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betweentheracks · 4 years ago

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Updates//Recent Inactivity

Hello all! This is me finally taking some time to sit down and offer up a rundown on how life is currently going as a means of explaining my inactivity. This is a personal post that is guaranteed to be both rambling and emotional so if that is not your cup of tea, I understand and happily advise you just skip over this post as it is not relevant to the actual content this blog was intended for.

EDITED: After reading this back I now realize this is really just me spilling the tea on my own life and is laughably dishy in details which is extremely not my usual stance on my personal privacy. But idk, it was cathartic so I'm leaving it as is despite the urge to redact 70% of what I say.

I'll start with the good news that I am officially out of lockdown and have remained COVID-19 free since my return home from the hospital. This also means my son finally was allowed to come home to me which is dazzling and exciting and also a little terrible too. He's at a precocious age where tantrums are the cool way to communicate and having been gone for so long completely thrashing his established routine has caused friction. He came home and his parent was not the same as when he left; is much weaker and less energetic than before, paler and shaky - but also there's the addition of my best friend having moved in to assist and take care of me/him while we all do our best to muddle through.

The readjustment has been rough and a lot of this week has made me incredibly thankful to have practically zero memory of how I was as a child. There have been injuries: I have been whacked in the face with the metal cover for a floor vent while dozing on the sofa instead of paying rapt attention to whatever silliness he was showing off to me, there was his complete dismissal of me asking him to stay back and away from the hot oven as I pulled lunch from it's fiery jaws only to then be faced with a toddler quickly approaching with his hand raised to touch so I naturally made a move to block him and in the process I let go of the oven door which slammed upward and clamped my arm tightly between it and the inside cavern of the oven while it was set to a roasty 400 degrees Fahrenheit - earning me a mangled arm with burns of varying degrees, and then we also had that fit where it seemed like a much more grand idea to scale the babygate cordoning the stairs and I had to rush up them to stop him from tumbling face first down two flights and of course did the falling all on my own and did it backwards then slammed painfully into the wall of the landing. This all happened within a 48hr time frame and makes me wonder why I am so catastrophically inclined.

I have bruises that range the majority of my spine courtesy of the wall and stairs, two minor first degree burns on my forearm that are in the shape of an equals and quite large despite the lack of actual pain I feel from them, and the underside of my forearm was instantly blistered then popped then melted down into a horrid glob of skin mush and sticky red-orange and is a second degree burn that I have been assured is no real cause for concern as long as I tend it with care. In all, I managed to escape my momjuries relatively unscathed and with a child that was scared senseless at having hurt his momma and is quick to listen and never stops cuddling me in the time since. Here's hoping he isn't significantly traumatized from this since exactly none of this is especially his fault and is due to my clumsy, accident-prone status in life.

So yes, The Toddler has returned home to me and after some happenings we have settled and are happy. However, his blast from the past father has suddenly just decided to reemerge after more than a year of radio silence and static and has slapped me with a custody petition. Hooray. While I have no worries on this matter due to my mother working for one of the top custody lawyers in the state and snagging him as my representation, and the utter lack of competency on my estranged baby daddy's end clearly being displayed in literally anything and everything the idiot does/says, I do have to now go through the overhaul of a custody case and that is just so weak and exhaustive. Not to mention the basis of his claims that I am not fit to raise a child are founded in my health concerns and the crazy work schedule I keep; ironically, my health is making it so that I have much less insane hours and makes this fairly moot but to each their own I guess. Also worth noting on this matter is that he only did this now because he was recently placed under penalty for child support back pay and nothing in this world matters to him like his money and this is his special way of getting one over on me for tampering with his meager earnings. (He's a wannabe musician - the soundcloud rapper sort, just so we are all on the same page here). If I thought for even a second this was a genuine desire to be an active and stable parent I would be a lot less pressed to act in favor of making it legally binding that he can only see him under a supervisory condition and share time evenly, but it just is not believable in the slightest.

So the thing is - my health is actually quite dismal presently. I'm due in for open heart surgery on the 8th of April and until then I have been doing my utmost to mind all the nagging I get from doctors, PT specialists, the surgeons that will be slicing and dicing me, and my in-family medical practitioner that sometimes remembers he is also my brother and not just an MD. But like, you guys, this surgery is terrifying and technically is two surgeries rolled into one. They'll be cracking my chest open and then stopping my heart while they lift it from where it sits sweetly unhinged and lopsided in my body and very finely shave away some of the excess muscle that has built up around the wall of my heart as well as some unfriendly scar tissue that has lingered since my last surgery years ago. Granted there is no accidental slip that nicks my ugly gargantuan heart and renders me as good as dead, once this first part is finished the other surgeon will need to be deft and very quick to place this ventricular assisting piece in the valve that has all but given up on functioning altogether and do so in the time remaining before the time limit for my heart being essentially unplugged from by body is up, which would also feasibly mean my death. Lots of exciting and terrible sounding consequences, am I right?

Well let's bear it in mind that I am just below 30 in age and therefore not duly experienced in the realm of facing down my own mortality via making all necessary legal arrangements and managing my affairs and assets so that, in event of my untimely death, the custody case still doesn't stand a chance of snatching my son away to the sad misfortune of being raised by a man that has stated openly he only has interest in his kids so far as what they can do for him/get for him in terms of benefit and that he would be unwilling to be hypocritical and never deter his children from drugs and a lifestyle of extremely questionable moral integrity and hygiene alike. Eugh. But I also have had to make sure there is a DNR in place just in case things go wrong during the operation, my will has also been finalized and notarized, all my savings and financial/material assets have been squared away to come into my child's inheritance when he is of age and, most importantly, a document that states clear and direct instructions for him to be placed in care of my mother or, if she is unwilling or incapable, he will be under custodial order and guardianship of my best friend whom he has always viewed as a pseudo-dad anyway. Legally binding and even in light of the paternity petition this document supersedes parental right by way of the provided evidence I have submitted to prove a lack of parental credibility. That's right, I spent days lowkey stalking and sleuthing about to capture what I needed to show this man for what he actually is and I have precisely zero guilt or shame for doing it; this is my child on the line and that means momma doesn't have to play by the rules of snitches getting stitches or whatever other scary street rules he tosses at me as idle threats. (He's done this routinely for all the years I have known him, and it is somehow both pathetic and hilarious because he knows for a fact that, if I wanted, I could throttle him in less time than it would take for him to form a rational thought between his drug soaked braincells - I was also a person of less than savory character not too long ago and can handle myself very well. But I digress because I am losing my track of thought.

After the surgery I will have so damn much PT and rehab, all of which will be specific to varying parts of my body that will need to be reworked and strengthened. Weeks, months of it really. This surgery is major and hits heavy enough that I will be in the hospital for at least 10-14 days just recovering from it without taking into consideration any number of complications that could pop up. Hell, if they get in there and find a situation worse than they currently have an understanding of in the limited capacity of cardiology tech can provide of such a gnarled beastly heart and realize they can't really do anything with it after all, I'll be added to the transplant list. I think this is more daunting to consider than the surgery, honestly.

In that way that doctors have about them, I was "comforted" by being informed that this was an inevitability and I would have been faced with this in a matter of years - less than a handful actually - but the way COVID-19 chewed through me sped it up. I'm sure my years of substance issues were also very helpful in this endeavor, but either way I still am unsure whether I feel better knowing this or not? Mostly I think I feel conflicted and hopeful tempered with the caution of life being super shady in the ways it has often brought me to the doorsteps of dying in situations that seem like odd chance. I also am gifted with being so capable in jinxing myself that I brought myself to COVID-19 ("The way life is going I'll probably square up with Rona next week or some bullshit." Positive test flagged within the following week) and also into labor ("Watch me go into labor on Labor Day since that would be the sort of universal pun that would strike my bad penny having ass." Indeed hatched my youngling on Labor Day of that year) by saying some things within the scope of my bad humor that instantly manifested as reality so I'm not taking any risks here lol.

The gist is that life is really stirring up the winds over here and so I haven't been online and posting anything that would make my blog valid in a fat minute. I do apologize for this and also for the fact that this post took me nearly a week to type up, but when things calm a little I will be back in full. For the time being I will be sporadic and do what I can when I can!

Thanks to anyone that read this mess all the way here! And a big thank you to all of you still supporting me!

#racks chats #entirely too long and too personal

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acaseforpencils · 3 years ago

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Joe Dator Shares How He Made His Book.

Bio: Hi, I’m Joe Dator. I’m a cartoonist, and a regular contributor to The New Yorker since 2006. I’m the author of “INKED: Cartoons, Confessions, Rejected Ideas and Secret Sketches.” The book is mostly a compilation of my published and unpublished cartoons, with peeks behind-the-scenes, and lots of extra fun stuff.

Tools: The first tool I used was a plastic bin. I started by going through pretty much every single piece of paper in my office that had a drawing on it. Cartoons, rough sketches, doodles, sketchbooks, you name it. Anything I thought might be fun to put into a book, I put in the bin and labeled it “BOOK.”

Then I started organizing it, putting things together in file folders. All my death cartoons in one, all my old prospector cartoons in another, and all the while in my head I was tossing around possible amusing ways this stuff could be presented.

I spent several weeks scanning all of it. I stood next to my scanner, turning the pages of my old sketchbooks and scanning every page. Once it was all in digital form, I opened a Word document and spent a couple of months writing the text that would tie it all together.

The biggest problem I ran up against was that I couldn’t keep track of everything at once in my head. Once it was all written, I needed to be able to step back and see the big picture of how it would all fit together, and be able to quickly rearrange it. Doing that on my laptop wasn’t going to cut it, so I got an enormous 36” x 48” cork bulletin board and printed out every page of my book in 25% size, and pinned them all to the board. I’m sure there must be a program that can do that virtually, but it would have taken me six more months just to learn it.

What do you wish you had known before making a book? I wish I’d known even one single thing about book publishing. It was a massive learning experience, and I started from scratch.

For one thing, I found out that what goes in the book is an editorial concern, but the cover is very much a marketing concern. The cover needed to be locked down before I finished the book, so that it could be promoted. There were about twenty people c.c.ed on every email when we were finalizing the cover, with lots of notes about what they felt they could or could not market. It was a long process, but once the cover was locked down, they pretty much let me do whatever I wanted to do on the inside.

Another thing I learned is that the book publishing schedule goes something like this: “Slow… slow… slow… slow… and NOW EVERYTHING HAS TO BE DONE YESTERDAY!” The final weeks before the book went to press were a whirlwind. I’d done a very stupid thing which is that I was laying out the pages using my rough sketches, which were going to have to be finished at some point. Once we’d locked down what would go on each page, I had about two weeks to create something like 70 finished illustrations. It was a lot of work but it was also my favorite part of the whole process.

Tips and tricks: The hardest part, as you probably suspect, was getting a publisher to say yes. There was no trick to that other than dogged persistence. It was a nearly two year long process of pitching the idea and tweaking it and pitching it again. I got a ton of “no”s, a bunch of “maybe”s and a couple of “yes.. wait, maybe.. actually no”s before the book finally found a home. If there is a tip to be found there, it’s to just keep on trying.

