#me when i tried to listen to some of the inauguration broadcast and they were talking about the mythos of taming the american frontier

[stories-from-my-mind-to-yours]

Humans. Pet, Protégés or Predator? Part V. Ancient truths.

Omega draconis, Omega homeworld. Five days had passed since Cerin's... experience. He had decided to take some time off, due to obvious reasons. The vote concerning the humans had proved useless, since they had opted out of an inauguration, and instead had simply asked to form a coalition of sorts, in all but name exactly the same thing, but in the humans paraphrased words: "but this was our idea."

He couldn't really blame them, young as they were, it's like watching hatchlings try to catch their first rekkh, (a lava-living snake, 2 ft in lengt, often kept as a pet) absolutely convinced no one had ever done it before. Well it had been four million cycles since any egg had actually hatched, but still. The humans were so... for lack of a better word, childish. But at the same time, one of the most tenacious, inventive and dangerous creatures to ever sail the cosmos.

His mind wandered far, as it does when one has nothing to do but wait. He thought of a story his father had told him when he was little. The story of The First Four.

In the beginning there were Alpha, Beta, Gamma and Delta. Alpha and Gamma were female, Beta and Delta were male. Alpha was blue, Beta was red, Gamma was green, and Delta was yellow. The story went on to describe the many great things they did, Alpha had lain thousands of eggs, and she cared for them all, for she was the Brood Queen. Beta was the Father and Teacher, he had shown them how to hunt, and taught them speech and writing. Gamma was the Caregiver, she who gave them heat and comfort. Delta was a trickster, mischievous and inventive, he had found all kinds of new things, like the magma caves they most often slept in.

This is of course considered pure myth by some, and there is no scientific evidence that they had ever existed. But Cerin was a believer, and as such he drew his heritage from Gamma. His thoughts trailed to the fragile creature that slept below his feet.

The female Omega had spoken very little, she answered with yes or no, or a few words together, she had even forgotten to tell him her name, but there would be time for pleasantries later. He had brought her home, not in any way because he felt any obligation for either of them to mate, but simply because it was her home.

He had offered her food several times on the journey home, but she insisted on not feeding until she stood on Omegan soil again. He had obliged her, considering the circumstances, Omegans that hadn’t fed in a prolonged period became irritated and sometimes aggressive, and he didn’t want to provoke her. When they reached his home she had devoured not one, but two whole karrahk! (Imagine a crossbreed between an crocodile and a sabertooth tiger) and for a creature not even five feet tall, that was unbelievably impressive.

After she had fed she needed to digest, so naturally he had offered her one of the volcanic caverns beneath his dwelling, which was for that purpose after all. So she slept, for four days so far, but he had no idea of how long she had hibernated inside the Obelisk. They could hibernate for millions of cycles, but encased in stone? That was new to him. New to anyone. They did need to breathe after all, even though they could ingest oxygen or sulfur through their scales, it was far less effective. But solid rock? As far as he knew, that wasn’t possible. They could swim in lava, but not breathe in it. Should one be trapped in hardening lava or in the vast emptiness of space, you would die.

But that wasn't what occupied his mind at the moment. She would be ready when she was ready, questions could wait until then.

The news of the events that had taken place on Titan had been live broadcasted throughout the universe. Trillions had seen this unassuming little green lizard, barely five feet tall, increase in size tenfold, and turn into a fairytale monster mothers would scare their young with. He had seen the images of it, and it had left him speechless. But reporters didn't worry him the least, since the atmosphere on Omega is toxic to anyone who doesn't breathe or can at least tolerate high levels of sulfur and sulfuric acid rain, and Omegans weren't that interested in him.

But the news of an Omega female had quickly spread far and wide, and most Omegans had returned home to see this legendary being. That was what bothered him the most. They had never been especially numerous, but this, this was truly horrifying. At their peak there had been around 400,000 Omegans. Now, on their entire planet, there were 172 Omega. Even worse, was the fact that of the few who had survived, over a hundred of them were so old they probably didn't have many cycles left in their hearts. He felt sorrow for his many sisters and brothers that lay sleeping in the eternally churning magma below. But there was nothing he could do for now, but wait. He painted. He slept. He hunted and prepared the meat. And then slept again. But eventually he got terribly bored.

He decided it was a good time to see if he could transform again. He tried everything he could think of, even hitting himself to induce pain, but to no avail. For two full days he experimented, before deciding it must be involuntary, and simply gave up. It was almost morning, he had fed a little, and was just about to get some rest when he heard the soft rasp of scaly feet traversing the tunnel from the magma caves.

He had heard the old ones describe young fertile females, the way they had exaggerated their beauty had made him believe their old age had made their minds... slightly less trustworthy, to not speak ill of the dead.

But their words fell oh so short in light of this creature before him. No words could describe her beauty. Cerin had most certainly fallen madly in love with this, for him, unobtainable goddess. The shape of her body enticed him in ways he had never felt before.

He watched as she slowly crawled up out of the tunnel in the floor, not completely awake by the look on her face, but he undoubtedly saw she had shed her skin. Considering how long she had hibernated it was probably long overdue. It explained the excessive feeding as well as the long sleep.

Before, her scales had been a very dull light blue, almost grey. At risk of being insulting, he would have described her as boring. But now... She took his breath away. The now fierce blue tint of her scales revealed she was a direct descendant of Alpha, one of their First Four. He had never seen such strong coloration of scales before. It was a deep, dark midnight blue, and the shimmer on her scales was mesmerizing.

The red jagged lines that before had been barely visible, now had spread across her cheeks, highlighting her feminine snout that now glowed with heat, indicating she must’ve slept very close to the magma.

He remained still, certain she would notice his presence, unwilling to startle someone that had just awoken. She took no notice him, instead she walked into the storage room, where he had hung meat to dry. He felt slightly insulted, but decided to give her some leeway, and sat down at the carved stone bench that was as round as the main dome of his dwelling. The fire pit in the middle had gone out, but the sun would soon heat the surface to a more pleasant temperature. She returned from the storage room with a dried karrahk hind leg, with a large chunk already missing from it. He watched her silently as she made her way around and sat down at the opposing side. She ate in silence, and didn’t even acknowledge he was there. This confused him.

“Ssheeyak sha rasshassh ssherr?” (Did you sleep well?) He asked in their ancient native language. He had missed speaking it, to speak to someone of his own kind.

She had apparently not noticed he was there. She quickly looked up, startled, and swallowed hard, and immediately looked down at the floor.

“Forgive me, I did not see you Guardian, please forgive my faults and be lenient in my punishment.”

“Punishment? Why would I punish you? And why do you call me guardian?”

He couldn’t see her face, but her hands moved nervously, and she stared at the floor. When she spoke, she whispered so low he could barely hear her.

“You... you are of Gamma. You are Guardian. I... forgive me Guardian, I do not understand...” He could hear in her voice that she was close to tears.

He stood up and walked to her, and kneeled at her side. He put his claws under her jaw and lifted it so she would face him, but she shied away and turned her head, as if he would strike her.

“I may be of Gamma, but I will not harm you in any way. I would never do that.”

He paused briefly. He could see that she listened.

“My name is Cerin. The only female I have ever seen died when I was only a few hundred cycles old. She was the last female that lived.” He hesitated, not sure what effect his next words would have.

“No eggs would hatch after that, and most of the remaining males grew old and died. We may have forgotten many things, but I would never punish you for not seeing me, and I have never heard of a Guardian. Now, please, look at me.”

As he begged her to look at him, she slowly turned her head to face him, with disbelief and tears in her eyes. He knew not how old she was, but he knew she must be ancient, to have lived under such a rule.

“Please, speak to me. Why don't you start with your name? And if you can, please explain why you were inside the Obelisk."

She hesitated. She wanted to speak, but couldn’t control her voice just yet.

“Take your time,” he said, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He heard her breathing and hearts slowly returning to normal.

“My name is Amara of Alpha.” He looked into her deep blue eyes. He was utterly lost. He would give anything at her whim, be it his life if she wanted, he wouldn’t hesitate. As she continued he sensed the pride in her heritage, being Alpha is to be the Mother amongst children. Alpha leads, all others follow.

“I am the oldest hatchling of my den. I was encased in The Obelisk because the stone would protect us when all others died, to preserve us deeper than hibernation. My mother and her sister was among the first to die. After that my father made the obelisks to protect me and my sisters.”

“There are others?” He didn’t dare hope there were more like her.

“There were,” she answered. “I don’t know if they remain. We were nine sisters. My father made nine, pillars of rebirth he called them.”

“Your father, how did he make them?”

“With fire, like yours, when you saved me from the stone. I never thanked you.”

He bowed graciously. He saw a hint of a smile.

“You were calling my name from within the Obelisk, then I transformed into... whatever that was.”

“A primordial.” She answered. “How do you not know this?”

“We forgot so many things... We forgot how to transform.”

“Shapeshift.” She corrected. “You are a shapeshifter.”

"Please tell me, you called me Guardian. What did you mean?"

"You are the Guardian. You are a descendant of Gamma.”

She sat before him, confused. Tears fell from her bright blue eyes and trickled down her thorny cheeks. When she spoke her voice cracked with despair.

"So much knowledge lost... Gamma was the first Guardian. The Protector. The Keeper. She was also the first shapeshifter. She guarded our lands, our people and our knowledge."

She fell silent, tears streaming down her face.

Cerin softly wiped her tears away.

"You speak of her as if you actually knew her."

She shook her head and took his hand in hers, holding it softly.

"No, I never got to know her, but I remember her from when my father took me to see her as she lay down for the longest sleep. She was beautiful. You have her eyes... Cerin of Gamma."

He sat before her with a look of absolute disarray on his face. He struggled to fathom the age of this fragile creature before him. And to have met one of the First Four. He was speechless.

"She really lived? Do you... So long you must've slept... How old were Gamma? How old were you when the Sundering began? I have so many questions."

She put her hand on his studded cheek.

"I will try to answer all your questions, but there is something you must do for me first."

He nodded. "Anything."

“There is something I want to show you, but I don’t remember where it is, I only know there is a colossal door at the foot of one of the biggest volcanoes.”

He frowned his snout in thought. “I don’t know of any doors, but the biggest volcanoes are on the other side of the planet, the sleeping ridge. I don’t have a ship here and It’ll take weeks to get there.”

She smiled very lightly, which is the only was an Omegan can smile, since their taut scales allow very little movement, making them masters of face and body language.

“What?” He looked insulted, he didn’t understand but her face told him he had said something incredibly amusing.

“Cerin, you may be older than I in years lived, and one should always show respect for the Guardian, but in my time you would have been called “sshasscheesh”.

He chuckled to himself. Village idiot, hm?

“Well,” he spoke softly, “had there been anyone as beautiful as you here to teach me, I would’ve known even less, as I would’ve only gazed into your bottomless blue eyes.” Her eyes widened and the red lines on her snout blossomed in color, as she turned her face away and closed her eyes.

He was surprised by her reaction. “Forgive me, did I insult you? I apologize. I meant not to hurt you.”

She gazed upon him under halfclosed eyelids. “You did not insult me, Cerin of Gamma, you made me blush.”

“Ah... well, I do not regret it. You are a very beautiful female, but I have only seen two. But I... I feel different when I’m close to you.”

