U-1146 tipped his hat slightly as the pair continued to meander up the tree-lined arterial pathway.

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

“Delta sleep is beginning now,” AE-3803 commented, watching the neurons catch a few zzz’s while their computers’ delta programs ran lazy waves up and down the strings of lights.

“Mm,” 1146 agreed. 

A few red blood cells ran by, carrying red and white striated file folders labelled “Growth”. 

“They’re taking growth hormone to the muscles in the body, White Blood Cell,” 3803 told him. She sighed wistfully. “I almost wish I’d had that job instead. I’d love to see how the muscle cells repair themselves.”

“Next time?” 1146 suggested.

“I hope so!”

AE-3803 suddenly jolted, her head alert. U-1146 instantly tensed, his fingers itching to grab his knife.

“What happened?”

“I just realized- where are all the T-cells?” she gasped. “There’s usually at least one squad that jogs by, but I haven’t seen any!”

“Ah, they barely circulate in the bloodstream at night,” 1146 told her, releasing some of his tension. 

“Where do they go?” 

“Actually... no one’s completely sure.”

“Eh?!?” AE-3803 glanced around her with wide eyes, as if a killer T-cell was going to jump out of nowhere all of a sudden. 

“They probably go back to the lymph ducts,” 1146 added quickly. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“It’s still kind of scary...” she muttered.

“...it is,” the neutrophil agreed. 

“We’re almost there!” 3803 realized, bouncing on her feet excitedly. “The capillary I need should be right up here-”

A rumbling echoed from behind the duo, growing steadily louder. 

“Uhh...” the two uttered, hesitantly turning their heads in sync and blanching when they saw what was happening. 

Red blood cells raced towards them in a mass of hats, jackets, and trolleys of oxygen.

“W-White Blood Cell?! What’s happening?!”

“It’s-”

AE-3803 screeched as the mass of cells overtook them. 

“Ahh! I lost White Blood Cell!” she shrieked, racing just to keep up with the other cells and keep her footing. “White Blood Cell! What’s going on?”

“REM sleep!” a red blood cell on her right shouted. 

“REM sleep?”

REM sleep: “Stage of sleep characterized by rapid eye movement, increased pulse and breathing, and muscle paralysis. This is the stage in which dreams take place.”

“Oh, of course!” the red blood cell exclaimed. “The blood flow increases during this stage!”

Running through the supraorbital, packed in with other busy red blood cells, AE-3803 marveled at the way the trees seemed to come to life again, lighting strings along the path, swooping from tree to tree in sparks of light. Slowly, monitors folded down from the branches, acting as projector screens, capturing the light from the neuron’s homes like a feature film. 

The dream ran across the projectors like a kaleidoscope of thought, memory and colour as AE-3803 pushed her oxygen along, gazing upwards and all around at the dazzling display. 

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” a red blood cell shouted as her trolley very nearly collided with his own. 

“Aah! Sorry!”

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

AE-3803 breathed a sigh of relief. REM sleep over, next sleep cycle beginning,  oxygen delivered, carbon dioxide and hormones picked up- she was ready to circulate through the heart and lungs again.

Back in the veins, things were a bit quieter, so she had time to do one extra thing before she headed off. 

“U-4989!”

The neutrophil whirled around suddenly, speaking around the dumpling he was carrying in his mouth. His hands were occupied with fastening his knife to a large rock.  

“Oh, hey Red Blood Cell!” 

If the sight confused her at all, then AE-3803 said nothing of it.

“Have you seen White Blood Cell- U-1146? We got separated during REM sleep...”

U-4989 let out a short bark of laughter.

“Yeah, I can take you to him.”

The neutrophil weaved through the red blood cells, the girl close behind him.

“There he is!” U-4989 said, gesturing.

“White Blood Cell! ...oh.”

On a bench off to the side of the vessel, U-1146 sat, his head having since bobbed back to allow his tired body to relax. 

AE-3803 blinked to ensure she was seeing things right. U-1146... had fallen asleep! Then again, she thought, he must’ve needed the rest after all the work he did. 

“Out like a neuron’s signal,” 4989 shrugged, winking. 

AE-3803 smiled at the sleeping neutrophil, then patted him on the shoulder.

“Good night, White Blood Cell,” she said softly. She returned to her pathway and hurried off, calling out over her shoulder to 4989 briefly.

“Thank you for your hard work!”

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

Disclaimers: 

This series, Hataraku Saibou, was not written by me but by Akane Shimizu.

**RBCs do not actually carry hormones; they are transported through the blood plasma... but since nutrients were represented as being carried by the RBCs (they are also in the plasma), then I think it’s fine. 

**The length of time of a sleep cycle is much longer than the time it takes for a blood cell to circulate the body; this was changed merely to give the two main characters a chance to talk for a bit.