What did making a book teach you about yourself? Cartooning is a lonely job. On this book I had a great editor, Colleen Dunn Bates at Prospect Park Books, who I really enjoyed working with. I guess I learned that I really like the back-and-forth of working out ideas with someone else, and I would like to do more collaborative things going forward.

Where can we buy the book? This is an easy one! It’s available October 19th wherever books are sold, and you can order it now on all of the big, famous websites. But if you don’t want to support poor working conditions and unnecessary space travel, you can order from a fine indie bookstore like the Astoria Bookshop in Queens, NY. Bonus: they will even let you request a copy that is signed and personalized. By the author. Me.

Website, Etc.:

Book

Twitter

Facebook

Instagram

www.joedator.com

—

If you enjoy this blog, and would like to contribute to labor and maintenance costs, there is a Patreon, and if you’d like to buy me a cup of coffee, there is a Ko-Fi account as well! I do this blog for free because accessible arts education is important to me, and your support helps a lot! You can also find more posts about art supplies on Case’s Instagram and Twitter! Thank you!

#joe dator #how to pitch a book #how to write a book #joe dator cartoon collection

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yeojaa · 5 years ago

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TO THE MOON AND BACK - ft. ???

You feel winded and you're not sure why. Like you'd been walking on cloud nine and were now falling through the atmosphere, plummeting toward the ground at incredible speeds. When you speak, it doesn't really sound like you. "Yes." Because he was exactly right - you were a hopeless romantic. Always had been. It was hard not to be when your parents were childhood sweethearts and love was the thing you'd been chasing your whole life.

alt summary. You use your one brain cell for love. It doesn’t always end well.

pairing. who knows, honestly. the obvious ones are kim taehyung and jeon jungkook, though.

tags. blind date, strangers, strangers to friends, strangers to lovers, getting to know each other, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, romantic comedy.

rating. general (for now?)

word count. ~6000

chapter 1.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Sure, you'd signed the waiver, your favourite pen leaving a messy blue scrawl across the crisp weight. You'd acknowledged all of the terms and dated the bottom left-hand corner, humming quietly to yourself as you'd done so. You'd read the document once, then twice for good measure, politely asking for a copy of it when the petite assistant had come to take the pages off your hands.

But you still weren't sure what had brought you here, to this exact place at this exact time.

Standing in the spacious studio with a dozen hangers hung over your arms, ready to air your life for millions to see. Were you really ready for this - whatever it was?

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, suddenly nervous. Your fingers are experiencing a strange tingling sensation you only recognize from times of stress - waiting for your results after an exam, the minutes after a first date, any time your umma calls without messaging first. It's descending down the tips of your fingers, shooting like electricity through the live wire of your bones. Suddenly, every minute movement of your neck feels like it takes all the strength in the world and your chest feels like it might explode from the labour of your breaths.

"Ready?" It's the assistant again, bouncing toward you in her Fila Disrupters. Very stylish. She's staring up at you expectantly, though that shifts quickly to concern when you don't immediately respond. "... Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. I'm fine." To her relief, you answer her follow-up almost immediately, a chipper smile plastered across your face. It's a touch forced, the edges pressing your cheeks a little too far into your eyes, the tension in your jaw almost making it look like you're grimacing. Almost.

"Great! Come with me."

Your fingers fumble with the button of your jeans, missing the hole twice before a groan of frustration fills the enclosed space. You're so anxious you can feel the nervous energy filling you up like a balloon, dragging your poor body from the familiar weight of your bones. Your hands won't stop shaking and they're so cold. You can feel the chill through the denim of your pants when you rub your palms over your thighs in an effort to bring blood rushing back to them.

"Please come out when you're ready." The voice speaks over the public address system wired into the ceiling.

You glance up from your little dressing room, noting the soft yellow that now illuminates your space. It floods the walls you can barely make out over the top of your dressing stall. You notice, with some amusement, that it matches the yellow of your socks that rise above your ankles and disappear into the hem of pants.

"Relax. It'll be fun," you tell yourself before counting to three and trying your button again.

It slots into its rightful home on your first go. That must be a sign, right?

You exhale deeply, pushing all the air from your lungs as you face the mirror on the back of the door. You blink at your reflection, smoothing your fringe until it falls just right over the rim of your glasses, barely grazing your line of vision. You watch the way you chew your own lip, grateful you've got nothing but bubble-gum flavoured lip balm on, and nod. It's reminiscent of a child on their first day of school.

Then you force yourself out of the stall before you can talk yourself out of it, peeking around the corner of the door.

You're not sure what you'd been expecting but it definitely isn't this.

Because he's tall and broad, with shoulders that fall like a mountain range and a mop of dark hair. It curls over his ears and looks unkept but purposefully so, pushed behind his ears. The coat he wears fits across his back, hugging his silhouette as it falls to his knees. Plaid trousers hold his legs, cut directly above his bare ankle. He looks like a goddamn fashion model and you haven't even seen his face.

"Oh, hi." His voice is warm and heavy, like a weighted blanket or hot cocoa on Christmas Day.

It envelopes you in bass and makes your stomach flip in anticipation.

He's right across from you now, sliding into the high director's chair that sits directly opposite from where you are, half-pulled into your seat. He's as handsome as you would've imagined, the slope of his jaw and curve of his cheekbone seemingly carved by Michelangelo himself. Thin gold frames - eerily similar to yours - sit on the high bridge of his nose and behind them, eyes crinkle from the force of his big, boxy smile.

You find yourself at a loss for words for the second time in not very long, only managing a soft, "hello."

He seems to find that endearing, a soft laugh - one that very clearly echoes ha ha ha in the quiet room - drifting from where he sits. You feel your face flush, shifting through the colour wheel before landing on an embarrassingly vivid shade of magenta. You can see if in your reflection from behind his shoulder when you finally make yourself comfortable, only then meeting his open, curious stare.

"I like your pants." He gestures toward you as if he could be talking to anyone else, the diffused golden glow catching against the thin rings he wears.

"Thank you." You try not to mumble, offering a sweet albeit small smile in return. You're pleased with your choice and in turn, his compliment. You loved these jeans, had worn them for years since you'd bought them one summer in Tokyo. They hug you just right, sitting close to your waist and through your hips before relaxing into a chic 70's inspired straight flare. It doesn't matter that there's paint on the left knee - from that time you'd hosted a wine and paint night at your apartment - or that the frays on the hem are in dire need of trimming.

"Should we get started?" There he is, leading the conversation again. You feel a little bad, though that flies out the proverbial window when he's leveling you with another one of his smiles. It's hard to feel anything but child-like happiness when he looks like sunshine and middle school crushes.

You nod, turning your attention to your phone.

The screen reads START: PERCENT OF INTEREST FROM FIRST IMPRESSION. You immediately want to enter 100, your fingers moving to tap the requisite numbers before you're hesitating, hovering over the "1" as it taunts you. Was that too high? What if they showed him? Would he be turned off by how eager you were?

You're dragging your bottom lip through your teeth over and over again, stuck on a decision. Was he experiencing the same turmoil?

You steal a peek at him, hoping to be as covert as possible. He's staring straight at you, amusement written into the way his mouth twists, fighting back the laughter that sounds like music to your ears. His phone rests loosely in his right hand. Clearly, he's made his choice already.

You huff and enter 85, still not entirely happy with your decision by the time the next question pops up.

BASED ON OUTFIT 1 (SCHOOL), YOUR NAME IS _____, YOU ARE _____ YEARS OLD, AND YOU LIVE IN _____.

You had to guess his name? That was going to be impossible.

Or not, you think as his fingers glide across his screen, seemingly unfazed by the challenges currently presented. Maybe that was for the better, though. Maybe it would help you gain some sort of idea into who this stranger was, with his soft white tee shirt and expensive Hermès belt.

Even as you're filling out the answers, you can feel his eyes boring into your head like two little laser beams. You're sure that's why your cheeks are burning up and your have to retype your last answer three times, messing up the characters like you haven't spent your entire life writing them. How could he be so comfortable? His fingers aren't even twitching, instead leisurely curled between his legs as he studies you. He looks like he has nothing to hide, blinking innocently at you when you drag your gaze from his hands, his brown leather watch strap.

"Your name is Kim Nari." He's speaking seconds after you've pressed enter, alerted of the fact by the small chime of his phone. If he notices the way your brow furrows, he doesn't react, reading his answers with easy reassurance. "You're twenty-threeyears old and you live in Itaewon."

It brings you some sort of joy as you shake your head, hand raised with your thumb and forefinger curled in. "Three strikes and you're out." You laugh and then he's joining you, the sounds slotting easily together like a harmony. "My name is Cho Jiyeon." His words are forming the syllables silently, as if testing out the way it feels. You can't help but smile at that, nose scrunching as he does it again, repeating it like it's the most fascinating thing in the world. " I'm twenty-two and I live in Hongdae." You don't acknowledge the fact that he's technically right - your actual birthday is in a few days.

"I see." Your corrections are accepted as easily as he breathes. "Nice to meet you, Cho Jiyeon."

"Really, Nari?" You can't help but tease, manicured brow quirking curiously.

"You're pretty, so I thought you'd have a pretty name," he says plainly. You can't help but snort, hiding the sound behind your palms as laughter shakes your shoulders. Had he managed to compliment and insult you all at once? "You still have a pretty name."

Now it's his turn to laugh, your reaction of wild head shaking and face covering causing him to stifle his own into the back of his hand.

"It's your turn."

So it is. "Your name is Yun Taewoo and you're twenty-five?" The first two come as questions more than answers but you're almost certain of your last one. "You live in Cheongdam."

By his smirk, you're either terribly right or miserably wrong.

When his head tilts, you're reminded of a golden retriever or a teddy bear, his dark eyes twinkling at you from behind his spectacles. "My name is Kim Taehyung." You're not sure how you ever thought it would've been anything else by how well it fits him. "You're right, I'm twenty-five." Here comes the winner, you think. "And I also live in Hongdae."

Dammit dammit dammit.

Taehyung can see the disappointment in your eyes and his own are waning into crescent moons, dragged into the shape by his all-encompassing grin. "My parents live in Cheongdam, if that helps." It doesn't really, but you appreciate the effort, visibly relaxing at his concession. You've known each other for all of fifteen minutes and he's already worming his way into your silly little schoolgirl heart.

"It does. Thanks." You're giggling around your gratitude, allowing your eyes to trail pointedly at the timepiece on his wrist. It cost more than one of your semesters. "The Cartier was kind of a giveaway."

"But you recognized it," he teases back warmly.

"Touché."

"My turn again." A soft cough to clear his throat before he repeats the next question.

YOUR MAJOR IS _____, YOUR GPA IS _____, AND AT SCHOOL YOU ARE _____.

"Your major is art, your GPA is 3.1, and at school, you're an outsider."

You're not sure whether to be offended that you're seemingly so easy to read, a hand flying to your throat. "Are you following me?" You're asking before you can help it, earning a hearty laugh from Taehyung. He's shaking his head, awfully proud that he's just struck the nail on the head. "I'm actually doing a double major, so I'll give you that. My GPA is actually 3.9, though." You can't help your own pride from sneaking in, colouring your words in shades of gold as you beam. It only falters when you consider his last guess. "What makes you think I'm an outsider?"