She smiled again. “I know Cerin, your cheeks are practically glowing.” He quickly felt his cheeks, they were warmer than ever, he quickly walked to the mirrorpond, and gasped at the sight of his face. They were glowing!

“What does this mean? I have never...”

She had without a sound walked up behind him, she put her hand on his shoulder, and turned him around. She stood much to close he thought, so close he couldn’t move.

“Amara, what...” she interrupted him. “Shh... You have never, and neither have I, but my mother told me I would know when I found my mate. You make me happy, you make me feel beautiful, and you have already saved my life. I know I want to be with you. From now on, Cerin of Gamma, you are mine, and I am yours, until the end of time, if you will have me.”

He was absolutely stunned. He couldn’t speak, he tried but couldn’t form a single sound. Her smile made his knees weak, and he felt he could drown in those beautiful eyes.

“Cerin, are you all right?” She asked. He could barely nod.

Something inside him had awakened, something he had never felt in his long life. Lust. Desire. Love. He didn’t know what to call it, but her, confessing her feelings for him had given him all he could ever want. He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the magma caves. He carefully placed her on the biggest stone in the cave, her eyes glinted in the glowing light of the bright orange magma. The heat in the cave made him tremble, his hands were shaking. His breath was hot, and his hearts pounded in his chest.

“Easy,” she whispered. “Cherish this moment, it is the last of our lives as children. We will be reborn, as it has always been.” He didn’t understand, and his expression reflected it. “You really have forgotten everything haven’t you?” He thought for a second and nodded.

She sighed. “I will teach you all I know, and we will teach our hatchlings. And they will teach all our people. But for now it is just you and me. Lay with me, my love, and see what happens.”

She pulled him close, and in the bright orange glow of churning magma, they made love for the first time.

Cerin woke slowly, he felt different somehow, but the feeling of Amara’s warm scales pressing against his body made his hearts beat faster. He put his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him.

“Your breath tickles,” she mumbled. He rubbed his chin against hers, feeling the warmth she radiated.

“Feeling you-“ he interrupted himself, shocked to hear his own voice, and sat up quickly. He had not expected to hit his head on the ceiling of the cave that he had walked down into, and he hit it hard.

“What? Why do I sound like this?” His deep growling voice scared even him.

She laughed, and the sound echoed of the walls. She sounded differently too.

“I told you, my love, you would see what happened.” She sat up and turned towards him. She looked very much different, but still the same eyes. He touched her face, and in the orange glow he saw his hand. He could barely recognize it, the scars he had earned was there, but this was not the hand he had been born with. The six fingers were longer and thicker, the claws sharper than karrahk teeth.

“Wait until you see your face my love.” She crawled of the stone, and had to crawl out of the cave. Had the ceiling caved in? He didn’t understand, a feeling he was getting used to. And what was this about his face? He rolled of the stone and crawled towards the entrance to the cave.

Amara had already crawled up, he saw light from above as he started crawling through the tunnel. Halfway up, he got stuck. There was nowhere near enough room for him to get out, he reached out with one arm and could feel the floor of the dwelling above.

He sighed. “Amara, I’m stuck. How can I be stuck? This makes no sense! And why do I sound like a karrahk male in heat!?” She looked down from up above. “It’s fine my love, just dig in your claws and pull yourself up.” He grunted, tried to twist himself around to get a better angle, and pressed his claws down into the massive stone floor, and pulled. He heard and felt the stone around him crumbling, his shoulders and back scraped against the jagged rocks. Finally his other arm came loose, he dug down in the floor and pulled his way up. When he stood up he looked around himself, baffled by how different everything looked. Everything was so small! “It isn’t your dwelling that has changed my love, it is you. And I.”

He turned around, and the sight before him made his cheeks warm. Amara was changed, her tail was longer, her body more curved than before, her legs looked longer, yet she was shorter. She came closer and embraced him, she barely reached to his chest, where she before had been almost the same height as him. She looked up at him. Her cheeks were wider, her snout smaller, and short fur covered her scalp. “Why are you shorter?” He asked. She laughed. “Oh my love, I’m not shorter, it is you who are taller! Look in the mirrorpond if you do not believe me.” He turned around, and the insight hit him like a rock in the head. The mirrorpond that had earlier reached him to the chest, now didn’t even reach his waist. He bent down and gazed upon his face. The pond was too small to let him see his entire face, but what he saw scared him. It was the face of the monster, the Primordial that stared back at him. The elongated snout and jaw, teeth made to kill, the bony ridges around his eyes, oh and the eyes, if those eyes didn’t scream murder he didn’t know what did. He quickly turned to Amara again.

“Please tell me this is a dream. It cannot be real! I am a monster!”

“Oh it is very real. When there is no Queen or Guardian anymore, our bodies sense it, and when two lovers mate, they evolve into what is missing. When the last Queen and Guardian died, our world was made wanting.”

“Now it is our turn, our responsibility to fill that void. And we will fill it, with our hatchlings, and they will fill it with theirs. But we will be Queen and Guardian for the rest of our lives. This is our time, my love. And you are not a monster. What you was before was a child. Now, you are the Father.” She caressed her stomach. “In here lay your children, for now. Come, feel them.” He knelt down before her, and in her abdomen he could sense them, he could see them. Small glowing pods of slumbering fire. “There must be hundreds!” He beamed with pride and joy. He stood and swooped her up into his arms in one sweeping motion, intoxicated by her, by himself, and the things he had learned.

“I love you, my Queen.”

“And I love you, my Guardian. My terrible fire breathing monster.”

[memorylang]

February’s Holidays in America | #50 | February 2021

Been feeling great! 2O2I goes well for me. I’m excited to have received more word from the Peace Corps that they’ll be in touch when they have a final timeline for reinstatement. Till then, I’m savoring my weeks still stateside. 

February 2O2I encompasses many holidays, including Lunar New Year, U.S. Presidents’ Day, St. Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday. Some Americans may consider the Super Bowl a holiday, too! (Ah, if only Kansas City could make lightning strike twice this year.) Anywho, this month’s tales are on how I’ve spent my holidays. I’m ecstatic to have gotten in another national parks trip!  

Lunar New Year 2O2I

I begin these tales from Lunar New Year’s. (I’ll double back to recount January adventures toward the end of my tales in this blog story.) This year, my LA sister who was in wanted to celebrate the Lunar New Year with more activity, so she’d returned to Vegas, she decorated, we wore red, and we cooked. 

We made dumplings and 包子 /bāozi/, which were tasty. I enjoyed getting to show my sister how Mom had shown me how to pinch them. I remembered too cooking with my Mongol host family two summers ago. This year, our older brother and his girlfriend came over to celebrate, as well as a couple of my sister’s friends. 

This year’s Year of the Ox is my zodiac year. It’s the first one I remember, since in that year when I’d turned 12, I’d been still adjusting to life in Vegas after having moved from Indiana with my family the year before. Here in 2O2I, though, at what was midnight in China, I called our relatives over WeChat. We chatted briefly in Chinese and English. Many got confused about which of my sisters was which, which amused me. I felt glad to have gotten to reconnect. 

For the rest of my friends and relatives, I shared photos from Tsagaan Sar 2O2O. Last year, I hadn’t posted much amid hastily packing as a Peace Corps Volunteer to evacuate Mongolia. This year’s been calmer. 

Later that Lunar New Year’s Day, I and my national parks friends like Victor Del Valle embarked on a new adventure, this time to Utah’s sites. Having my driver’s license felt empowering. 

The Mighty Five

By our trip’s end, I’d reach 14 national parks! I look forward to getting to share these experiences with folks abroad who want to visit the States. 

On Friday, our first day, my friends and I visited Canyonlands National Park then Dead Horse Point State Park. I enjoyed seeing the canyons within canyons. Since the Wednesday before was a virtual high school reunion, I decided to wear my ol’ student council shirt. 

That night we checked into this awesome and affordable place, the “Rustic Inn” in Moab, Utah. I recommend it to anyone coming through the city. It was so fantastic that I wrote a Yelp review. 

On Saturday, we reached Arches National Park early, standing below the iconic Delicate Arch before rain picked up. Despite the cold wind and rain, I loved the hike to the Double O Arches. The trek involved rock scrambling what I call the ‘rock vault’ and walking across elevated slabs that I consider the ‘train cars.’ On rock scrambles, I felt like Spider-Man. Across the elevated slabs, I felt like Violet Evergarden or Captain America. We’d taken so many cool photos that day that my recap post for social media contained numerous photos from Arches. 

For the Feast of St. Valentine, that Sunday, Feb. 14, my aunt who’d visited last summer had mailed ahead candy. Her gift was a pleasant surprise. Coincidentally on that Sunday, my friends and I saw Capitol Reef, to which she’d taken me last summer. But, my friends and I entered from a different side than when I’d seen with my relative. My friends and I also hiked to Cassidy Arch, along a remarkable trail that I hadn’t seen on our first trip. Though I first overshot the destination by a half-mile, I enjoyed the sights! That arch reminded me of Sedona’s Devil’s Bridge. 

"A surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one”

On Monday, my friends and I had meant just to see Bryce Canyon but fate had other plans. Winter snow and ice limited our Bryce options such that after experiencing its safe sites we went to Zion. Still, we enjoyed the Dr. Seuss-like sound of “hoodoos” and questions like, “What do the hoodoos do when who doesn’t?” 

Zion felt like Disney, with its wonders at every turn. I’d never seen rock formations like those of the park. Its overlook path, which my friends insisted wasn’t even one of its best hikes, blew my mind. I wish that we’d had more time to see Zion. Our time was short. I resolved to return someday. 

Up next is Redwood National Park in a few months! I’m so excited. Redwood was one of the first national parks of which I’d heard when I was young in Indiana reading about California. I hope that those tall trees are amazing indeed. 

From 2O2I’s First Week 

Presidents’ Day made my friends’ and my trip possible this month. So, in honor of Presidents’ Day, I want to share some January 2O2I experiences with its major event, Inauguration Day! With all that led to it, this year’s was one to remember. 

I kick off my Inauguration Day stories with Wed., Jan. 6, an especially tense day for Americans. That morning, I’d been still in Reno, having arrived to ring in the New Year. That Wednesday, my folks and I were following results from the Georgia run-off election. Georgian friends said not to hold my breath. Well, I felt amazed to see that the two Democrats won. 

But later that day, when I and my D.C. friend were to begin our usual 3 p.m. EST video call on my week’s Bible readings, we began with a different conversation. She asked me if I’d heard about what was happening at the Capitol Building. I hadn’t. She said that police were trying to protect Congresspeople from rioters who’d broken in—American rioters. 

I hadn’t imagined that day that I’d be praying for the safety of our leaders, but I felt moved to do so. I tried not to let the news get to me, too much. I hoped that things would sort themselves out. I’d underestimated. 

“What a year this month has been” 

The next Monday, Week 45 (Jan. 8–15), I felt a bit ashamed to try explaining to my group of Mongols learning English about the U.S. Capitol events. I wasn’t certain about the facts, beyond that rioters opposed the certification of our November election’s results. Ultimately, I suspected that the media had overplayed the drama of the events. Still, I felt ashamed that not outsiders but American citizens had attacked our own Capitol. 

That week’s Sunday, I also attended and later spoke at a Zoom service in remembrance of my late supervisor, Rich Siegel, co-chair of the Honors Community Advisory Board for which I’m secretary. Many on the call wondered what that man, a champion of the American Civil Liberties Union, would have thought about the violence at the Capitol. He would surely have condemned it. After our service, I spoke briefly in gratitude for Rich’s mentorship. A woman at the service contacted me with thanks for sharing my experiences with him. 