Not that he was wrong, per se, but you're a little surprised. You'd never been unpopular but you just kept to yourself, drifting from different friend groups as you saw fit.

"You don't want to forced into a box, so you're an outsider. You choose to be."

You have no answer for that so you instead engage in a peculiar staring match until your eyes burn and you're blinking rapidly.

"Your major was business, your GPA was 3.5, and you were a total insider." Maybe it's the fact that he figured you out so easily that you feel uncertain about your own answers.

He shakes his head, ever the gentleman. "No, sorry. I was a fashion major and my GPA was 3.0." He pauses thoughtfully, considering the implications of being an inssa. He supposes you're right, though he'd never really thought of himself as one. Just someone that was well-liked and never turned away. "Good try, though." Again, encouragement. It makes you like him for more than his charming smile and fashion-sense.

"I'll get you next time."

"I'm sure you will," he returns without even a hint of sarcasm. "Next outfit?"

You nod, slipping from your seat and all but skipping into your dressing stall. As you disappear back inside, you catch his smile in the reflection of your door and bite back your own.

The nerves that had melted over the course of your conversation seem to have come back in full force, spreading warmth over your cheeks as you stare at yourself in the mirror. You've smoothed your hands over the soft corduroy of your skirt at least ten times now, straightening the hem this way and that in the pursuit of getting it to sit just right over your thighs.

"Just go back outside. He's nice. Stop freaking out." The reprimands are filling the small space and you feel almost overwhelmed. Outfit number two was supposed to be a date outfit and just the word had your hands clamming out, heat licking up the back of your neck.

It's not that you weren't used to dating - he was just really cute.

Adjusting the collar of your turtleneck - soft, black, draped in all the right places and tucked neatly into the waist of your skirt - you nod again. It's your little way of building yourself up before you're stepping back outside, arms sliding into the sleeves of your grey tartan blazer. You look good. Taehyung had even said so. You could do this.

No, no, no. You can't do this. Not when he looks like that.

He's beat you to his seat, an Adonis in black. Gone is the loose white shirt from earlier, replaced now by an inky top that sinks against his skin. The collar is open, the top two buttons undone to reveal the honeyed expanse of his chest. You're not sure whether you want to bury your face into it or his silky shirt and it takes you a moment to remind yourself that's terribly inappropriate.

"I like this look," you offer, hardly able to tear your eyes away from him as you settle back into your chair. You can't help but notice how he smiles, gloating like he's all too aware of his effect on you. He even readjusts, opening his arms to you as if to urge you on, when you continue to inspect his clothes.

The pants he wears are different now, an expensive textured fabric that hugs his thighs and drapes across his shins, falling just above his ankle like before. There's no visible sock line and his shoes - black calfskin loafers with little tassels across the tops - scream expensive. You'd hazard a guess they're Saint Laurent or Prada. The only thing carried over from his last outfit is his watch, now stacked with delicate silver chains and a single red yarn bracelet you'd noticed earlier. Even his hair is different, effortlessly styled and sweeping across his brow in soft, easy waves that beg to be touched.

"I like yours, too," he coos, that smug expression never faltering. You try not to blush beneath his stare, trapping your hands beneath your legs as you allow him the same courtesy.

Your thigh high socks sit just beneath where your palms rest, black a stark contrast to your skin and the brown of your skirt. Your toes wiggle experimentally in the boots you're wearing, the ever popular sock-style blending seamlessly with the material of your stockings. You can feel the lines of your rings where your skin is exposed, the same silver resting at the small of your throat in layered necklaces and at your ears in intricate loops.

He can't help but linger when the light catches the metal of your jewelry or when you shift nervously, thighs pressing together. More than a small part of him enjoys you squirming under his gaze. It's coquettish, even if it isn't meant to be.

"Do you want to go first?" The words break whatever spell you'd been under and you re-focus on the device in your lap. You nod before you've read the question thoroughly, flushing once you've had a chance to do so.

BASED ON OUTFIT 2 (DATE), YOU'VE RECEIVED _____ ROMANTIC CONFESSIONS AND HAVE BEEN IN A RELATIONSHIP _____ TIMES.

They really didn't beat around the bush, did they?

You're tapping out your response, pushing forward when you stop to think. It was just two numbers.

When the familiar ding of your phones breaks the relative silence, you look back up. Of course, he's already watching you, ever the active participant. "You, Kim Taehyung, have received more than twenty romantic confessions and you've been in a relationship more than ten times."

Something like surprises steals across his face, contorting his expression into one you hadn't seen yet.

"Wrong." There's no further elaboration and for a moment, you have the urge to apologize. Had you offended him? "I've received more than twenty romantic confessions but I've only been in a relationship twice."

Now it's your turn to be surprised, your eyebrows disappearing into your hairline. How did someone look like that and not date? It seemed like such a waste.

"Shocking, right?" Taehyung takes the words right out of your mouth but they feel wrong when uttered back at you. "Both relationships were long-term. Five and four years, respectively, so I never really had time to date anyone else." A hand adorned in Gucci rings cards through his silky mop of hair, smoothing it away from his forehead before it falls back into place perfectly. "Don't worry - I'm not offended you think I'm such a Casanova."

You can't help but scowl at his words. He's right and you're being called out so hard.

"You've probably had more than ten confessions and..." You're not sure whether he's really trying to remember what he'd written or if he's just drawing it out, teasing you mercilessly like its his newly discovered favourite pastime. "Five boyfriends?"

"Ah - you got those right!" You're not bothered by his accurate guesses this time. In fact, you clap as if his success somehow belongs to both of you. He finds that endearing. He likes the idea of the two of you as a team.

"Next one? Go ahead."

You double check your next answer, trying not to laugh when you remember what you'd entered.

YOU FEEL ATTRACTED TO SOMEONE WHO IS _____. YOU ARE ACTIVE/PASSIVE DURING THE DAY AND ACTIVE/PASSIVE AT NIGHT.

"Kim Taehyung," you meet his eyes when you say his name and for a second, you lose your train of thought. His lashes are so thick and dark and without his glasses on, you swear you can see the constellations in his irises. "Um." He snickers and you roll your eyes, rereading the small font on your device screen. "You are attracted to someone who shares your confidence and who will rise to challenges with you. You're active during the day and..." You don't dare look up. "You're also active during the night."

To your benefit, you both collapse into laughter, doubled over in your chairs as the double entendre sits salaciously between you.

"You're not wrong," he drawls, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at you. If you were closer, you think you'd swat his arm or nudge his foot - anything to demonstrate that you think he's an absolute dork. "I want someone who can be my partner in crime and I'm active all the time." He leans heavily into the implication, dragging the "ah" in all out like he's trying to break it over his tongue.

"Okay, Casanova. Your turn."

He hums, not even bothering to look at his screen as he studies you, eyes ticking from the way your long, dark hair cascades over your shoulder to the wine-stain you'd pressed into your full lips. "You're attracted to someone who excites you and makes you feel wanted." By the way he's drinking you in, you think he could be talking about himself. "You're active in the day and passive at night."

When he says passive, it almost feels wrong. Dirty. Like it should be whispered into the shell of your ear and not spoken so casually from three feet away.

You have to remind yourself you're sitting in a studio, surrounded by production staff.

"I do like to sleep a lot." You manage once the flutter in your chest has subsided, allowing you to find your breath again. It still feels a little airy, a little like the wings of butterflies are tugging the words out of your chest. "But I think everyone wants to be desired, don't you? I don't think that's specific to me."

"Then why don't you tell me what kind of person you're attracted to?" He doesn't say it but you hear it in his voice - the unspoken question. Is it me?

You're not ready for that conversation, nor do you think this is the place to have it. "I think we should change."

The third time you exit your dressing stall, you're out before Taehyung is, giving you a moment's reprieve as you climb into your chair.

You're more comfortable than you have been, both mentally and physically, but it's nice to have these few extra moments of peace. He was just so much - it was hard to focus when he caught your stare or he did that thing with his tongue, pink gliding across his bottom lip. You were ready to take back some control. Hopefully his daily outfit was as casual as yours. You didn't think you could handle another peek of that chiseled frame.

God, when had you become so easy to please?

"That was quick." He's popping his head out of his room and gliding into his seat in what feels like one fluid motion. Well, he certainly seems spirited.

"What can I say? I'm fast." It's enough to make him chuckle because very clearly, you were not fast, but he wasn't about to call you on that. Not when you two were getting along so swimmingly. "Shall we get started?"

You don't even wait for his response before you're studying your phone again, considering the two latest questions.

BASED ON OUTFIT 3 (DAILY), WHAT YOU HEAR OFTEN FROM YOUR FRIENDS IS _____ AND WHAT YOU HEAR FROM YOUR PARENTS IS _____?

That was easy enough, you think, free hand fiddling with the pocket on your thigh. The cargo pants you wear sit easily on your hips, the beige material matching the seat. You're back in sneakers - all-white Converse with a small platform - and your glasses are perched on the bridge of your nose. You're aware of a draft on your shoulder, the soft wool of your camel and blush cardigan having drifted low across your shoulder.

You fill out your answer with ease, sparing Taehyung a glance when you're finished and realizing, much to your surprise, he's still typing.

"You can go first, when you're done."

The only indication he's heard you is the bob of his head so you take his preoccupation as time to admire his latest fashion choices.

Wide-legged trousers that look extremely comfortable, falling easily over backless Gucci loafers. His shirt is French-tucked, the drape of his taupe top relaxed. The watch remains where it has been, though the other jewelry that had previously accompanied it is gone. He's got a chic black beret pulled over his ears, causing strands at the nape of his neck to curl adorably. He looks every inch an off-duty model and you have to remind yourself to stop gawking when he begins speaking.

"What you hear most from your friends is 'don't forget' and what you hear most from your parents is 'did you eat?'"

You think his streak must be running out and he sees that reflected in your goofy smile, one of his own framing his face. "Nope. My friends say 'get some sleep' and my parents ask 'how is school?' Good try."

He shrugs, mouthing something like 'you win some, you lose some' before sliding his phone back into his pocket. "Go ahead."

"What Kim Taehyung hears the most from his friends is 'I can't believe it' and what he hears most from his parents is 'visit more often.'" You'd been reading your screen, lifting the words verbatim, so when you look up and catch his expression, you're startled. For the first time, Taehyung looks unsure, though it lasts only a fraction of a second before he's nodding, his sweet laughter sinking into your molars like honeycomb and cavities.

"Close enough. My friends usually say something like 'you're kidding me' but you're right about my parents."

Maybe that's why he looked so sad, you realize with a little twinge of guilt. You consider asking a follow-up but by the way he pulls his phone out, you know it's a conversation better left for another time. Like perhaps a second date.

YOUR ALCOHOL LIMIT IS _____ AND YOU SMOKE _____ A DAY.

He's already reading his answer to the second question by the time you tune in fully.

"Cho Jiyeon, your alcohol limit is two bottes of soju and you don't smoke." You wouldn't say he's exactly right but you relent, nodding in agreement.