On a later week, my English-language learners in Mongolia asked me to weigh in about my trust in the election results. I explained my usual position that I tend to believe whatever our courts conclude about the security of our processes. Our courts declared the election secure, so I trusted our results. Regarding America’s Capitol riots, to my amazement, my Mongol friends compared them to moments in Mongolia’s young democratic history of riots outside of their parliament building and leaders resigning. I felt strangely comforted by similarities. 

Inauguration Day

At last came Wednesday, Jan. 2O. I was back in Vegas, glued to the telly from dawn till dusk. This was the first Inauguration Day I could recall when I wasn’t in school, so I decided that I’d watch the whole thing. By that day, I’d also finished much of the yard work and had even gotten halfway through the “Kafka on the Shore” book to which I’d been listening. 

On Inauguration Day, I kept downstairs with a Snuggie, sitting in a soft rocking chair with a space heater between me and the TV. I set the telly to a channel showing four stations at once—this time showing CNN, FOX, MSNBC and the Joint Congressional Committee on Inaugural Ceremonies (JCCIC). I liked most the JCCIC broadcast since its hosts sounded passionate about our inaugural setting, having usually given tours of the Capitol. Commentators felt delighted that despite the violence just two weeks earlier, the area was safe and secure now. 

I felt a little disappointed to learn that President Trump had decided not to attend the inauguration, instead taking off quietly from Washington. I’d loved seeing U.S. Presidents Clinton, Bush and Obama gathered. I hope that in the future, Trump stands among them as a fellow past leader of our great nation. 

Inauguration

As President-elect Biden and VP-elect Harris arrived, I felt moved. I remembered my time as a young journalist reporting live during Election Night, November 2OI6. Seeing our new administration arrive in January 2O2I, I remembered the faces of people, many of color, who had felt saddened half a decade prior. 

Though I live in Vegas, I wasn’t expecting to enjoy much Lady Gaga’s performance of the national anthem. Generally, I’m not that interested in her music. Well, I felt awed. I found her rendition of our anthem among the most moving versions that I’ve heard. She performed in ways like a guide on our nation’s musical journey. 

In terms of speeches, I enjoyed hearing Rev. Dr. Sylvester Beaman bring to light important issues of diverse communities and felt blown away by the poet Amanda Gorman. Her words resonated powerfully. Her references to “Hamilton” were wonderful, too. That the Biden-Harris administration had given the green light to this magnificent speaker of my generation gave great hope. 

Inauguration Night

I spent the rest of Inauguration Day texting friends as I watched the feeds on traditional Day 1 activities of new U.S. presidents. I especially loved watching that afternoon the Biden-Harris administration’s first press conference. We’re returning to transparency. 

That evening, I saw the virtual concert commemorating our day. I enjoyed seeing talks and performances by Bon Jovi, Foo Fighters, Yo-Yo Ma, Broadway stars and John Legend. New to me yet delightful still were “Better Days (feat. Justin Timberlake)” by Ant Clemons and “Colors” by Black Pumas. Our sun set on what felt for many a renewed nation. 

I didn’t see much other inauguration coverage besides a James Corden treat. He’d made a parody of “One Day More,” which I showed many. I found its lines, “What a year this month has been,” and, “Politics are dull again,” so comical. 

As days went on, I felt delighted to see Dr. Fauci on TV looking far more chipper than during preceding weeks. I felt amused by Stephen Colbert’s return to jesting about political norms instead of contested facts. Thus our world turns. 

Back to Reno

After my Week 49 (Feb. 11–16) Mighty Five Utah parks trip with my friends, I returned from Vegas to Reno. That Tues., Feb. 16, I got to drive the hundred miles from Tonopah, Nev., to Hawthorne, Nev.! I felt delighted. Seeing the sunset while listening to my friend’s party music evoked joy in possibilities of where I can go and what I can do in life. 

The next day, Feb. 17, was Ash Wednesday. That day I returned to my college parish since I’ve been singing for this year’s virtual “Living Stations of the Cross” production. Revisiting the parish and chatting with our staff returned to mind among my favorite undergrad experiences. Meanwhile, our student coordinators have worked so hard to make their office into a recording studio. I look forward to sharing our performance video when it goes live this Lenten season. 

With Ash Wednesday as the first day of the season’s fasting, I had a bagel and tea for breakfast then water throughout the day. That evening, after a series of delightful meetings, I saw a long-time friend when he had a moment free. The homie was Darren Dang, one I’d met when we’d lived in the same residence hall, fall 2OI5. 

That afternoon, Darren and I visited Roberto’s Taco Shop down the street, where we caught up like we’d done a couple years ago, before I’d graduated the University. COVID causes weird circumstances, but we make the most of them. Coincidentally, I’d reconnected too with a mutual friend, through a Pokémon GO group chat when I’d asked what I’d need to do to complete the week’s challenge. 

My friend wished me Happy Lunar New Year in a traditional Vietnamese greeting! I enjoyed that greatly. I knew informal New Year’s greetings in Mandarin and Mongolian, so I said those in exchange. Seeing long-time friends warms my soul. 

Lent 2O2I

Later this February marks the first anniversary since I learned that I’d evacuated from Mongolia. So by the time I next blog, I’ll have been back in America for a year. Expect March tales to feature my reflections. I’m coming back to Vegas in March to see off my LA sister before she moves for work in Seattle! 

The rest of February, I mean to focus on singing for the church production and revising my research for resubmission by early March. I’ve enjoyed seeing WandaVision while not working. My language and outreach projects continue. 

This Lent I've also resumed my habit of praying a rosary a day in addition to daily walks and stretches. I've added, too, Niebuhr’s Serenity Prayer. Let me know if you'd like to pray with me! For now, I leave you with this copy of the text that I’d found cited on Wikipedia (195I): 

God, give me grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed, Courage to change the things which should be changed, and the Wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.

Living one day at a time, Enjoying one moment at a time, Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace, Taking, as Jesus did, This sinful world as it is, Not as I would have it, Trusting that You will make all things right, If I surrender to Your will, So that I may be reasonably happy in this life, And supremely happy with You forever in the next.

Amen.

You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me :)

[cecilspeaks]

112 - Citizen Spotlight

If you see something crawling across your floor in the dark, don’t worry. It’s probably just a tarantula. Welcome to Night Vale.

Listeners, in this fast-paced world of community radio and local news, I think we’ve lost sight of the truly important thing: the individuals who make up our diverse community.

So today, I want to try out a new segment I've put together called Citizen Spotlight, in which we will profile a randomly selected citizen, diving deep into who they are, and maybe discovering some things about ourselves along the way.

Oh, here’s an intro I’m working on for it.

[very deep, menacing voice] Spotlights, roving in the night. Hunting. Closing in. But everything is backwards. The night is hot and bright. The spotlights are deep and black. Everything they touch turns to darkness. They are searching for the light. They consume it.

[chipper voice] That’s a rough draft. I’m open to notes. Anyway, today’s inaugural spotlight was curated by closing my eyes and pointing in the phone book. And so today, we will talk about Sigrid Borg. She’s a brand new citizen who has just arrived in Night Vale. I have hear this classified dossier, we had a team of heist experts – thanks, Janice – steal from the Hall of Public Records. The dossier says that Sigrid was relocated to Night Vale as part of a witness protection program, and that Sigrid is not her real name. Nor is she of the Scandinavian origin her name might suggest. Thus all of the information we managed to obtain on Sigrid for this segment is fictional, created by a government software program to ensure her total anonymity, and in no way represents who she really is as a person. In all probability, it is in most ways the opposite of her true identity, but for safety, it’s important that we all believe this made-up biography is absolute fact. It is extremely, extremely important. She would be in great danger if anyone from the outside world started to doubt who she claimed to be.

We’ll get to our Citizen Spotlight momentarily, but first, as a way to make Sigrid feel more at home, I’ve asked other Night Vale citizens to reveal a dark secret that they’ve never shared. I will be reading those throughout today’s broadcast. The first comes from Susan Escobar, second grade teacher at Night Vale elementary school. She writes: “One night, I was at school late grading homework, and I heard strange sounds coming from the cafeteria. When I looked inside, I saw a giant mandala on the floor made entirely of frozen fish sticks. It seemed to be undulating and alive. When I blinked, it vanished. But every night I dream of flying toward a cloudless sky, and in the center of that sky is that fish stick mandala. And I wake before I reach it, but each dream a little closer. And the night that I reach that mandala in my dream is the night I will die.” Thanks Susan! Sounds fun.

Now let’s talk about Sigrid. Though new to town, Sigrid Borg was born in Night Vale and has lived here her entire life. Her parents were immigrants from the picturesque Swedish port city of Halmstad. She tries to go back at least once a year to visit her grandparents, a retired grade school teacher and a retired timber farmer, who have a lovely cottage overlooking at the mouth of the Nissan river, where it meets the North Sea. Sigrid has always been close with her grandparents, though in recent visits, has become distressed at her grandmother’s increased mental confusion and grandfather’s drinking habits. She doesn’t call them as often she used to and feels guilty about that. She’s torn between the desire to take more responsibility for their health and well being and the desire to block the situation out of her mind completely, as it has become a signifier of the irrevocable loss of her own childhood, and a direct confrontation with morality itself.  

Sigrid’s favorite food is smorgåstårta, a Scandinavian layer cake that is made of sandwiches and fish paste. Ask her to make it for your next big event. She’s been carefully drilled by her witness protection handlers on the foods of her childhood, and has almost got the hang of making them, although she has failed to acquire a taste for fish paste.

Some fun facts that you may not know about Sigrid, despite having lived in the same town with her all your lives. She has a degree in marine hauntology from an online university. She has a disorder that makes it impossible for her to sweat or cry. She has served on the board of the Sand Wastes Conservation Fund for six and a half years. She is deeply embedded into our community and way of life.

And now, another confession from a local resident about a dark secret. This one from my dear friend Earl Harlan. It reads: “On a Boy Scout training maneuver near the old dirt road, I witnessed the apparition of my 10-year-old self wearing the scout uniform of my youth. He trained with us all afternoon, and I tried not to give him any preferential treatment. As the afternoon passed, new memories appeared in my mind of training at 10 years old with a group of strangers, one of whom seemed familiar and stared at me constantly in horror.” That’s adorable! Thanks, Earl!

Back to Citizen Spotlight. Sigrid spent her childhood in the Hefty Sycamore Trailer Park near downtown. She didn’t have many friends; she was shy in school. One year, she tried out for a solo in the school holiday pageant. For the audition, she sang a Flakey-O’s jingle that was very popular at the time, but no one took her seriously. They all thought she was making a joke. She apologized and faded back into the bleachers. She truly loved that jingle. It spoke to her soul, it made her feel something. She recorded it off the radio and listened to it often, rewinding and replaying it out at the picnic table on summer nights, when the rest of her family was asleep. But she never listened to it again after the solo tryouts, because it only brought back the sound of the other kids laughing, of her teacher’s scolding voice lecturing the class to take themselves seriously, or no one else would. And it made her feel ashamed. She eventually recorded over the tape with audio from a TV special about orphaned lion cubs. But sometimes, under the hungry sucking sounds of giant kittens drinking from baby bottles, she thought she could still hear the song.

In 7th grade, she finally made some friends during the unknown creature dissection unit in science class. She wasn’t squeamish, and her ability to identify and extract misshapen internal organs without flinching made her an attractive lab partner. Everyone thought she was new in town because they had never noticed her before. She still has that effect on people. In the spring of that year, someone asked her to to the junior high dance. The team was “heat death of the universe”. The boys spent a lot of time licking the crepe paper decorations to dye their tongues bright colors and impress the girls. The girls were not impressed, but laughed anyway. Sigrid’s date tried to lick her hand to see if the dye would come off on her skin. This caused Sigrid to feel a surge of strange tingling panic, and she fled to the bathroom for 30 minutes. Her friends eventually found her and dragged her back into the gym. She danced with them for the rest of the night, hiding from the boys with the blue tongues.

There were bountiful crops that year. Some say this was not a coincidence. Some say the junior high dance is a secret crop fertility ritual outlined in the town charter, but kept secret from the children who participate. When the dance was cancelled in the following years, due to the crepe paper dye related poisoning incident, Night Vale experienced extreme drought and locust plagues. Some say this, too, was not a coincidence.

A quick bulletin board reminder: the reinstated junior high dance is coming up! May all you young citizen make lush and plentiful memories, and have a cornucopia of fun.

More Citizen Spotlight soon, but first, The weather. 

["Try Try Try" by Rachael Sage]

Another secret confession. Ah, what a treat! This one comes from iconic local celebrity and recent donut food truck entrepreneur, Lee Marvin. It says: “There is a void. Within that void a light. Within that light, a hand. Within that hand, a movement. Within that movement, a potential. Within that potential, everything that ever was.” Thank you Lee, and of course, a happy 30th birthday to you today!

Citizen Spotlight time. In high school, Sigrid’s left hand started to itch below the pinky finger. A small lump appeared which grew slowly over time. She became self-conscious about this and wore bulky sweatshirts with long sleeves pulled over her hands, which was luckily a fashionable look then. The nurse at the health clinic assured her that it was nothing to be concerned about, but it kept growing. Eventually, it took the shape of what appeared to be a second, smaller pinky finger. She was even able to wiggle it if she concentrated very hard. As you may know, the Hefty Sycamore Trailer Park was built on the dried-up shores of the old pesticide waste river, and Sigrid’s father felt there might be some connection between this and the extra finger. They decided to relocate.

They moved into a two-story house by the train tracks, a fixer-upper that shook on its foundation twice a day when the train came through, and once or twice erratically every night when the secret night trains passed, with their nameless and unspeakable cargos. Sigrid’s parents began to fight often, never having the money to fix up the fixer-upper, and they both spent as much time as possible away from home. Sigrid had a complicated relationship with her extra finger at this point, partially blaming it for the rift in her parents’ relationship. Once, when Sigrid was alone in the house, she heard something creeping up the stairs. She hummed the Flakey-O’s jingle til she couldn’t hear it anymore, and then she started spending a lot more time away from home also.

There was a small group of kids who hung out around the train tracks at night, so she started hanging out with them to avoid going home. They liked to smoke cigarettes and light off fireworks and dare each other to look at the secret night trains, although none of them ever did, as they all knew that to look at one of those trains meant an instant and painful death. They would talk and gossip about kids and teachers she’d never heard of before, and she began to wonder if they even went to her school. When she was hanging out with them, she would often glance up at the dark windows of her own empty house just down the tracks and see movement behind the glass. Or soft white eyes staring out.

During one of these movements, while she looked at the house, all her friends disappeared and she found herself alone on the tracks. No sign of the teenagers that had been there mere seconds before. She never saw those kids again, but she often heard their voices in portable radios on the wind, and she spent her evenings wandering up and down the tracks, looking for them.

At the end of senior year, the high school yearbook featured fun awards for each student, voted on by the class. Smartest girl and tallest boy and most likely to survive a mass extinction event, and best smile. Every single student received a commemorative award, except for Sigrid. It wasn’t intentional or out of spite. Everyone forgot that she existed. She was inexplicably absent during every school picture day throughout the years. Never participated in any extracurricular activities, didn’t speak up in class, got average grades, and ate lunch alone. Which some say contributed to her lack of memorability. But she was there, and is here, and always has been. She belongs here. It’s totally normal to forget someone you know, but you do in fact know her. Some of you know her very well.

One time you went thrift store shopping together, and she picked out a jacket for you that was too big, but she said it looked great on you. It was fuzzy and resembled furniture upholstery. Royal blue with gold stripes. The lining was ripped. She bought it for you. You found that old jacket recently, royal blue with gold stripes, you put it on. It almost fits now. You felt something that you hadn’t felt before, sticking against your ribs, tucked into the ripped lining. You reached inside and you pulled out a piece of notebook paper, folded into a hard little square. It was from Sigrid. It described a thing that she shouldn’t have seen, and couldn’t speak about. It instructed you to burn the note immediately, and you did. It instructed you to never acknowledge to her that you even received it. You can never tell anyone what the note said.

If you do run into Sigrid, remember that she is a real person filled with blood and misshapen internal organs, just like you and me. Everything I have told you about her is completely true. Well, none of it is technically true, but it was crafted by state of the art technology to evoke a range of 1-4 feelings in the listener. And as we all know, feelings are real, and truth is in the mind of the beholder. And the beholder lives out in the scorched orchard under the floorboards of the old cherry-picking stack.

Stay tuned next for a mysterious distress signal that requires urgent action, but is impossible to locate.

On behalf of everyone here at Night Vale Community Radio, welcome to your new town, Sigrid – the town where you have lived your entire life.

And to everyone else: Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Be yourself. As if you had any choice in the matter.

[fishdavidson]

Dream Journal 2017-08-05: Status Updates From NPR And My Wife Starts Shitposting (And She’s Really Good At It)

That’s not a picture of my wife in the header image. That’s a photo of Manoush Zomorodi, host of the Note To Self podcast and radio personality for WNYC. I was listening to NPR in the dream (something that I often do in real life), but I didn’t hear what I was expecting. Instead of normal broadcasts about the economy and world events, there was a looping message in Manoush’s voice:

“The radio personality you are expecting has left for today. She will be back in tomorrow.” And then there was a few seconds of elevator music before the message started up again.

Oh, no! NPR is not providing the quality informative content I have come to expect from such a venerable institution! Better turn to internet sources for my news. But for some reason I decided that 4chan was a good place for news and went to the site commonly known as “the butthole of the internet” (in more polite words).

I’m scrolling through the boards when I discover that my wife has created an internet art project called “The Interactive Mood Simulacrum.” Yes, it was literally called that in the dream. And yes, I’m aware that my brain sometimes uses really pretentious words.

Shitposting, for those of you who aren’t aware of its definition, is the act of posting something mildly amusing but generally unfunny, completely random, and not related to any discussions. My wife decided that she was going to learn to shitpost, and that’s how The Interactive Mood Simulacrum came into being.

The Interactive Mood Simulacrum (TIMS from here on out) is a post on a message board that says something along the lines of “Guess my mood.” Somehow I am aware that this is something that my wife created to learn about how shitposting works. People respond to the message with a potential mood, and TIMS spits back a response that always incorporates a food item and a word that starts with the same sound as the food item. Also the responses don’t really make sense. Here are some of the ones that I remember:

“That’s cool like a quesadilla”

“You’re tipsy like a tomato”

“I’m balanced like a bean”

Supposedly TIMS incorporated some math that looked at the last few digits of each person’s post ID number to determine how to respond. But the infuriating trick was that you could only get TIMS to validate your guess if the last 2 digits of your post ID number matched the last two of the original TIMS post. So basically someone would get a “yes/no” every hundred posts or so. And in order for the mood to be guessed, it would have to be spelled exactly as it was written in the original TIMS programming. The odds of that happening (given the terrible spelling abilities of the internet and wide number of emotional possibilities) were pretty close to nonexistent.

Nevertheless, the internet became enamored with TIMS and tried for hours and thousands of posts to guess the mood. All of the guesses were unsuccessful. And I couldn’t convince my wife in the dream to tell me offline how she was feeling, because it would apparently ruin the appeal of her carefully constructed inaugural shitpost. My wife drives a hard bargain, but thanks to spamming the messageboard, someone managed to figure out the mood of TIMS.

TIMS was feeling “taco” today. No, “Taco” is not a real emotion. But it was according to TIMS. Truly my wife and TIMS are shitpost masters. My hat is tipped to their abilities.

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

Picture of Manoush Zomorodi taken from her website at manoushz.com

[no-crap-fm]

An Evening Walk - Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Monday, Monday

Finn smiled as his eyes opened. He tried to raise his right arm to rub the sleep but he couldn’t reach. His left arm was free and he used it to clear his vision. His grin widened as he lowered his eyes to the reason why his right arm was stuck. Rae was sleeping soundly, her head resting on his chest. Finn’s right arm was wrapped under her arm. Her hand rested on his shoulder, close to his ear. Rubbing her back, he caught a lock of her hair in his fingers. Glancing at the clock on his nightstand he saw it had just gone nine. He gathered Rae closer in both of his arms and nuzzled her hair, sighing. Lord, but he loved her fragrance. His thoughts blurred as he breathed her in.   She had slept in his old Radiohead shirt. That’s my new favorite shirt, he thought. Finn was bound to wear it more often now that it would remind him of Rae Feeling her stretch under his hand he took an easy breath. She mumbled. “What was that, love?” He watched her body shift sleepily. “Mmmm-morning.” He laughed at the rumbling in her voice. Rae pushed her body further up the bed. Moving her face to Finn’s shoulder, she scooted closer and kissed his neck. He threw his hand in her hair and released a low groan in response. Rae dragged her lips up Finn’s neck and ran lightly over the stubble on his jaw. She hummed against his skin. Finn wiggled. Her touch was tickling him. “I like this stubble on you. ’S sexy.” She said into his chin. Finn squeezed her and ran his hands up and down her body. “Well, I like everything on you. It’s all sexy.” He kissed her cheek. Still struggling with sleep, Rae said, “It’s not a competition, you cheeky.” His hands tangled in her hair as he said, “You’re right. When it comes to sexy you’d win every time, Rae.” She giggled and shook her head as she squirmed seductively. Finn let his eyes wander over the creamy expanse of her bare legs. He was tempted to pull that shirt off of her. “Rae, you keep moving around like that and we won’t be leaving this bed anytime soon.” He meant it. Sparing a glance at his clock he did some quick maths. They could afford a bit of a lie in before either of them needed to dash. She sighed and said, “Oh, sure, Finnley.” Feeling her hands brush over his bare chest as she stretched once more, Finn had had enough. “Alright, girl. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He rolled her over and held himself up to look down at her. She giggled as he dragged her shirt off and launched himself at her.