"Between two and four, depending on the day." There's a story there and it intrigues him but he says nothing, instead waiting for your appraisal of his tolerance. He's ready to completely blow your mind. "Your limit is... four bottles? You definitely don't smoke."

It's with pride that Taehyung shakes his head, chest puffed out and lips pursed. "My tolerance is one - one shot." He can't help but laugh when you level him with disbelief. "I don't like the taste," he continues, completely unashamed. He's dealt with enough teasing from his closest friends so he's used to the incredulous stare you're currently giving him, unfazed as he beams at you.

"I never would've guessed," you quip, thoughtful.

"I'm full of surprises."

You think it's a promise, like the guarantee of buried treasure or calm in the eye of the storm. "I'm sure you are."

Your final change makes you feel like you're at home, despite the fact that you're nowhere close to it. It's nice to be in your pyjamas in the middle of the day, even if you didn't normally wear the set that currently sits on your body.

"Last one," you say to yourself, peering closely at your hair, your lips, the way your shorts feel a little shorter than usual.

Then you pull yourself out for the last time and plop yourself into your chair, smiling brightly at Taehyung when he exits in the same instant as you.

He's in silk pyjama bottoms, the navy a stark contrast against his feet - which are slotted into soft shearling slippers. The top looks oddly familiar, the white stirring a memory that you're not sure how to place. "Hey - I recognize this," you state uncertainly, gesticulating at his broad chest. He looks down and a smile so shy your heart could cry spreads across his face. Maybe you're wrong but it looks like the tips of his ears are suddenly red beneath his crown of softly mused strands.

"I don't normally sleep with a shirt on," he confesses, delicate fingers brushing the shoulder of his top. He's not quite meeting your eyes, that seem dusting of rouge seeping over his hollowed cheeks and across his temples.

"Oh," is all you can say, just as bashful.

As if to ease the unusual weight that's settled over the two of you, he speaks again, earnest. "I like your sweater."

You pick at the item in question, thumbing over the worn hem. It's incredibly soft from years of wear, a gift from your father when he'd visited for business years ago. The formerly vivid stitching on the first letter is starting to come undone, the remaining letters of HARVARD all in equal states of distress. Still, it's comforting and oversized, drowning you in its shape and making you look more diminutive than your lissome stature already does.

A leg draws up, about to pull to your chest, but then you think better of it. You're in shorts - worn jersey ones taken from a matching pyjama set you'd once gotten as a birthday gift - and you're reminded of how little they'd covered when standing, so you settle for crossing your ankles. The bears printed on your socks - three stacked at various levels across the top of your foot, your ankle, your calf - cross as well.

"Thanks."

"Do you want to go first this time?"

It's nice that he's so considerate. You nod, turning your attention to the last few questions. You realize, with the smallest hint of disappointment, that there are only two left.

BASED ON OUTFIT 4 (PYJAMAS), YOU WANT TO LIVE UNTIL _____ YEARS OLD. THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN YOUR LIFE IS _____.

You're not sure whether it's the fact that your time with him is coming to an end or the questions themselves but you feel odd, a lump forming in your stomach. Whatever it is, you try to push it from your thoughts, ignoring the weight it carries in favour of giving further consideration to your answers.

"I think you want to live until ninety years old." That made sense, right? Most people wanted to live out there lives as long as they could, watching the generations span after them and basking in the pride of a life-well lived. "The most important thing in your life is growth." Okay, so maybe that was a bit of a stretch. Could you really know someone that well after only such a short period with them?

You think so, because after everything so far, you felt like you did.

"Ninety would be nice," he agrees after a moment, biting his bottom lip as he weighs his next words. "The most important thing in my life is being true to myself." So you were wrong - but that was also a really deep question. You feel like it's not fair and he can clearly see that when he grins, gracious and giving. "I think growth means staying honest to myself, though."

You think you could kiss him and absorb some of that sunny goodness.

"You want to live until you're ninety, too." A small part of you doubts he'd use the same age, that suspicion deepening when he doesn't even bother looking at his written answers. "The most important thing in Cho Jiyeon's life is love. Am I right?"

The reason you'd even agreed to appear on this silly video segment.

"What about age?" He prompts, not skipping a beat.

"I don't know," you answer honestly. "I don't think I'd mind when I died if I found love before that."

You're not sure whether the look Taehyung gives you is affectionate or pitying because you're not really looking at him, instead focused pointedly on the paint that coats your nails and the way your knuckles flex beneath your ministrations.

"Last one," he chirps, snapping you from your careful consideration of your own humanity.

You don't answer, instead rereading the last answer you'd filled out.

IF WE WERE LOVERS WHO BROKE UP, WE WOULD HAVE DATED BECAUSE OF _____ AND BROKEN UP BECAUSE OF _____.

It felt a little too close to home and yet, you were in the home stretch. You'd be held here in this little piece of forever until you answered.

He begins before you get a chance to, impossibly softer than he'd been previously. "If we were lovers who broke up, we would have dated because you felt like my other half." You have to remind yourself that it's all hypothetical but his voice is so alluring, like a lullaby you'd like to slip into dreamland listening to. Even the way he details your imaginary breakup is beguiling, low timbre hitting some chord in your heart you weren't aware existed. "We would have broken up because you'd always be chasing a vision of me - and not the real me."

Emotion wells in your chest and in your throat and behind your eyes and you have to swallow thickly, forcing the onslaught down before you're crying in front of the cameras and making a fool of yourself.

You'd written something silly but as you prepare to answer the same question, it feels far too inconsequential, like a child playing dress-up.

"If we were lovers, we would have dated because I was your muse." His mouth quirks at that, though you can't see from the way you're staring at your hands still and it's short-lived. "We would have broken up because I couldn't keep up with you." It's not what you'd originally opted for but it feels better. Right. Like it could be true, in some fantasy world where people like him ended up with people like you.

Silence drags on once you've finished speaking. You could hear a pin drop - and think you do. It might just be someone's pen slipping from their hand.

Your eyes meet, like kismet, after what feels like forever. He smiles and you can imagine that same, sad thing mirrored in your own expression.

"Please give us your percent of interest based on your final impression." The public address system again, tearing your little illusion to shreds. He's a stranger again, someone you've only met for the purpose of this YouTube video.

You glance down at your phone and without thinking, press that frightful "1" followed by two 0's. You see him enter his score.

And then the lights are fading from a rosy glow, replaced by the standard professional lighting. The curtains have closed and the production assistants are milling over, thanking you for your time and advising of when you might expect to see the video up. You're barely listening.

Because Taehyung's already gone.

notes. i've never written this much in one sitting. i hope you enjoy it! as always, feedback appreciated.

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montagnarde1793 · 5 years ago

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Ribbons of Scarlet: A predictably terrible novel on the French Revolution (part 1)

Parts 2, 3, 4 and 5.

Q: Why is this post in English? Isn’t this blog usually in French?

A: Yes, but I can’t bypass the chance, however small, that someone in the book’s target audience might see and benefit from what I’m about to say.

Q: Why did you even read this book? Don’t you usually avoid bad French Revolution media?

A: My aunt left the book with me when she came for my defense last November. I could already tell it would be pretty awful and might not have read it except that I needed something that didn’t require too much concentration at the height of the Covid haze and I — like most people who insisted on finishing their doctorate despite the abysmal academic job market — have a problem with the sunk cost fallacy, so once I got started I figured I might as well find out just how bad it got.

Q: Don’t you have papers to grade?

A: … Next question.

Q: Aren’t you stepping out of your lane as an historian by reviewing historical fiction? You understand that it wasn’t intended for you, right?

A: First of all, this is my blog, such as it is, and I do what I want. Even to the point of self-indulgence. Why else have a blog? Also, I did receive encouragement. XD;

Second, while a lot of historians I respect consider that anything goes as long as it’s fiction and some even seem to think it’s beneath their dignity to acknowledge its existence, given the influence fiction has on people’s worldview I think they’re mistaken. Besides, this is the internet and no one here has any dignity to lose.

Finally, this is not so much a review in the classic sense as a case study and a critical analysis of what went wrong here that a specialist is uniquely qualified to make, not because historians are the target audience, but because the target audience might get the impression that it’s not very good without being able to articulate why. To quote an old Lindsay Ellis video, “It’s not bad because it’s wrong, it’s bad because it sucks. But it sucks because it’s wrong.” Or, if you prefer, relying on lazy clichés and adopting or embellishing every lurid anecdote you come across is bound to come across as artificial, amateurish and unconvincing.

This is especially offensive when you make grandiose claims about your novel’s feminist message and the “time and care” you supposedly put into your research.

I also admit to having something of a morbid fascination with liberals creating reactionary media without realizing it, which this is also a textbook example of (if someone were to write a textbook on the subject, which they probably should).

With that out of the way, what even is this book?

The Basics

It’s a collaboration between six historical novelists attempting to recount the French Revolution from the point of view of seven of its female participants. One of these novelists is in fact an historian herself, which is a little bit distressing, given that like her co-authors, she seems to consider people like G. Lenotre reliable sources. But then, she’s an Americanist and I’ve seen Americanists publish all kinds of laughable things about the French Revolution in actual serious works of non-fiction without getting called out because their work is only ever reviewed by other Americanists. So.

Anyway, if you’re familiar with Marge Piercy’s (far superior, though not without its flaws) City of Darkness, City of Light, you might think, “ok, so it’s that with more women.” And you might think that that’s not so bad of an idea; Marge Piercy maybe didn’t go all the way with her feminist concept by making half the point of view characters men (though I’d argue that the way she frames how they view women was part of the point). It’s even conceivable that if Piercy had wanted to make all the protagonists women her publisher would have said no on the grounds of there not being a general audience for that. It was the 1990s, after all.

Except the conceit this time is they’re all by different authors, we have some counterrevolutionaries in the mix, and instead of the POV chapters interweaving, each character gets her own chunk of the novel, generally about 70-80 pages worth, although there are a couple of notable exceptions. We’ll get to those.

It’s accordingly divided as follows:

· Part I. The Philosopher, by Stephanie Dray, from the point of view of salonnière, translator, miniaturist and wife of Condorcet, Sophie de Grouchy, “Spring 1786” to “Spring 1789”; Sophie de Grouchy also gets an epilogue, set in 1804

· Part II. The Revolutionary, by Heather Webb, from the point of view of Reine Audu, Parisian fruit seller who participated in the march on Versailles and the storming of the Tuileries, 27 June-5 October 1789

· Part III. The Princess, by Sophie Perinot, from the point of view of Louis XVI’s sister Élisabeth, May 1791-20 June 1792

· Part IV. The Politician, by Kate Quinn, from the point of view of Manon Roland, wife of the Brissotin Minister of the Interior known for writing her husband’s speeches and for her own memoirs, August 1792-(Fall 1793 — no date is given, but it ends with her still in prison)

· Part V. The Assassin, by E. Knight, which is split between the POV of Charlotte Corday, the eponymous assassin of Marat, and that of Pauline Léon, chocolate seller and leader of the Société des Républicaines révolutionnaires, 7 July-8 November 1793

· Part VI. The Beauty, by Laura Kamoie, from the point of view of Émilie de Sainte-Amaranthe, a young aristocrat who ran a gambling den and who got mixed up in the “red shirt” affair and was executed in Prarial Year II, “March 1794”-“17 June 1794”

An *Interesting* Choice of Characters…

Now, there are some obvious red flags in the line-up. I’m not sure, if you were to ask me to come up with a list of women of the French Revolution I would come up with one where 4/7 of the characters are nobles/royals — a highly underrepresented POV, as I’m sure you’re all aware — but fine. Sophie de Grouchy is an interesting perspective to include and Mme Élisabeth at least makes a change from Antoinette? And though the execution is among the worst (no pun intended) Charlotte Corday’s inclusion makes sense as she is famous for doing one of the only things a lay audience has unfortunately heard of in association with the Revolution.