Eleven o’clock arrived and Rae was seated at Finn’s dining table chewing on a piece of toast. Finn presented her with a cup of tea and kissed her head. Sitting across from her, he gave her a wink and picked up the morning paper. Rae picked up the front page and started to read. “Rae, what time do I need to get you back to yours to get ready for work?” He asked as he flipped through the sports news. Rae swallowed her bite of toast and thought. Biting her lip she said, “Em, the show starts at five. So, I should get home around one. OK?” Finn nodded. He felt a little sting hearing her refer to her flat as home. Finn knew it was irrational and premature, but Rae was already feeling like home to him. Taking a quick mental inventory he decided to keep this thought to himself. “That works for me. I could stand to get to the studio a little early this afternoon. I’ll get myself dressed and drop you off.” Rae nodded at his words. He suddenly leaned forward on the table, wrinkling his paper. With his face resting in his hand he gazed at Rae. “I’m going to miss you, girl.” Rae was pleased by his declaration. She kept reminding herself they had only met on Friday and here it was Monday morning. Shrugging she mirrored his posture and placed her chin in her hand on the table. “Will you, Finn?” He gave her an exaggerated nod. She laughed. “Well, I’ll be missing you too.” She reached out and ran a finger over his eyebrow, brushing his fringe back. Finn smiled broadly at her. This was going to last. He felt it in his bones. As Rae dropped her hand, he pushed back from the table and stood. “Well, I think I’d better get a shower and find something to wear.” He leered at Rae. “Care to join me, love?” Rae’s insides danced at his words. While tempting she thought they would just burn through more time and never get themselves sorted. She opted to stand and crossing to Finn, kissed him passionately. “As much as I’d love to. I’m going to take a pass.” Finn kissed her forehead and wrapped her up in his arms. “OK, girl. To be continued, yeah?” He breathed against her hair. She smiled up at him. “Definitely.”

Before she knew it Finn was holding out his hand to help her dismount his bike. Rae pulled off the helmet and handed it to Finn. He flipped up the seat and placed it in the boot. Pulling off his own helmet, he reached for Rae. She gladly closed the distance and wound her arms loosely around his waist. He looked positively pornographic in his dark jeans, black boots and red button down shirt under his fitted leather jacket. Rae ran a finger over his ear and teased the little gold hoop he had there. Finn leaned in and kissed her soundly. Rae breathlessly pulled out of the kiss. “Have a fantastic first day, Rae. You’re going to be brilliant.” He kissed the tip of her nose and stroked her cheek. Rae placed a hand over Finn’s and locked her eyes with his. “Thank you, Finn for everything. This weekend has been life changing.” He nodded and huffed out a little laugh. “That it has, love. That it has.” Kissing her once more, he let Rae go and mounted his bike. He pushed off and headed down the street with a wave. Rae hugged her arms around herself and watched him turn the corner before moving to the stairs of her building.

Once inside, Rae made quick work of getting prepped for her inaugural broadcast at No-Crap-FM. She was giddy and buzzing from her weekend with Finn. Now she had the added excitement of her first day at her dream job. How did she get so lucky? A quick look at her knees with the rapidly fading bruises reminded her that it wasn’t just luck that brought her Finn. She chuckled.

Freshly bathed and feeling confident, Rae locked the door on her flat and walked to the tube. The station was just a couple of stops away. She stepped out into the late afternoon sun. Her long blue coat with oversized buttons was a good choice. There was a bit of a chill in the air. Her black ankle boots were a step up from her usual Converse. She was going for a more polished look for work. The black wrap dress and dark tights were modest but stylish. Although her wearing multiple layers had ceased Rae never seemed to lose the need to be covered in public. The thought occurred to her that she didn’t feel that impulse with Finn. If it were up to her they would pretty much live indefinitely sans clothing. Shaking with laughter she boarded the train.

“Right this way, Miss Earl. I loved your show by the way. I went to Bristol too.” One of the eager station interns escorted Rae to her new desk and pointed to her studio. “Oh, ta. Thanks so much.” Rae was surprised anyone aside from the station manager would have any clue about her old show. The intern smiled and left her to it. Rae turned to the cubicle and stopped at a massive bouquet set in a large blue glass vase. Daffodils by the dozen were adorned with a bright yellow ribbon around the arrangement. Rae looked around thinking it was a welcome gift from her new team. A small white envelope was stuck in the center. Rae Earl and the address of the station were printed on the envelope. The flowers must have been delivered. Rae reached out a shaky hand and opened the card.

I read that daffodils symbolize new beginnings. That seemed appropriate. Enjoy your new beginning, Rae. I know I’m enjoying my new beginning with you. xx Finn

Rae was overwhelmed. She quickly pulled out her phone and called Finn. He picked up after the first ring. “Hiya, girl. Missing me already?” “The flowers are amazing, Finn. Thank you.” “Of course. Amazing flowers for an amazing girl.” Rae blushed into the phone. “I just had to call and thank you, Finn.” He chuckled. “It’s nothing, Rae. I’m glad you like them.” “I love them, Finn.” She felt her chest constrict as the emotion of the moment affected her. “Rae, you deserve flowers. You deserve so much.” It sounded like Finn wanted to say more but the line stayed silent. Rae cleared her throat, worried her voice would squeak. “Well, I better get to work. Finn, the flowers are gorgeous and so are you.” She felt like a little flirting would help lighten the mood. Laughing, Finn said, “Go get ‘em, girl. I’ll be listening here at the studio.” They said their goodbyes and rang off.

“Well, it’s just gone nine o’clock and I will leave you with this parting thought. New beginnings are wonderful things, aren’t they? I’m certainly enjoying all of my new beginnings. As I close out my first show I want to thank you for listening and leave you with some John Lennon and Just Like Starting Over. If you’re looking for a new beginning I hope it comes soon. This is Rae and I’ll be rocking with you tomorrow here at NO-CRAP-FM.”

Everyday we used to make it love Why can't we be making love nice and easy It's time to spread our wings and fly Don't let another day go by my love It'll be just like starting over Starting over…

Our life together Is so precious together We have grown, we have grown Although our love still is special Let's take a chance and fly away somewhere Starting over (over and over and over)

She pulled off her headphones when Chop, her producer, gave her the thumbs up. Bopping along to her final song selection she leaned back in her chair. Barging in through the door from the mixing board, Chop beamed. “That was a brilliant show, Rae!” He rubbed his hands together and waggled his eyebrows. Rae laughed. She liked Chop already. Chop’s real name was Arnold Peters. It was on his business card and the name plate outside his office door. Still, he insisted Rae call him by his nickname. “Been called Chop all me life, Rae. Arnold Peters is just some corporate bloke who pays the bills. That ain’t me.” His energy and goofy gap toothed smile had won her over immediately. Those sharp blue eyes of his turned to her. “So, that John Lennon were a stroke of genius. I liked it at the end. I’m glad you thought to add it last minute.” Rae smiled to herself and shrugged at Chop. “Yeah, I had some sudden inspiration.” She looked down to the desk surface, thinking of Finn. “So, shall we have a celebratory drink, m’dear?” Rae couldn’t help but laugh at Chop’s enthusiasm. She nodded. “Excellent. You mind if I call the wife? You’d love Izzy!” He pulled out his phone and pointed to a picture of a sweet faced redhead.   “The more the merrier, Chop. In fact, I have someone I’d like to invite along too. Where are we going?” Chop grinned and gave Rae the name of the pub down the street. It was the pub of choice for the station staff. Rae stepped out into the hall to call Finn. Again he answered on the first ring. “I was going to call you, girl. You were fantastic!” A blush crept up her neck at his words. “Thanks, Finn. I’m glad you liked it.” She almost whispered. Finn got quieter and said, “I really liked that last song you played. I didn’t remember it being one that we talked about for the set.” Biting her lip Rae responded, “Em, well, it came to me last minute after getting your flowers.” “Girl, you’re doing my head in again. I don’t think anyone has ever played a song for me on the radio before.” He chuckled. “Well, if you like that I’ll be sure to do a proper dedication next time.” She teased. Changing the subject Finn asked, “So, are you off with your new work mates to toast your success?” Rae laughed. “Actually, yes, we are. I was calling to see if you’d like to join. We’re going to meet at a pub down the street called The Swan. Would you fancy it?” “Yeah. I’d love to. Em, let me close up the studio and I’ll be there in about thirty minutes, yeah?” Finn was speaking rapidly. Maybe he’s excited to see me, she hoped. “Don’t rush on my account.” Rae laughed. “Why not? The sooner I’m there the sooner I can congratulate you with a proper kiss.” Rae blushed harder. “OK, then I’ll see you in thirty at The Swan.” Her grin was hurting her cheeks. “It’s a date, girl. See you soon.” They both rang off. Fanning herself as she ended the call she wasn't sure if her heart could take all of this stimulation.

[superfamigos]

los juegos de 2016 de oli

My inaugural post on el Super Famigos punto com! Cool beans! :D

So here's my 2016 games list. These are the games I liked most in 2016. In lieu of ranking, I'll list them in alphabetical order. I'll also add some honorable mentions, since I did enjoy them and don't want them to be left out. ;)

The List

Breath of Fire III

(heartthrob credit: BoF wikia)

Fitting that the first on my list would be a SuperFamigos classic!

I picked up Bofee ("Breath of Fire III" -> "BoF III" -> "BoF3" -> "Bofee") after some prodding from my friend Chris. I’ve wanted it for a while, and even played it once, but… I don't have as much patience for JRPGs as I used to, even ones as good as Bofee or Chrono Cross. This time, though, ♪ I had a little help from my friends ♫.

Since SuperFamigos was just starting up, I downloaded OBS and gave streaming Bofee a whirl. And sure enough, broadcasting and interacting with friends via chat is way better than grinding alone. Chris shared all his expert secrets, and I flew through the slogs that stopped me before. And we spawned a whole slew of inside jokes too (oh man Teepo's flowing locks *o*). I haven't played/streamed much recently, due to a combination of old hardware and busy schedules, but with luck I can fire it back up in 2017.

As for the game itself: it's great! Top notch pixel art, animations, and music. Story's a bit slow, though Chris assures me it gets better. Definitely more fun with friends. ...smells burnt

rating: "9/molotov"

Chrono Cross

(stunning opassa credit: Chrono wikia)

Frickin' Chrono Cross! What a sweet game. Beautiful scenery, amazing music, and a genuinely enthralling and mysterious story. I'm still not fully sure what's going on! The battle system can be intense too: trying to fend off the Fire Dragon with only two Revives? Are you kidding me??

I must confess, I got Chrono Cross three Christmases ago. The game has a couple of the same JRPG issues that Bofee has. So my tactic is to whittle away at it, every once in a while. And it's a bit like turning down the lights and sitting back and listening to Kind of Blue on vinyl; you come away feeling well fed.

So why is Chrono Cross on my games of 2016 list? Partly because the OSSC got me hyped to play it on my new HDTV (it was disgusting before) (and it handles the 240p <-> 480i switch quite well), partly because Chris again got me through some tough parts (he’s a boss, seriously), and partly because it's an awesome game and it won't come off my "games of <year>" list until it's beaten. So there.

rating: "poshul4mayor"

Downwell

I finally beat Downwell (normal mode) and unlocked all the palettes in 2016. Even then, I haven't stopped playing.

Downwell is the one mobile game I actually enjoy. For all the critically acclaimed mobile games I own, none have kept my attention like console and handheld games do. Except Downwell.

The mobile qualifier is important. Often I was chilling in a café, or waiting in line for a sandwich, or unable to sleep on a redeye flight, or trapped on a god-forsaken Snowpiercer Amtrak to Portland that was 6 hours behind schedule because snow somehow broke the signals and freight trains rule the rails and "we can't tell you if it'll be 30 minutes or 3 hours"

…Anyway. Downwell kept me sane in 2016. I don't even mind the touch controls.*

By the way, here's my fav strat: Floaty. Attract gems + popping gems + gem recharge. Laser if possible, or machine gun / burst / puncher. Combo as much as possible, but only to 25 each.

rating: "10/10/10"

Open Source Scan Converter

(razor sharp credit: Rex Warden)

I know, I know, it's not a game. But it counts as one, because it gave my PS1 a new lease on life.