Reine Audu is actually an excellent choice, both pertinent and original. Credit where credit is due. Manon Roland and Pauline Léon are not bad choices either in theory, but given the overlap with Marge Piercy’s book, if you’re going to do a worse job, why bother? The inclusion of Sophie de Grouchy, while, again, not a bad choice, also kind of makes this comparison inevitable, as another of Piercy’s POV characters was Condorcet.

But Émilie de Sainte-Amaranthe? I’m not saying you couldn’t write an historically grounded and plausible text from her point of view, but her inclusion was an early tip-off that this was going to be a book that makes lurid and probably apocryphal anecdotes its bread and butter.

The absolute worst choice was to make Pauline Léon only exist — at best — as a foil to Charlotte Corday. (It turns out to be worse than that, actually. She’s less of a foil than a faire-valoir.)

Still, why does no one write a novel about Simone and Catherine Évrard (poor Simone is reduced to “Marat’s mistress” here, not just by Charlotte Corday, which is understandable, but also by Pauline Léon) or Louise Kéralio or the Fernig sisters or Nanine Vallain or Rosalie Jullien or Jeanne Odo or hell, why not one of the dozens of less famous women who voted on the constitution of 1793 or joined the army or petitioned the Convention or taught in the new public schools. Many of them aren’t as well-documented, but isn’t that what fiction is for?

Let’s try to be nice for a minute

There are things that work about this book and while the result is pretty bad, I think the authors’ intentions were good. Like, who could object to the dedication, in the abstract?

This novel is dedicated to the women who fight, to the women who stand on principle. It is an homage to the women who refuse to back down even in the face of repression, slander, and death. History is replete with you, even if we are not taught that, and the present moment is full of you—brave, determined, and laudable.

It’s how they go about trying to illustrate it that’s the problem, and we’ll get to that.

For now, let me reiterate that while I’m not a fan of the “all perspectives are equally valid” school of history or fiction — or its variant, “all *women*’s perspectives are equally valid” — and there are other characters I would have chosen first, it absolutely would have been possible to write something good with this cast of characters (minus making Charlotte Corday and Pauline Léon share a section).

The parts where the characters deal with their interpersonal relationships and grapple with misogyny are mostly fine — I say mostly, because as we’ll see, the political slant given to that misogyny is not without its problems. These are the parts that are obviously based on the authors’ personal experience and as such they ring true, if not always to an 18th century mentality, at least to that lived experience.

Finally, there are occasionally notes that are hit just fine from an historical perspective as well. The author of the section on Mme Élisabeth doesn’t shy away from making her a persistent advocate of violently repressing the Revolution. Manon Roland corresponds pretty well to the picture that emerges from her memoirs even if the author of her section does seem to agree with her that she was the voice of reason to the point of giving her “reasonable” opinions she didn’t actually hold.

I should also note that while the literary quality is not great, it’s not trying to be great literature and in any case, on that point at least, I’m not sure I could do better.

Ok, that’s enough being nice. Tune in next time for all the things that don’t work.

#en anglais #French Revolution #Révolution française

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dustedmagazine · 4 years ago

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Bill Meyer: Lockdown pickers 2020

You don’t need me to tell you that it’s been a hell of a year. The pile-on of environmental disaster, the COVID pandemic, people being blasted with teargas for having the temerity to suggest that living while Black shouldn’t be a shooting offense, 70 million-odd Americans endorsing and abetting buffoonish fascism, and the virtual evaporation of live music — and that’s just off the top of my head.

Still, 2020 has been a great year for recorded music. Working from home and not going out at night has meant more time to play it, and while the supply and production chains have been undeniably wonky (oh yeah, I forgot to mention our departing president’s efforts to drown the US Postal Service in the bathtub and the Apollo Masters factory fire; really, fuck you, 2020), a lot of good records have made it into my house. The year has also yielded creative musical responses by creative music makers to the loss of live performances. Chicago Experimental Sound Studio provided a platform for The Quarantine Concerts, a series of live-streaming and prepared video performances that took us into performers’ homes, basements, back yards and pottery studios (I’m talking about you, Terrie Ex). No, live-streaming is not the same as attending a concert. The experience of community and shared space can’t reach you through a screen. But hearing Joe McPhee send a shout-out from his basement Batcave to Peter Brötzmann, seeing Arto Lindsay struggle with the orientation lock on his phone and getting drawn into the layered environment that Olivia Block created with film projections, played sounds and no help from an intruding cat delivered some of the same authenticity, disaster and wonder that concerts at their best can provide. And if you have had the chance to attend some concerts since March (I’ve seen three; two appearances by improvising ensembles involving Dave Rempis in a park on Chicago’s north side, and an all-outdoor edition of the Hyde Park Jazz Festival on the south side), you probably already know that live music events aren’t the same, either. The feelings of communal trust and safety, the internal shift that says “yup, this is where I’m supposed to be,” is gone. We have a lot to recapture and rebuild once the pandemic passes.

The sales and streaming platform, Bandcamp, became a hero simply by virtue of simply treating musicians like people who need a hand rather resources to be sucked dry and discarded. The monthly Bandcamp Fridays, when the company refrained from taking its cut and passed that percentage along to the artists and labels, afforded fans a direct way to help out folks whose work was getting them through the day, and allowed people who had lost all their performing opportunities a chance to make a little money. Some players took the opportunity to release music solely through Bandcamp. English soprano/tenor saxophonist John Butcher has issued seven titles collectively dubbed The Memory of Live Music. They are a sequence of previously unreleased, archival concert recordings monthly, all splendid musical statements, but also reminders of what we have been missing. Chicago saxophonist Dave Rempis’ Aerophonic Records likewise posted live recordings of short-lived ensembles like the Outskirts that he’d never gotten around to documenting, as well as one-off encounters, such as a marvelously wooly 2012 concert with guitarist Terrie Ex and drummer Tim Daisy at Milwaukee’s Sugar Maple.

But Bandcamp also gave some musicians an opportunity to create outside the frameworks of physical recordings and performance in physical proximity. Soprano/tenor saxophonist Ingrid Laubrock and her husband, drummer Tom Rainey, used her Bandcamp page as a conduit for Stir Crazy, a semi-weekly series of home recordings. Each installment lasts 15 or 20 minutes, and it might be a free improvisation, a run through a friend or inspirational elder’s compositions, or a topical commentary, such as the loving, skeletal performances of tunes from the American Songbook that they offered a few days after the election. And jazz clarinetist Ben Goldberg has kept a Plague Diary of nearly-daily sketches for clarinet and electric keyboard. Some celebrate friends, colleagues, family members, and historical figures; others simply work out an idea. It feels a bit like an invitation to look over the guy’s shoulder and see how his notions come into being.

Other parties made the circumstances of the time into a premise for new work. Mary Staubitz (Donna Parker) and Russ Waterhouse (Blues Control) reached out to fellow musicians to contribute to Distant Duos. Each candidate’s mission was to improvise for five minutes while thinking of another player, who would likewise improvise for five minutes while thinking of their counterpart. Then Waterhouse and Parker would combine the tracks. The circumscribed duration and prior acquaintance kept collaborations by the likes of Kryssi Battalene / Jayson Gerycz and Jeb Bishop / Joseph Mauro charged and focused. And the Swiss label Insub instituted Distances, for which it enlisted eight composers (including Michael Pisaro-Liu, Ryoko Akama and Sarah Hennies) to devise pieces to be performed by two physically remote musicians (such as Mike Majkowski & Cyril Bondi, or Cristián Alvear & Violeta Motta). Each contribution consists of two videos, one a sequence of interviews with the composer and the players, the other a split-screen projection of the music being played. And if you want to take the music home, you can always buy it on Bandcamp.

But the response that compelled me most is AMPLIFY 2020: quarantine, an online festival of new work initiated by Estwhile Records’ Jon Abbey. On March 12, as concert seasons canceled and countries went to lockdown, Abbey and a circle of associates invited sound artists to contribute newly recorded pieces. Over the next six months they posted 240 pieces to Facebook and Bandcamp. Most were solo works, but several were blind duos for which musicians with shared histories and separate addresses submitted solo pieces with the understanding that they’d be mixed together. At the end of the festival, Taku Unami combined sounds from all 240 pieces into a final entry, “All Together Now.” The works encompassed paint-stripping noise, solemn études, field recordings, electronic music, musique concrete, improvisations, compositions, and works that combined several of the aforementioned methods. The contributors included people you probably know (Tom Carter, Toshimaru Nakamura, Sarah Hennies, Vanessa Rossetto), others I certainly didn’t (Fangyi Liu, Asha Sheshadri), and one who also writes for Dusted (Michael Rosenstein). They made diaries of their circumscribed days, laments for lost experiences and memorials for friends who died during the festival’s duration. There are too many good ones to name, so I’ll just single out a couple performers whose work especially touched me. Reinier van Houdt’s first piece, “drift nowhere past (22 march 2020),” marvelously captured the still loneliness of life that had shrunk to what you could perceive through a window or a screen. Five subsequent monthly instalments came to feel like notes of progress from an ongoing search for purpose and grace. And the radio captures that make up Keith Rowe’s “GF SUC,” recorded as Black Lives Matters protests arose around the world, imparted sadness beyond words; I’ve heard no music that was truer to the tragedy of this time.

Bill Meyer

#yearend 2020 #dusted magazine #bill meyer #experimental sound studio #dave rempis #hyde park jazz festival #bandcamp #john butcher #aerophonic records #stir crazy #plague diary #distant duos #distances #live music #improvised music #jazz #quarantine concerts

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ask-de-writer · 4 years ago

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Genii’s Junk (1 part) – A tale of the Bizarre Borderland

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the Bizarre Borderland

GENII’S JUNK

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

2581 words

Writing begun 06/19/14

From an idea by Alte Seely, who wondered what a Bizarre Borderland junk yard would be like.

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There were a few old, gnarled trees out in front. The building itself was totally unremarkable. Just an old, cheap sheet metal structure. The peeling, sun-faded sign read “Genii’s Junk – Worth anything or not, I buy it or sell it. If you need it, I have it. But it may need work!”

I parked in the shade of one of the trees and strolled into the slight gloom of the cool interior. There were dozens of racks holding the multitude of things that Genii wanted to keep out of the weather. The sun in Border County is infamous for destroying anything that it shines on, if it shines long enough.

It had obviously not shone on Genii enough to do any harm! Lovely young looking lady. Appearances are deceiving. She is lovely enough to look at, yes. Young? Define your terms. I know for a fact that she helped to found the Ottoman Empire. Lady? Try calling her human if you want an earfull of excellent profanity without a single sleazy four letter word.