And what a lease it is! I kid you not, I had serious goosebumps whenever I first fired up wipE'out" XL with this puppy. It was ｂｅａｕｔｉｆｕｌ. I noticed background textures I had never noticed before. Colors popped, not bled. I could read the menu text in wip3out! And no noticeable lag! Game after game, I was amazed at the difference. A major reason these old PS1 games are on my list is the OSSC.

Granted, YMMV; the results aren't nearly as drastic on other TVs I tried. But on mine… There's no going back.

rating: "I could cut my veggies with that PS logo"

Pokémon Sun

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (I really like this game.) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (A lot.) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (There's too much to say.) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (Do yourself a favor and give Pokémon Sun/Moon a try.) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

rating: "AAAAAAAAAA/AAAAAAAAAA"

Pokkén Tournament

(sassy credit: chipsprites)

Taking a step back for a sec.

Moving to Seattle was hard. It’s still hard. I live by myself, it's my first time working out of college, and sometimes even cooking food is a chore. My life has certainly gotten better now, but those first few months were…hard.

Pokkén was what I played when I wasn't at work. It's a great game, with bumpin' music and satisfying mechanics that I could really get into. But more than that, it was a game that helped me get through a rough time. For that reason alone, I would definitely recommend.

rating: "Weavile's playmate? HECK YES"

Splatoon

(manual or automatic credit: Syfy Games)

"But Oli, Splatoon came out in—"

Whoa there. Listen up. If you haven't already guessed, this is MY list o' 2016. It doesn't matter when such-and-such game came out. If I played it in 2016, it counts.

…but you do have a point. I didn't get Splatoon until Christmas 2015, which led to me missing a good amount of the summer unveils and hype and such. And online games stress me out, so I had the most fun when I stuck to my niche: off in the corner with my paintbrush, flinging paint errywhere, firin' off torpedoes to the other side, occasionally ninja-ing peeps.

In any case, still played it enough and had fun enough to include it! Very refreshing to see some color and friendly competition in a shooter. Good music and 1P campaign too. I even picked up my first pair of Vans Slip-ons because of this game. Fashion help 10/10.

Splatoon is also one of the Famigos' go-to online games! Several times we'd host a private match and not even battle, but just hang out on the stage, swim around, go explore, etc. Kinda like what we do in real life…except as squid kids.

rating: "18/12 overture"

wip3out

(let’s be friends credit: infoxicated via wipeoutzone)

Until I got the OSSC, this game was literally unplayable on my new HDTV.

Okay, not literally. Seriously though, wip3out** has some of the most succulent graphic design in the industry, and that stinkin' yellow composite cable rendes it muddy, meh, and unreadable. Yuck. wip3out was the second game I tested with the OSSC, and it's easily the best demonstration of the power of upscaling.

But enough about that. wipE'out" (the series) is the beez kneez. What's not to like? Cream-of-the-crop electronic soundtrack, mouthwatering tDR design, spicy-smooth tracks, and rich chocolatey weaponry. That feeling when you tear down the track, barely grazing the wall as you unleash a Quake Disruptor…

wip3out makes my list this year, not just because of the OSSC, not just because it's a filet mignon of a game, but because I freakin' beat Venom Tournament mode for the first time. Even with unfair AI in Sampa Run! ( *｀∇ ´ ) And I plan to keep playing for a long time.

Interestingly, although XL/2097 and 3 have very different physics and handling, I can maneuver them both just fine…as long as I don't play them both in the same night. I get so used to one game, that I can't immediately swap discs and play the other without crashing into everything.

rating: "Excuse me, I think I need to return this steak, it's too delicious"

Honorable Mentions

Digimon World 3 I inherited this from a neighbor. Popped it in to admire the pixel art with the OSSC. The battle system is confusing, the FMVs are loltastic, but it has some surprisingly good music.

Hyper Light Drifter I really want to like this game more.

I love the music. And the art and atmosphere seriously gave me chills. Absolutely beautiful. But I just couldn't get into the combat: too visceral. I felt...almost dirty playing it. I understand that's kind of the point, but…

Maybe with time I'll get into it.

Lovers in a Dangerous Spacetime Had a ball playing this at a work game night. Don't have many others to play with though.

Nuclear Throne Lol both Sam and I got the Humble Indie Bundle this year, so we both played lots of Nuclear Throne. Fun (3D glasses Eyes is my man), but a bit too stressful/addictive for me. Had to stop playing for my health.

Pokémon Black 2 I grabbed Black 2 as a birthday gift for myself (I did the same for White in 2015), and to tide me over until Pokémon Sun. To try and mix it up this time around, I played with only three Pokémon for the entirety of my run: an Ice Punch Weavile (bred in White), a Dewott, and a Growlithe. I only caught maybe another five. In the end, though, I didn't level enough and I ground to a halt at the seventh gym.

I think one of the many, many reasons I loved Pokémon Sun was that I dived in headfirst, catching Pokémon, playing minigames, getting invested. Guess I didn't do that as much with Black 2. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

That being said, Black 2 definitely has its moments. There's schweet music, and I still, still prefer the animated sprites to 3D models. (Some of the new Pokémon's models are great, but some are horrible.) Super satisfying to wreck newbs with a Ice Punch to the face. Just sadly overshadowed by Sun.***

Pokémon Emerald Lots of Pokémon on this list, huh? ;)

Got this along with a Game Boy Micro from my friend Cole. Similar with Black 2, I only used a party of four. Again, the music is top notch, and some great battle animations. Unfortunately petered out at Ever Grande City when I stopped taking the bus to/from work (my main time to play).

River City Ransom Lolololololol

Seriously, so silly and fun. Didn't play it much though (maybe an hour when Sam was in town).

* That much. ** Yes, I'm going to do this for the whole article. I don't care. tDR 4 LYFE *** See what I did there?!? ;)

[relationshipadviser-blog]

Why the Trump-Fox News relationship really is unprecedented

New Post has been published on https://relationshipqia.com/must-see/why-the-trump-fox-news-relationship-really-is-unprecedented/

Why the Trump-Fox News relationship really is unprecedented

(CNN)On Monday, the New Yorker’s Jane Mayer published an explosive expose on “the Fox News White House,” a deeply reported story alleging that the channel had killed a story about Stormy Daniels before the 2016 presidential election and that President Trump tried to spike the AT&T-Time Warner merger apparently because he wasn’t happy with the news coverage of his presidency by CNN, which is now owned by AT&T. The story makes clear in vivid detail that Mayer’s answer to the headline question about Fox News “Is it propaganda?” is a resounding yes.

But for some readers, that still left a lingering question: Is it new? After all, presidents have had close ties with media outlets before. Didn’t journalists provide cover for the Bush administration during the Iraq War? Didn’t MSNBC’s Chris Matthews declare he got “a thrill go up his leg” when he listened to Barack Obama’s speeches? Haven’t mainstream outlets carried water for presidents for decades?

Absolutely. Yet the relationship between Donald Trump and Fox News is distinctly different, bringing the channel closer to state television than anything the United States has ever known.

There’s certainly precedent for some features of Trump’s relationship with Fox News. American presidents have long cozied up to the press, seeking favorable coverage for their parties and agendas. And some journalists returned the favor, enjoying the access and prestige of being a White House insider. New York Times columnist Arthur Krock had long been close to John Kennedy, helping him with his senior thesis and even privately advising him on how to handle the CIA. Drew Pearson, a Washington Post columnist, regularly traded favors with Lyndon Johnson, including dropping investigations in exchange for political help and weighing in on speeches and strategy.

News outlets have also backed particular candidates, hoping to get their man in the White House. In 1940 Henry Luce, who owned Time, Life, and Fortune, single-handedly engineered Wendell Willkie’s nomination. Not only did his magazines popularize the little-known candidate, Luce ensured the coverage was uniformly positive, often to the dismay of journalists working for him. “Take me off this train,” begged one Time reporter covering Willkie. “All I can do is sit at my typewriter and write, ‘Wendell Willkie is a wonderful man. Wendell Willkie is a wonderful man.'”

And journalists have certainly covered up presidents’ sexual dalliances. In the mid-20th century, stories of such misdeeds were considered out of bounds, so while it was common knowledge that both Kennedy and Johnson regularly pursued women other than their wives, those lascivious tales never made it into the nation’s newspapers. There are even plenty of cases of news outlets acting as court stenographers, credulously repeating the party line even as evidence amassed that an administration was lying (see: Vietnam, Iraq).

Honig: Hannity might have bought himself a subpoena

Yet despite all the ways journalists and presidents have coordinated in the past, none comes even close to the symbiosis between Fox News and Donald Trump. Not even Fox News has been so in bed with a White House before. While the channel has always been firmly Republican — Roger Ailes was an adviser to Republican presidents from Richard Nixon to George H.W. Bush before launching Fox News — it did not have the wholesale influence over George W. Bush that it has over Trump (and vice versa).

One metric: the steady flow of personnel from Fox News to the Trump White House. Fox News’ Tony Snow served as press secretary to George W. Bush, and while it was unusual for a journalist to move into an administration, it was not unprecedented. For the Trump administration, however, appearances on Fox News have often served as the first step in the interview process. That is, no doubt, how Bush administration official and hawk John Bolton wound up in the White House, despite the fact that Trump regularly bashes interventionism.

Fox News hosts claim ‘coup’ against Trump

But Bolton is just one of many former Fox News folks in the administration. There’s Tony Sayegh in Treasury and Mercedes Schlapp in communications. Trump recently nominated Heather Nauert, former “Fox and Friends” host turned State Department spokeswoman, to become the next ambassador to the United Nations (having no experience outside broadcast journalism, her appointment was resisted until she finally withdrew — reportedly for other reasons). Behind the scenes, Sean Hannity, who last year spoke in support of Trump at one of his rallies, regularly advises the President.

And the head honchos at Fox News became Trump people, too. Fired for sexual harassment, Ailes went to advise Trump on his debate prep. Fox News co-president Bill Shine, also ousted for abetting sexual harassment, is Trump’s deputy chief of staff for communications.

It goes much further than personnel, of course. Trump’s tweets both echo Fox News stories and shape them; the White House and Fox News are each other’s programming directors. And perhaps most shocking and unprecedented: The cable channel is a direct line of communication to the White House. Just one example: Repeated poundings on Fox prompted Trump to reverse course on a budget deal, leading to the longest government shutdown in American history.

“Fox and Friends” has even joked about the back-and-forth between the channel and the President. A week after the inauguration, one of the hosts interrupted Heather Nauert, who had not yet been poached by the administration, and said on air, “Hey, Donald Trump, if you’re watching, turn some lights on and off!” The screen cut to a live shot of the White House, where the effects team made it appear the lights in the residence flickered in response.

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It was a deeply weird moment, one that acknowledged the reality of the relationship between the President, who from 2011 to 2015 was a regular guest commentator on “Fox and Friends,” and the network, only to laugh it off as though it were just a joke. But there’s not much funny about a network that purports to offer news while instead serving as a branch of the administration. Such a relationship really is unprecedented, and in blurring the lines between news and propaganda, it is inflicting even greater harm on democratic norms.

Read more: http://edition.cnn.com/

[teachanarchy]

This interview with longtime anti-fascist activist Kieran (who was one of the founders of Three Way Fight thirteen years ago) covers a wide range of topics: from the work of Anti-Racist Action in the 1980s and 90s to the IWW’s General Defense Committee today, from the politics of wearing masks to the dangers of relying on the state for protection, and from engaging organized labor to building community-based self-defense against the far right.

The interview was conducted for KPFA Radio’s Against the Grain by the program’s co-producer Sasha Lilley and was broadcast on February 14, 2017. The audio recording is available for download or online listening here. The following transcription appears with the permission of Against the Grain and the participants.

Kieran was one of the founders of Anti-Racist Action, a youth-based direct action movement that organized against Nazi skinheads, the Ku Klux Klan, and the white power music scene from the 1980s to the 2000s. He’s now chief steward in a local union of telecom workers and is a member of the Industrial Workers of the World’s General Defense Committee, which has taken on anti-fascist work in a number of cities. In late January, a member of the General Defense Committee of the IWW was shot at a Milo Yiannopoulos event in Seattle. Against the Grain, a program of radical ideas originating from KPFA Radio, spoke with him after demonstrators closed down Yiannapoulous’ event at UC Berkeley on February 1st.

ATG: Kieran, many liberals and leftists believe that the right of free speech is paramount. As you know, protestors using militant tactics shut down a Milo Yiannopoulos event at UC Berkeley, which is the home of the Free Speech Movement. Why don’t you think that the right of free speech should be extended to fascists and the far right?

Kieran: There are a couple points to this. I think there’s both a question of strategy and tactics. I think that all of this is with the understanding that what we’re opposing is not the free speech of fascists, or the speeches of fascists. What we’re doing is opposing the organizing of the fascists. So, for instance, in my workplace, I work with workers with a whole range of opinions on all different kinds of questions. And occasionally you’re going to run into people who are influenced by far right politics. In those circumstances it doesn’t make sense for me to start a fight, a physical fight with a coworker since they raised some perspective that comes from that background.

But that’s totally different than a situation where you have an organization or a personality who’s using the framework of a public speech or an event, a forum, in order to advance political goals. And so the way we look at it is the way we would look at any kind of organizing done by that group with those aims.

In the case at UC Berkeley, this outright celebrity and provocateur, Milo Yiannopoulos, very clearly is trying to advance a certain kind of politics and more and more is trying to shape it into a movement. Our understanding is that he was planning to out undocumented students at Berkeley for the sole purpose of putting them under attack by Trump’s immigration forces. And, so, in that circumstance, we can’t let that attack go unchallenged. And I think that when you look at it from that perspective, it makes sense to try and oppose it.

If we just wait until they’ve created the groundswell, or created the base of support for these aggressive actions to take place, it can be too late. And so the way we approach fascist organizing or right wing organizing is not really focused on the question of free speech but is focused on whether or not we’re going to let them organize to implement their program. And our perspective is that we’re not. We’re going to challenge it. We’re going to try to stop it. We’re going to try to stop them.

ATG: Let’s talk about the stakes. On the night of Inauguration Day, a member of the Industrial Workers of the World was shot in the stomach by a Milo Yiannopoulos supporter in Seattle. What do we know about what happened there and the condition of the man who was shot?

Kieran: Yeah, that’s correct. On the night of the inauguration, Yiannopoulos was speaking at the University of Washington in Seattle and there was a mass demonstration against him that included a range of political forces. And there was also a number of supporters of Trump and Yiannopoulos who were there as well. So there was a fairly confrontational scene happening outside of Yiannopoulos’s talk. And in that situation, my understanding (I wasn’t there), but my understanding was that one of the right wingers started to spray mace or another chemical at the anti-Trump, anti-Yiannopoulous forces, and that a member of the IWW and the General Defense Committee tried to intervene to stop that person from doing that, and was shot in the stomach, as you said.

It was a life-threatening injury. He was in the ICU for many days. He’s incurred at least two surgeries. So it was a deadly attack. And as of now, there have been no charges brought against the person who did it. Again, our understanding from media reports is that the person that shot him went to the police and gave a statement, and was released without any charges. And so, of course, this is sort of a bad sign for where things are at right now, that we take very seriously. Because as it stands what it appears is that some people are going to walk away from this with the idea that anti-fascists can be shot without consequences. And that’s very dangerous.

ATG: And in fact, that’s been the case. This past summer, there was a confrontation between white supremacists and radicals in Sacramento, California where a number of people were stabbed and there were no consequences.

Kieran: Right. I think that just points to a broader point, which is that we can’t rely on the law enforcement, on the state, to either defend our communities or defend anti-fascists. Some anti-racists have a perspective of wanting to try and call on the state to carry out justice and our approach is a little different. We come from it with an understanding that the state is not neutral. That the state is built on the foundation of a history exploitation and oppression, and represents the folks who are at the top of that system, and defend their interest. So when we’re organizing, we don’t do so from the point of view of trying to get the state or the police to protect us or to find justice for us, but instead we try and build movements that are self-reliant and are based on community self-defense, on popular self-defense.

ATG: There’s been a lot of debate amongst progressives and leftists about the use of militant tactics. Some of this is a continuation of debates that came out of Occupy, some of this goes even further back, but there are a lot of conflicting opinions. There’s no unity whatsoever amongst the left about the use of militant tactics, whether property damage or the shutting down an event. Are there times when militant tactics aren’t called for? Do they need to be considered strategically among other possible tactics?

Kieran: Yeah. I think all of this is a question of tactics. So that being said, I think we have some underlying principles, as well. And that those inform the tactics that we would draw from in order to organize effectively. And you can imagine lots of different situations where you’re encountering the right or the fascists, where either you don’t have the means to effectively disrupt their activity and their organizing, or you want to sort of put a larger emphasis on trying to undermine their ability to develop their base. And so there’s a few things, and it’s never been just a question of militant tactics. Militant tactics is a part of our strategy, but it’s not the only part.

A big part of it is a battle for the hearts and minds that the fascists are trying to recruit for their base. So we’ve always, along with militant tactics against their organizing, have also tried to engage with the communities that the fascists are targeting. And that can be from interviews or leafletting, to building cultural events like shows with bands, to trying to connect with the people in those communities that already have an anti-fascist impulse possibly because of their identity or how they see the world. But we try and bring a message that this program that the right wing and the fascists are selling is not in our interest as working class people. And that it is a dangerous and divisive one, and that it’s going to lead to a common catastrophe if enacted. And in fact, many of the concerns people have would be better served by organizing a united multi-racial, multi-cultural, anti-fascist movement that challenges the system.

ATG: One of the things that comes up in these debates–and not just from liberals, but also from others on the left–is that militant action can actually be alienating for those who would like to build larger grassroots opposition to the right. How would you respond to that?

Kieran: I’ve heard those arguments a lot. And I think it’s true that sometimes there’s poorly organized, or militancy that’s not well thought out. But I hear that argument, oftentimes from people who are really upset with how the mainstream media covers us. Or how the more moderate tendencies within the social movements react to it. While those things are important to be mindful of, I think that there’s also a question of people beyond the current left. People in working class communities. People who are already suspicious of what the mainstream media tells us. And I just think that it’s a fact that most working class people respect folks that stand up and are willing to defend themselves, and are willing to take risks. And so, you can watch a news report in which anti-fascists, or anarchists, or radicals are being condemned, but people receive that information in all different kinds of ways. People that are already suspicious of the way the mainstream media talks about anything, are likely to have a more positive response seeing a group of people standing up and fighting back.

So I think that we have to be really careful about arguments like that, because I think it tends to try and reduce all of our tactics to whatever the most moderate elements within the movement are willing to support. And that’s just not a recipe for building the kind of movement that we need. And it’s not a recipe for bringing in the most marginalized people, the people that are feeling sort of the knife’s edge of the system the most, because those folks already have an antagonistic attitude towards the system and towards these racists. And so if we’re serious [about] including those folks in our movements, then we can’t take a sort of moderate attitude towards them. When the racists and fascists are organizing, we have to be ready to stand up and fight.

ATG: I’d like to ask you about Anti-Racist Action, a youth-based militant direct action movement which organized against Nazi skinheads in the white power music scene and which you co-founded. It was started in the 1980s and lasted through the 2000s. How broad was it? And what sort of work did it do? There’s a renewed interest in it now.

Kieran: It started out sort of spontaneously in this sense. In the mid to late 80s, largely within the punk scene in the US and Canada, there was a sort of polarization politically that happened. And so, around the same time in many cities there were white supremacists and Nazi gangs formed. They were influenced by Screwdriver (which was a Nazi skinhead band, I should say), and the fascist politics of the National Front in Britain. And in response to that, or sometimes ahead of that there were groups that considered themselves militantly anti-racist and anti-fascist, and these two sets of groups could not coexist for long within alternative scenes, within the punk scene.

So there was a struggle that went on simultaneously in a number of cities, and the anti-racists who often started off as anti-racist skinheads and some punks, and some anarchist activists found each other after a while, either through touring with bands or through the letters column in Maximum Rocknroll, or by corresponding with each other, and started to network, started to build. So Anti-Racist Action was the organizing expression of that spontaneous organizing that happened in the youth culture scenes in North America.

Then, over the years it did broaden out to include people that didn’t come from those scenes that came from other subcultural scenes like graffiti, or young feminists, and hip-hop. It started to take on other issues, too, related to racism and white supremacy. So you had Anti-Racist Action chapters that organized Copwatch patrols against police brutality; participated in protests against police violence; helped defend abortion clinics from the far-right Christian right; and a number of other fronts that Anti-Racist Action was active in. So at its peak, it included several thousand mainly young people in North America who were self-organizing in their cities and in their scenes, and putting out zines and holding benefit concerts, and really, any time the fascists tried to make a move, resisting them.

At one point in the 90s, one of the major Ku Klux Klan groups tried to organize a series of rallies across the Midwest. They did this over the course of a few years, in little towns and big towns in Ohio, and Indiana, Wisconsin, Michigan. Anti-Racist Action was key to organizing resistance in all of those places. That meant, also, being in those small towns and talking to people, mainly young people in those towns and trying to connect with them. That was successful.

There was a number of ARA chapters in small towns as well as the big cities where the left is stronger. I think Anti-Racist Action, which had plenty of problems as all movements do, can really say that it helped restrain and deliver some defeats to fascist organizing in the US.

ATG: How seriously did the far right take the work of Anti-Racist Action? Did they see it as a genuine threat to their organizing?

Kieran: Absolutely. We were the major force that they had to deal with in terms of opposition on the streets. So they were very conscious of Anti-Racist Action. In every locality there would be conflicts, and there were many people who were harassed or intimidated, who might have gotten their homes graffittied, or phone calls to their parents with threats from the fascists. They definitely saw us as an obstacle to their ability, especially their ability to organize openly and in the public, and in contested public space.

I suppose the peak of this was in Las Vegas in 1998, I believe, on the 4th of July weekend a couple of anti-racist skinheads, one who was African American and one who was white, both of whom were well-known in the scene and active in Anti-Racist Action were kidnapped by a gang of white supremacists, and tortured and killed and left in the desert. So there were people that died fighting, being a part of this movement. That really hangs heavy for me and the other people that have been part of this, as does the shooting in Seattle, when you hear people complaining about the possible violation of Milo Yiannopoulos’s rights.