Like everyone in North or South America, if you trace back far enough, there are immigrants in the woodwork. Genii is one, sort of. She has been in the same location since at least 1530. That is the year, not the time on a 24 hour clock.

She told me herself that Cortez was one cranky customer.

Today, there was a slight individual with a large head hidden by a bigger hat at the counter. Genii had the oscilloscope and a big, hundred function multimeter out on the counter and three big power leads with clamps and adapters.

A long, too many jointed finger pointed at a stud on the device sitting on the counter. His (?) somewhat squeaky voice demanded, “Positive One go here! Not over there, stupid human!”

Genii’s lovely face curled into a snarl, showing her many fangs. “Watch who you call HUMAN, you gray trash!”

Settling some, she explained patiently, as if to a retarded three year old, “This is the anti-gee element of a 1942 Star Sweeper. From 1951 on, you are right. For any earlier models, if you want to do that test hookup, put your gold on the counter now. You will not be alive to give it to me later but you WILL have destroyed the unit.

“This is from one of the two that US Airforce took down outside of Roswell in 1947.” She turned to a LONG shelf of manuals and other books that sat on top of the massive number of scroll pigeon holes. Taking down a much thumbed manual, she expertly flipped through pages and pointed to a picture for the customer.

“There. Manufacturer’s Manual for the 1942 Star Sweeper. Hookup diagram and warnings…” The Gray examined the manual in something like shock.

“Where you get this? I give you two pound gold for it.”

With a sour expression Genii pointed over her shoulder at a sign in at least a hundred languages. One of them was the same as the one in the book. It read, “NO WRITTEN MATERIALS FOR SALE AT ANY PRICE!”

He (?) started to say something more, while trying to put the manual under his (?) coat. Genii, with a disgusted look, leaped over the counter like an acrobat. She hit the customer with both feet at shoulder level, flattening him (?). She took back the manual and hopped back across the counter to put it away.

She also took the device off the counter and lifted the oscilloscope back to its rack of test equipment.

The test leads and other gear went neatly back to their places. Brightening, she turned to me.

“What can I do for you today, Jimmy?”

Flipply I replied, “You could sell me your bottle, my dear, but I have heard a rumor that your personal home is not for sale.

“Actually, I was looking for a carpet. Something that isn’t a Belgian knock-off of a real carpet.”

Lighting up, she asked, “Hand loomed and knotted or machine made?”

“Hand knotted, I think, Genii.”

“What about a dubious one? I have one out on Aisle 34, about a four or five hundred yards down. I’ll loan you a yard wand to get you there. It is between the NC-2 and the De Haviland bomber. There is a rack there. I am sure that you will have no trouble finding it.

I snickered. “Anything on YOUR aircraft rows is fun. What do you have that is new to you?”

Genii grinned in delight. How about an X-B70? It needs a little work!”

I chortled, and asked, “Which aisle? I should have no trouble seeing a Valkyrie if it is anything like reassembled.”

Genii handed me a wooden pole with a wide bicycle type seat and handlebars on it. With a grin, she said, “Aisle 36! Have fun!”

Leaving the disgruntled Gray behind, I took the handlebars, activating the “Yard Stick” and took off. In only moments, I found the Aisle 34 marker and swooped around the turn, scooting down the Aisle.

The NC-2 was a great locator. The giant WW I sea-going biplane was totally intact. It had a 103 foot wingspan. For wood and wire technology there were few that ever matched its sheer size and NONE that could match it for range and load.

It was meant to launch in Maine and fly antisubmarine patrol all the way to the Florida keys, non-stop. The Great War ended before it and its three sister aircraft were finished.

Congress canceled the contract without payment. Curtis (the C of NC-2) went ahead and finished all four planes on their own dime, while Congressmen all got on the “They will never fly” and “defrauding the War Department” band wagons. When all four launched from the factory in Virginia and flew up to Maine, the world was astounded.

When they refueled, they took on as passengers those few Congressmen and Navy personnel still championing the NCs as practical aircraft. They then flew, non-stop to the Florida Keys, exactly as designed, except that they were carrying almost a 20% overload in passengers, instead of bombs and depth charges. That feat blew away the whole world at the time.

It also shut up the NC program critics more effectively than if they had been hit by the bombs that the planes were designed to carry. Congress quietly tried to pass Curtis the money that they were due, so that the US Navy could claim the aircraft.

Later, the four made a trans Atlantic Flight. The NC-1 disappeared in thunderstorms. Some wreckage was found. The NC-3 was forced down at sea. It was taxiing on only two engines when found. The tow to the Azores caused enough damage to the plane that it could not continue.

The NC-2 got to the Azores a day before the NC-4. It refueled. The weather being good, it took off for Lisbon and was never seen again. The NC-4 landed in the Azores, refueled and later landed safely in Lisbon harbor, the first airplane to fly the Atlantic. It is now in the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum.

I made a note to ask Genii how she managed to get the NC-2 and set my yardstick down by the rack of carpets. They followed that old law, 90% of everything is crap.

Genii, as usual, was right about it not being hard to find the one that she had spoken of. It had a clearly later, and phony, Antwerp label sewed on. The work had been carelessly done. The metal needle used to sew the label on had damaged the port side lift and control spells, unless my Pocket Dowse and Spell Strength meter was wrong. Judging by the fringe and warp damage, it must have been some crash.

As I rolled up the carpet and strapped it to the Yardstick, I heard a warning siren. It was coming from the vicinity of the X-B70, whose huge nose and forward canards jutted above the intervening aircraft.

No chance to look at it, then. I headed back in to the shop. I got there just before the unearthly scream of the six monster jet engines being fired up. It sounded like the X-B70 was a live bird. If Genii was going to that much trouble, she very likely had a cash customer for it. I wondered who it was.

Sometimes Genii would talk about customers and sometimes not. It was never wise to pry. There was someone new at the counter. The Gray was still there. Still complaining.

Genii turned her back on him and told him, “You are right. I did not sell to you. I will not sell to you. You tried to shoplift PRINTED MATERIAL from ME! I have not let any written things go since Caesar screwed up our deal and BURNED the Library at Alexandria! You have only seconds left to get out of here alive! Go!” She was reaching under the counter when the Gray left - - at a waddling run.

Turning to the new man at the counter, she smiled very professionally and asked, “Sorry about the scene, General. What can I do for the Air Force today?”

Self-importantly, he replied, “What was that? It sounded like a jet engine test!”

Serenely, which is a bad sign with Genii, because it means that she is absolutely certain of her legal footing, Genii replied, “It was. X B-70 engine test. Starboard #2 engine began to develop vibration, so we aborted the test.

“It is ALL covered in my salvage contract. Do you need a copy?”

Sourly, the General replied, “Why bother? You can’t sell it if it is operational. Mass weapon laws.”

Smiling with her fangs but not her lovely eyes, Genii replied, “Loophole big enough to fly a carpet through, General. If I am not selling it on Earth, the laws don’t apply. I am not selling it anywhere that you have any authority.”

Voice hardening and chilling some, like maybe a glacier, she asked, “Do you have any actual business here?”

“Where are those ten computer stabilization systems that we ordered!” More a demand than a question. Bad way to make points with Genii.

Her face froze. “I have been forced to cut off all credit to the United States Armed Services. Proper notices were sent according to the contract. The reason given is failure to render payment of the agreed form or amount. Further, the Military Procurement Office has sent formal notice of refusal to pay and stated that I will receive only 1/10th of the outstanding total and that only by a check drawn on the Government.

“This has totally canceled our contracts and agreements. I filed a notice of repossession for all of the following items.”

She fished out a file box and gave the thunderstruck general a list. She also handed him a file of correspondence.

“That file and notice are copies of the originals. You may keep them or return them. Neither you nor any other armed service gets anything until I have my gold on the counter.”

I will give the General this. He took the whole file and settled himself at a large table. He began at the front and started working though it. Soon he was on a cell phone.

I was walking beside the Yardstick, guiding it with the handlebars. I brought it up to the counter and asked, “Got a Merlin S-multimeter, Genii? I want to check this out pretty carefully. I am certain that this is a Second Caliphate carpet but as near as my Pocket Dowse can show, the counterfeit label was sewed in with an Iron or Steel needle.

“Looks like that caused the control failure that made it crash.” I shook my head at foolishness. “Can you believe knowing enough to get a carpet like this and then sewing in the phony label for tax dodging with a steel needle? It shorted or blew out all the port side lift and control spells.”

Genii grinned hugely which showed off her big fangs wonderfully. She hopped across the counter again. She had five different willow wands and a very well worn Merlin in her hands.

She helped me to unroll the carpet. I showed her the weave and fringe damage that led me to think that the carpet had collided with something pretty solid at high speed.

Genii nodded agreement and plugged the biggest of the wands into the Merlin. Between us, we made sure that the original starboard spells were all intact.

The port side was a total loss. Between that steel needle and the impact damage that distorted the weave, and with it the spells, it was going to have to be totally reworked from fringe to fringe.

She looked up, shaking her head. “I got this out of the Lord Carleton Estate. I just paid a flat fee for it all. I was pretty sure of what this was but that was a LOT of stuff to sort. Drove my Yard Imps nuts.

“I just set it over in aircraft and hoped for the best. You lucked out, Jimmy. This IS a genuine and restorable Second Caliphate. I already have it priced.

“Yours for only five ounces.” She grinned again. I may be weird but I like Genii’s grin, fangs and all. She was holding out her hand.

Like a true gentleman, I dropped in three one troy ounce Krugerands and two Chinese Pandas. Genii, being Genii, closed her hand about them. When she opened it, the coins were gone and a receipt was in their place. It looked for all the world like a magic trick. Which it was. Real. Not slight of hand.

With the General expostulating fiercely into his phone in the background, Genii helped me roll the carpet snugly and secure it with straps for transport.

Carpet over my shoulder, I walked to the door. Looking out, the Gray and a companion were going over my rig, big jumper cables in hand. They were trailing down from the nearly antique Type A saucer hovering overhead,. They were trying to find the hookup points for a jump-start. One was gabbling in Gray, “No Anti-gravity! How it fly?”

Door partly open, I called back inside, “Genii! The Grays are trying to swipe my rig from your parking lot!”

Snaring her fiercest, Genii came barreling out past me. She had what looked like a shotgun in hand. The double boom sounded like a shotgun all right. The result was not your normal shot shell hit on the tough hull alloy of the Type A saucer overhead.

The blue fire blast was something to behold. A visible hole about a foot across started to trail smoke most impressively. The saucer tilted some and sailed across Genii’s Yard Fence. A few moments later the array of crashes and the crunch of failing metal announced the end of the saucer, and probably, some expensive junk. The Grays ran like rabbits while Genii was reloading. Definitely not normal shotgun ammo.

I stowed my find and climbed under the cloth sunshade of my rig and, taking out my control wand, lifted my old Mohgul Carpet and took off for home. As I flew, I reflected that if Genii had lost some junk in the crash, she had gained a whole, nearly intact Type A saucer for salvage. I think that she was going to come out ahead. As usual.

–THE END–

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the Bizarre Borderland

#GENII’S JUNK #Bizarre Borderland #modern fantasy #Written by De Writer

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joshuahyslop · 4 years ago

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BOOKS

The last 10 books I’ve read:

1. Wolf - Jim Harrison I found this book in one of the little neighbourhood book exchanges that are all around Vancouver. They look like little log cabins and it’s a loose “take a book, leave a book” policy. I’ve liked some of Harrison’s other books as well as some of his poetry so I picked it up. It’s fairly well written but it’s one of the most depraved and depressed characters I’ve read in a long time. It’s like a darker more depraved version of “On The Road”. More misogynistic, more obsessed with sex and completely lacking of anything philosophic. One of the reviewers on the back cover said it was (paraphrasing) a poetic depiction of a joyful life. I guess I must have read a different book.

2. The Crying of Lot 49 - Thomas Pynchon The first book of Pynchon’s I’d picked up. This was such an enjoyable read. I’ve steered clear of his books for fear of not being able to understand them. Every time I’ve talked about wanting to read his book “Gravity’s Rainbow”, I’ve been asked if I’ve read anything else by him. As if that’s a requirement. When I bought this book the teller asked me the same question. When I said no, he said “This is a good place to start.” I don’t know why that is, but now I’ve read one of his books and enjoyed it. I’ve eased into the Pynchon. I think I’m allowed to read another one now.

3. Joyland - Stephen King This was incredibly disappointing. I’ve read a lot of King’s books. They’re often hit or miss but they’re almost always enjoyable as brain candy. Books like, “The Shining”, “Carrie” or “Misery” are well written and suspenseful. It makes sense why he’s heralded as the King of Horror. But this one does not measure up. In fact, it falls very short of the rest of his work that I’ve read. I felt myself cringing at some of his dialogue. It was just so cheesy. Even though it was set in the 70′s, no one’s ever spoken like that. There’s very little suspense and the story itself isn’t very engaging. When you finally get to the action it’s only a couple of pages and then it’s done. It’s a very quick read, but definitely skippable.

4. The Truth About Stories - Thomas King A friend of mine who loves to read gave me a bag full of books to check out. This was one of them. It’s one of the CBC Massey Lectures and I love that series. I have a bunch of them already so I was excited to check this out. I also have King’s book, “The Inconvenient Indian” on my bookshelf in my “to read” pile. A pile that does nothing but seem to grow. But it’s still a ways down in the pile. So I thought I’d check out this little book because it’s only 5 essays and it would give me a sample of his writing. I’m very glad that I did. It’s so well written. It’s funny, it’s sad, it makes you think. If you care about stories, politics, religion, and the treatment of First Nations people by the US and Canadian governments, you should give this a read. I can’t wait to get to his book.

5. Deadeye Dick - Kurt Vonnegut In my last post I mentioned liking Vonnegut a lot and being surprised at how few of his books I’d read. It turns out I’m just very bad at using technology. I keep a Word document of all the books I’ve read to avoid reading the same book twice, accidentally. I’d tried using the “find” function and somehow did it wrong, so only a few Vonnegut titles showed up. As it turns out, this was the ninth book by Vonnegut that I’d read. That makes way more sense to me. I enjoyed this one a lot. It’s pretty funny and pretty sad. A good combination, if you ask me.

6. 69 - Ryu Murakami One of my favourite local used bookstores offers store credit if you bring in some books and they decide to buy them from you. You can either take cash or store credit. If you choose credit, you have to spend it all before you go. It’s fun. On this particular visit I had about $60 worth of credit. I’d picked the books I wanted and still had $14 left. They recommended this book. i’d never read anything by this Murakami (no relation to Haruki) so I had no idea what to expect but I was excited to check it out. I loved it. It takes place in 1969 and follows the path of some high school students looking to join or start some kind of counter-cultural movement. The two main characters actually reminded me a lot of my own experience in high school. I’ll be checking out more of his writing for sure.

7. Infinite Jest - David Foster Wallace Good lord. This was a mountain I’d tried to climb once before and failed. To have finally finished this book is no small feat. Standing at the top, looking back down I’m actually amazed I made it all the way through. It’s not that it’s an unenjoyable read. On the contrary. It’s very well written and quite enjoyable. It’s just that it’s over 1100 pages and contains 388 footnotes, many of which are several pages long and some even have footnotes of their own. At times it can feel like you’re reading two or three books at once. Another challenge is that there are at least 3 plots taking place all at once. Each story can jump ahead or backwards in time which can be tricky to track, PLUS there are character’s plot-lines that are introduced in great detail (one that comes to mind takes 11 pages to describe a young man addicted to marijuana anxiously waiting for his dealer to arrive) that are never again revisited. The three main story lines are loosely connected but the book takes its sweet time revealing that fact. All of that, mind you, and we still haven’t even mentioned the deep themes of addiction, suicide and capitalism that run throughout the book. I’m very glad I’ve read it. I usually enjoyed doing so. But if you’re not committed, if you don’t have some serious time to lean in, or if you don’t like his style of writing then perhaps you should steer clear. It’s an uphill climb, for sure.

8. Kwaidan: Stories and Studies of Strange Things - Lafcadio Hearn This book caught my eye while I was taking my son for a walk. It was in the window of another one of our local bookstores, so I stopped in and checked it out. It’s a book of Japanese ghost stories and myths from hundreds if not thousands of years ago. The stories themselves are sometimes scary, sometimes funny, sometimes very confusing, but always enjoyable. Although the last three chapters completely disregard all things Japanese and consist of the authors philosophical rumination regarding Butterflies and the afterlife, Mosquitoes and the taking of innocent life (even when it seems to serve no purpose), and Ants and their altruistic existence vs our individualistic societies. There are other books in this series and I plan to check out at lease one more. I’ve always wanted to go to Japan so I’ve got a definite bias here, but if you like myths or ghost stories there’s a good chance you’d enjoy this book.

9. Braiding Sweetgrass - Robin Wall Kimmerer I know I’m late to the party on this one, but this is a fantastic book. It’s one that I’ll be recommending for years to come. Its subtitle is: “Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teaching of Plants”. It is all of that and so much more. I truly loved reading this book. I took notes. I underlined. I had to stop to think and reflect. I’d definitely encourage you to do the same.

10. Masters of Atlantis - Charles Portis This book is hilarious. Very dry, very droll. It’s a tongue-in-cheek look at the people who organize and who believe in secret societies, cults and religion in general. I didn’t know what to expect when I started it. The only other book by Portis that I’ve read was True Grit. This book is absolutely nothing like that. It’s completely it’s own. The only thing it has in common is Portis’ sense of humour. I don’t know that I’ve ever read anything quite so dry as this before. Maybe something by S.J. Perelman or something like that. This book was recommended to me by M.C. Taylor from Hiss Golden Messenger so I was pretty confident it would be good. It’s safe to say I would never have picked it up without the recommendation but also, I’m glad that I did.

more soon, -joshua

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studyingatyork · 5 years ago

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Writing English lit essays at undergrad degree level (UK)

Have a focused argument. Your essay should be based around one particular idea.

That idea doesn't have to be super complex!!

The first time I received a mark of 70+ for an essay, the argument was literally "this character is intended to be likeable" - I picked up marks because I supported my argument with historical research & close analysis.

Always always always pick a topic/idea that genuinely interests you. Something about the text (book/poem/play/song/whatever you're studying) that stands out to you, personally. Something you find yourself rambling about to your coursemates/friends/family.

Once you have an idea of what you want to write about, find primary material/extracts - i.e. quotes from the text that support your argument.

Do close analysis of your extracts for literary techniques.

Each point of your essay should be based around your own close analysis of the text, integrating bits of secondary research as you go.

That will make your tutor go "hell yeah!! this student is v confident in their argument a+++"

If you've done A level English, you'll know the drill for close analysis tbh.

Look at each quote and ask yourself "why does this make me feel this way?"

Is it the connotations of a certain word? Is it the use of rhyme or repetition? Is it the use of a certain lexicon (e.g. a bunch of words that all refer to the same theme)? Etc.

Try to come up with at least 3 or 4 things to say about each extract.

At degree level you need to be aware of the historical context of this literary form/genre!!

Literary forms did not spring into existence at the dawn of time, my friends.

If you're studying Austen, you need to know that the "novel" was a newfangled thing in the early 1800s.

If you're studying Shakespeare, you need to know about the London playhouses opening in 1500s, and why plays suddenly became super popular at that time.

All of that will influence why your text was created, so it will influence your argument.

That's the kind of thing you will learn about in lectures or seminars, but there will be books and articles on literary forms as well, which you should be citing in your essay.

Which leads us into...

Research historical, social, political, biographical contexts

Basically, have a picture in your mind of where your text sits.

Some combination of the author's personal life & social issues of the era & the literary scene of the era - all led to this particular text being created!!

I know that "historical context" can seem like such a broad term & can feel overwhelming to even consider, but you're not expected to be a world class historian, just to show some awareness of these contexts.

It can help to brainstorm all those different contexts, and plan where you're going to mention them in your essay, how they might be relevant to each quote you use.

E.g. you might find a quote which you can link to the author's personal life, another which could reflect a particular social movement.

But always link it back to your argument at the end of every paragraph.

Research critical opinions on this topic/field

What have published scholars already said about this? Has someone already made a similar argument? Has someone made an argument that goes against yours? Have people studied a related topic, but not the exact thing you're interested in?

Don't be afraid to argue against a critic!! Some of my best essays were ones where I threw hands with published scholars.

But make sure you have some solid analysis to back up your argument, if you're going to do that.

In my experience you can REALLY pick up marks here, by showing that you've done your research.

Just by including a few sentences like "Mr Scholar and Dr Academic have both produced acclaimed work on the cultural significance of gnomes in Wonderland, but neither have considered the importance of fairies, which I will explore in this essay..."

There are lots of different ways to actually find this kind of secondary material (I might make another post on research if anyone cares??) but essentially Google Scholar and JSTOR are your best friends. Search those key terms!!

Other general advice

Always go to see your module tutor (who will be marking your essay!) in their office hours, while you're in the researching/planning stage.

Seriously, this isn't A level where the examiner hates you - your uni tutors really want you to enjoy your module and get a good mark.

They're nerds experts in this field, and they'll be able to give you really useful info, about things like which critics are important for you to consider.

Every point/paragraph should serve your argument. No waffle points. If you're struggling to bump up your word count, find more quotes and add more close analysis that supports your argument.

Research =/= reading until your eyes fall out

When you get a big ass book from the library for secondary research, open it already thinking: how am I going to use this to support my argument?

Sometimes that means only reading the introduction and conclusion, to get a general feel for author's general argument.

Sometimes that means only using one chapter that's relevant to you.

Sometimes that means using the index for key terms, e.g. "women" or "death" or "colonialism".

Remember, you'll probably only end up mentioning one or two things from each secondary source, in your final essay.

I cannot stress this enough: record all your research in a research document (Word, Google docs, a notebook, whatever suits you).

And note down the title, author and especially the PAGE NUMBER for every bit of research you do. Every. Single. Bit.

You'll need to quote the page numbers for all your secondary sources, in your references. You don't want to be desperately flipping through a 500-page book looking for one single quote the night before it's due.