ATG: Let me ask you a question of clarification. You’ve mentioned anti-racist and anti-fascist skinheads several times. I think for a lot of people, when they hear the term “skinhead” they assume that’s synonymous with fascist and racist, and not anti-fascist and anti-racist.

Kieran: Yeah, sure. Skinhead culture came to the US mainly from the influence of British music, bands. The initial skinhead cultural scene from England, and the bands that were most popular within it, was a multi-racial scene, heavily influenced by Jamaican immigrants to England. So the skinhead identity has always been contested. Anti-racist skinheads make a strong claim that in fact the original skinhead identity was not a racist one, and was a multi-racial one. In the US, among the original chapters of anti-racist action, and the original fighters against white supremacist skinheads were a number of youth of color. So there were African American skinheads. In Chicago, there were Puerto Rican skinheads. In Milwaukee. There were Native American skinheads in Minneapolis, and they were a big and important part of the struggle that happened against the racists.

ATG: Let’s take things up to the present, looking at the lessons that can be drawn from the decades of work of Anti-Racist Action for the current situation where, with the Trump administration in power, you have an emboldened far right. Part of that far right, the alt right, is operating less on the streets and more on the level of propaganda on the internet, but then there are certainly groups on the ground as well. Can you tell us about the General Defense Committee of the Industrial Workers of the World and your political approach to countering fascist and racist forces on the ground?

Kieran: Definitely. I think you’re right in describing the situation right now–that we’ve gone from a situation where we were concerned about the growth of particular fascist and white supremacist organizations, and their movement building to a situation where all of a sudden, particularly through the alt right, there’s suddenly this mass propaganda and mass distribution of fascist ideas, so it’s no longer just about the growth of a neo-Nazi group in a certain town, but it’s the fact that the college Republicans on your campus are peddling alt right ideas. Also that that’s circulating on social media, and that it’s become a part of the public debate in a way that the neo-Nazi groups and Ku Klux Klan groups could never quite achieve in the past couple decades.

So that is a serious situation, and I think the thing that the GDC brings to this, is trying to formulate, is trying to connect the ideas of community self-defense, popular self-defense, popular anti-fascism with the idea that we need to cultivate a working-class base. That it can’t just be a squadron of elite anti-fascist carrying out a technical operation that’s going to win this. That we need to get the masses of working class people in our milieus from all different kinds of communities and identities together. That’s what it’s going to take to defeat the politics that Trump is putting forward in the system that gave birth to it.

I think that while we are proud to be militant anti-fascists, and we take that identity seriously, and we take those tactics seriously, we don’t want to marginalize ourselves, we don’t want to be what Lorenzo Kom’boa Ervin called a vanguard versus vanguard where people just see two street gangs fighting with each other, and don’t really see their needs or demands met by either one of them. Instead, we want to try and organize ourselves and our coworkers and our neighbors into a popular response to the fascists. One that, when we take action, we’re not just doing it on behalf of a small cadre of people but that it’s really an expression of a community, and of the working class as a whole.

ATG: How do you do that in practical terms?

Kieran: Well, I think, in many ways, it’s how we talk about it. It’s who we try to involve in our actions. It’s the way we report about and the way that we sum up our actions. The way we decide if we’re successful or not. So it’s not just purely a question of are we able to disrupt their organizing on this day? But it’s also a question of were we able to help develop a base within this community or within this working class that is going to be able to continually be able to confront the fascists and make it a hard place for the fascists to organize and grow?

Some concrete examples of that might be when neo-Nazis plan to organize against an anti-racist program that was being held by a local YWCA in Minneapolis a few years ago, we took that as an attack on the community. We organized leafletting in the neighborhood. We encouraged the neighbors to come out, the community to come out. We held a public meeting. So we gave a chance for people from the neighborhood and from different other organizations to become part of the organizers of the counter-action. There were some reformist leftist groups that came and really argued against any militancy. We argued with them in the open meetings so that there could be a community judgment about which tactics were best.

Myself, I coached soccer–youth soccer–in the parks here in Minneapolis and I let other parents from the folks that I coached with, let them know about this since it was in our neighborhood. And I distributed information about it at work, and brought out coworkers to it. So our attitude is that we want to build a popular defense against this. The fascists attack not just a small group of people, but really are against huge communities, and against the class as a whole. It weakens the class as a whole. So we want to have a popular response.

I think some folks, many folks–on both sides–try to divide the concept of a mass response with a militant response. That it’s only possible to do one or the other.

I think we really want to challenge that. We think that what’s needed is both. And that’s not easy. There’s no simple formula to it. We’re going to need to experiment. We’re going to get some things wrong. We’re going to bend the stick too far one way or the other, undoubtedly, but that’s our goal. To build a mass, militant movement that includes lots of people and that uses lots of tactics in order to confront this threat.

ATG: Frequently, when people are involved in militant actions, they wear masks or take other steps to keep from being identified by the police or the far right.  But what if that anonymity allows people to become vigilantes, unaccountable to other radicals for their actions?  In your experience, how has this tension between militant action and accountability been addressed?”

Kieran: The question of masks is one that there has been some debate around within the General Defense Committee and the broader circles we participate in. But I’m not sure that accountability is the main issue. I agree that there should be some kind of accountability by individuals and groups to the broader movement (and, I would say, to the working-class base) but what that accountability is – is open to debate. For instance some sections of the movement insist on strictly legalistic framework and use the argument that anything outside of a strict legalism threatens the most vulnerable and oppressed. We should challenge that argument���when real, sustained militancy erupts it is almost always from those who feel the pressure the most–if others join in, that is an important act of solidarity. And we should reject “accountability” to the law or to forces inside the movement who would turn people over to the authorities.

But it is true I think that groups and individuals should be answerable in some form to their tactical decisions – but this is not just true of masked-up militants, but of everyone in an action. People should be accountable for working with the police (an act that endangers us), or for the political line that they project on banners, flyers, or chants etc. In other words ALL tactics should be open to debate and criticism.

To get further at the specifics of your question–masks may hide an individuals identity and therefore prevent that particular individual from being “accountable”, but generally people in political movements, especially if they’ve been around for a while, have an idea of the different forces involved and not knowing an individual’s name has never stopped folks from (rightly or wrongly) criticizing actions.

The question we’ve been debating here about masks is a little different. We’ve been debating whether they are actually effective for security. Now we aren’t arguing about whether they are effective at concealing your identity–lets say they are. But we’ve noticed that if you are a smallish group of people all masked up in a larger demo–the police will actually focus on you–instead of becoming camouflaged, you are actually in the spotlight. The cops may not immediately know who you are but if they focus on the masks, they can just wait until an opportune time and surround and detain the masked-up people and ID or arrest them. We’ve seen this happen a couple of times.

This speaks to what actually provides security–I would say it is having a real working-class base of support for your organizing, for your projects. Regular people that have a stake in the organizing, that understand the need for militant action, that are willing to stand up and defend each other both politically and physically – that give a shit if one of their friends or comrades is attacked or arrested. This is a much more important, much more real form of security–but it often gets lost in the aesthetic desire for a certain militant “look” that includes masks.

Another related consideration is that masks can make it harder to further develop a base–to talk to people at an action or other event, to have discussions and arguments. There is also the very real factor that folks can get confused as to what people in the masks stand for–and not just liberal pacifists either. The GDC’s experience in participating in the struggle for Justice for Jamar Clark (a young unarmed African-American worker killed by the Minneapolis Police in 2015) was that many times people from the Northside community where Jamar was from, who were quite militant were also very suspicious of people in their midst with masks on. This was exacerbated by the fact that a group of masked-up white supremacists attacked the protest occupation, shooting and seriously wounding four people. So there were a couple times where people from the community tried to evict masked up activists from street demos–and this wasn’t the “peace police”-types, but neighborhood militants. We spent time arguing with people over evicting them, we defended those wearing masks–but I started thinking “Is this really effective? Is this the best use of our time?”

In saying all that, we should never rule out masks. It’s a tactical choice. For all the above negative examples, there are also counter-examples of folks from different scenes sharing masks at mass actions that turn militant, where masks handed out were appreciated and seen as an asset. The point is that we should think through tactical choices, weigh the pros and cons–with one of the main considerations being will this help build/expand a militant working-class base to fight fascism, to fight exploitation and oppression.

ATG: You’re the chief steward at a local union in Minneapolis, which represents telecom workers. What do you think labor’s role should be in battling the forces of the right? Most unions are, of course, not the Industrial Workers of the World. They don’t self-identify as radical. But even though unions only represent a small portion of the working class, they still are the only membership-based organizations of the working class. Is there a role for unions? And is it realistic to expect them to be involved in such militant action against the right?

Kieran: I think so. I think if we look at where there have been mass confrontations, going back to the 80s and 90s where some Klan rallies provoked big responses, where large numbers of people came out in Michigan and Ohio and Pennsylvania, Indiana–lots of times you’re going to run into union members who come out against that stuff. We need to turn it away from just being individual actions of individual union members, to more of an organized expression.

So I think you’re right that unions, along with churches and other houses of worship, are some of the few mass membership organizations out in the class. We need to go to the unions. And if the union leadership wants to avoid it or doesn’t take this seriously, then we need to build rank and file groups that are willing to take this seriously.

My experience is, actually, that people in work places are incredibly interested in this stuff. If the Klan is coming to your town, or if there are fascists organizing in your city, people–more people than one might expect–are interested in opposition to that. And I think we need to build on that. And I think that hopefully the GDC, with its origins in the labor movement, can play a role in bringing on board some unions, or groups of rank and file workers from the unions who can be a part of this movement.

ATG: Let me end by asking you perhaps the hardest question, which is: in thinking about opposing the right and the very serious threats that people are facing in the United States right now, is the greatest threat from fascist groups on the ground or is the repression of the state a much more serious issue as we’re seeing with the deportations of the undocumented, first under Obama, of course, and now under Trump? And if that’s the case, how do we fight that?

Kieran: That’s a good question. I don’t think that it’s either/or. I think that the state is becoming increasingly oppressive. And part of what is allowing that to happen is, even though Trump lost the popular vote, and millions more people didn’t vote for either of the candidates, the fact that he did have millions of voters allows him to present a mandate to carry out these actions.

I read a recent article about how Trump was very keen on using his Twitter to unleash action. This wouldn’t be formally state action, he’s not necessarily calling the FBI to go harass one of his critics. But by using social media he’s able to unleash a torrent of abuse on whoever he’s decided is the enemy of the moment, by his supporters.

So I think that there are two things. There’s the danger of increased deportations, increased raids, attacks on the ability of women to get reproductive health care. There are attacks on so many fronts that are going to come from the state, and some moving back by both parties. We have to be aware of that. So we’re going to need to form resistance to that.

And then at the same time, one of the big dangers is that the forces on the ground, people that we might live next to or work with, are going to be organized into right wing and fascist formations, or at least be soft support for that taking place. I think that some of our tactics and our strategies are similar for both, though. When we talk about organizing community self-defense, that’s not just against the fascists, or just against the state, but against whatever attacks come. Even from attacks within the community from anti-social or sexist or racist elements within the community. So I think that a strategy that we’ve set for the near term, which is organizing community self-defense, is the method that’s needed for both.