Other blogs pls feel free to add more advice!!

#studyblr #university #english literature #english lit student #english degree #essay advice #undergrad #academia #obviously this is subjective to my experience at my own uni and other unis may mark essays differently #but this is the stuff i needed to hear in first year

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timeclonemike · 5 years ago

Note

Obvious Photoshop is obvious, pigs don't grow that big, and please don't tell me you actually believe that pigs are dangerous.

I’m just going to copy and past from the Wikipedia Page on Wild Boars a few times. The actual page can be found here for anyone who wants to check my sources: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wild_boar

On The Subject of Potential Danger:

The wild boar is a bulky, massively built suid with short and relatively thin legs. The trunk is short and massive, while the hindquarters are comparatively underdeveloped. The region behind the shoulder blades rises into a hump and the neck is short and thick to the point of being nearly immobile. The animal's head is very large, taking up to one-third of the body's entire length.[3] The structure of the head is well suited for digging. The head acts as a plough, while the powerful neck muscles allow the animal to upturn considerable amounts of soil:[33] it is capable of digging 8–10 cm (3.1–3.9 in) into frozen ground and can upturn rocks weighing 40–50 kg (88–110 lb).[9] The eyes are small and deep-set and the ears long and broad. The species has well developed canine teeth, which protrude from the mouths of adult males. The middle hooves are larger and more elongated than the lateral ones and are capable of quick movements.[3] The animal can run at a maximum speed of 40 km/h (25 mph) and jump at a height of 140–150 cm (55–59 in).[9]

On Human Attacks Specifically:

Actual attacks on humans are rare, but can be serious, resulting in multiple penetrating injuries to the lower part of the body. They generally occur during the boars' rutting season from November to January, in agricultural areas bordering forests, or on paths leading through forests. The animal typically attacks by charging and pointing its tusks towards the intended victim, with most injuries occurring on the thigh region. Once the initial attack is over, the boar steps back, takes position and attacks again if the victim is still moving, only ending once the victim is completely incapacitated.[95][96]

Boar attacks on humans have been documented since the Stone Age, with one of the oldest depictions being a cave painting in Bhimbetaka, India. The Romans and Ancient Greeks wrote of these attacks (Odysseus was wounded by a boar and Adonis was killed by one). A 2012 study compiling recorded attacks from 1825–2012 found accounts of 665 human victims of both wild boars and feral pigs, with the majority (19%) of attacks in the animal's native range occurring in India. Most of the attacks occurred in rural areas during the winter months in non-hunting contexts and were committed by solitary males.[97]

On The Subject of Size and Mass:

Adult size and weight is largely determined by environmental factors; boars living in arid areas with little productivity tend to attain smaller sizes than their counterparts inhabiting areas with abundant food and water. In most of Europe, males average 75–100 kg (165–220 lb) in weight, 75–80 cm (30–31 in) in shoulder height and 150 cm (59 in) in body length, whereas females average 60–80 kg (130–180 lb) in weight, 70 cm (28 in) in shoulder height and 140 cm (55 in) in body length. In Europe's Mediterranean regions, males may reach average weights as low as 50 kg (110 lb) and females 45 kg (99 lb), with shoulder heights of 63–65 cm (25–26 in). In the more productive areas of Eastern Europe, males average 110–130 kg (240–290 lb) in weight, 95 cm (37 in) in shoulder height and 160 cm (63 in) in body length, while females weigh 95 kg (209 lb), reach 85–90 cm (33–35 in) in shoulder height and 145 cm (57 in) in body length. In Western and Central Europe, the largest males weigh 200 kg (440 lb) and females 120 kg (260 lb). In Northeastern Asia, large males can reach brown bear-like sizes, weighing 270 kg (600 lb) and measuring 110–118 cm (43–46 in) in shoulder height. Some adult males in Ussuriland and Manchuria have been recorded to weigh 300–350 kg (660–770 lb) and measure 125 cm (49 in) in shoulder height. Adults of this size are generally immune from wolf predation.[35] Such giants are rare in modern times, due to past overhunting preventing animals from attaining their full growth.[3]

On a personal note, I grew up on a farm, and while we did not keep pigs ourselves I have heard anecdotes and commentary from neighbors who have. Even domesticated pigs raised for meat can be extremely dangerous, both as a function of their size and as a function of being omnivores. Thomas Harris didn’t make up the whole “pigs will eat people alive” thing for Hannibal.

On another personal note, I ran across a science fiction story ages ago called “The Man From P.I.G.” that features a space cop backed up by a herd of trained, genetically engineered hogs. The idea was that the animals were tough, dangerous, smart enough to be given instructions, and self-supporting in that they could forage for food so they didn’t have supply lines that could be cut off like military units. Despite the fantastic elements, it remains one of the most realistic scifi stories I have ever read. Unfortunately I can’t find it anywhere to revisit it.

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redwoodrroad · 5 years ago

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so..... now that halloween is coming up (specifically for guild wars 2), theres something that’s been on my mind, especially lately. theres always been this confusion about joko’s age and how long he’s Really been around

obviously he hasnt been around since the primevals, and last year we had the opportunity to track down joko memorabilia, and a bunch of documents were put into the trophy cabinet in the mad king’s labyrinth. within that cabinet, we then learned that joko must have actually grown up around the same time as thorn, from this page from.... his diary.... which i love lol

that said, there’s something still really odd in my mind because looking at the official timeline,

this makes it seem like he predates oswald by several decades--assuming the mad king was in his 50s-60s (maybe 70s at the latest?) when he dies--because let’s assume joko was an adult by the time he builds the Bone Palace (assuming he did build it; i’ll get to that): if he’s even in his 20s to build the palace, that means he was born somewhere around 730 AE--and if he was (likely) a teenager when he went to Kryta to hang out with oswald, likely around the same age, that would mean oswald is 95 when he’s killed in 825. that isnt even including the possibility that joko is already a lich by the time he erects the bone palace, and why would joko decide to become a lich while he’s still so young, like you’d figure he’d become a lich to prolong his life once he reaches the point where mortality based on age has started coming into question

im gonna put the rest of this under the cut to spare my followers who dont wanna read about all this but please lmk what you think if you wanna read the rest!!

so this is where i get a little lost and wonder if joko is even as old as the writers say he is. and maybe im getting the math wrong here, or i might not have the right grasp on the passage of time, but to me, it feels entirely possible that joko built the bone palace WAY later and destroyed / got rid of any evidence that would place the event at the actual year

remember: he’s likely an adult AND a lich already when he has it built (and maybe theres no reason for me to assume he’s a lich by then; it just feels like all the more power to him if he has the ability to literally control people into building it without asking questions), and ALSO remember that AFTER he invaded elona in 860, he “updated” the bone palace to include centaur skeletons

if he builds the bone palace and decides soon after that he wants to include the bones of centaurs, he has every opportunity to claim that the bone palace was there for much longer than it really has been, and this new construction is just “an update.” who’s gonna dispute that??? anyone who says “wait a minute, this wasnt here 100 years ago, i helped you build it last week!!” is gonna get thrown in the junundu hatchery to get eaten

not to mention--no one lives in the southern part of the Desolation. it’s also entirely possible that joko shut down any transit between vabbi and the central / northern part of the desolation in 860 just to build the bone palace, and no one even noticed whether it was there or not until it was there. plus, anyone who tries to say it definitely wasnt built before that century will just be hushed by authorities. and as for the djinn at Sand Jackal Run, what do they care what this twink lich does with his time lol they dont give a shit, who are they gonna gossip to about some gaudy palace next door

and here i wanna say that i think another possibility is that joko didnt originally build the bone palace at all--it could have really been built in 757 by an architect or ruler who had their own idea of why they wanted it there, and maybe joko just swoops in later around 860, liked how it looked, and wanted it for himself. he claimed it for his own and then thought it was missing something, so he Really made it his own by covering it in the bones of centaurs--and then, when anyone asks about that palace, he just says, “oh i built it in 757, but i updated it 100 years later, dont worry about it.”

i think this is equally as likely as my first suggestion, and it definitely doesnt change why i think this is interesting--and it’s INTERESTING to me because i think it’s pretty sus that the official date for the bone palace having been built is 63 years before the mad king is killed, and to me, i just think there’s no way the mad king made it to his 90s before he’s mauled by angry krytans--OR that joko might have been so much older than him, especially if they engaged in little pun wars while joko was visiting kryta.

i mean, with that assumption, we would have to say that joko was.... in his 20s? 30s? when he meets thorn for the first time? because if we assume now that joko really does build the bone palace in 757, but thorn dies in his... lets say 60s.... thorn would have been born between 755 and 765. but if joko built the bone palace even while thorn was an infant, it would sort of place joko at a place in his life where he wouldnt need to be dragged around by his mother. if he’s capable enough to build a palace, what would he be doing letting his diplomat mother take him to kryta--she has no sway over him once he has that kind of power, and joko doesnt exactly make himself notable as a mama’s boy--and beyond even that, if joko’s really an adult while visiting kryta, why would he--a 20- or 30-year-old man--be hanging out with.... a ten year old. or even a 16-year-old? why would he be playing little games with him?? because ALSO REMEMBER: thorn was NOT the only child to his ruling parents! he HAD an older brother--Ewan! if joko would be hanging out with anyone around that time if he was that age--and this decisively BEFORE oswald kills ewan because he kills ewan After the elonian diplomatic visit--it would have been Ewan.

all im saying--and maybe someone else has come to this conclusion or posted about it already, so im really sorry if im echoing a point that has already been made--is that joko is known for manufacturing lies about himself and his history of ruling; he has every opportunity to fabricate when the bone palace was built to further solidify himself as a long-ruled king just the same as when he claimed he was the last of the primeval dynasty.

the only DIFFERENCE between that and this suggestion is that the official historians likely have no idea either way when the bone palace was really built or by whom, and i think that’s really saying something! this is what ive really been trying to get to: the uncertainty of whether that palace was built in 757 or not, or if it was even built by joko’s people at all--that level of uncertainty about a major event is something we in the real world are sort of accustomed to seeing, but in this game where we have an official timeline set up--paired with the in-game confirmation that there are those in the world who purposefully muck up said timeline for personal gain--the conception of a major architectural feat is completely up in the air! plus..... if it really is the case that this event is inaccurately noted, then what other events in tyrian history have been officially but inaccurately noted? i think this calls a lot of things into question, even if we cant say for sure what events could be inaccurate or falsely represented.

MAYBE no one else cares about this, so that’s fine, but i just keep thinking about it, and i wanted to get my thoughts out there. let me know what you think if you read all of this hoosafudge because in-game history stuff is fascinating to me, and i think it says a lot about the world these characters are living in.

#redwoods words #i hope.... this all makes sense lmao this thought process hit me like a train and i had to get it all out there #guild wars 2 #palawa joko

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curiooftheheart · 5 years ago

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I was gonna come up with some plot summary sorta thing for a big fan FGO Event purely to lead up to these fan Summer Servant profiles I spent the last week on. But the document is already 41 pages so I’m gonna split it into two posts even with the Read more and I don’t want it more. You start in a water park, pirates attack, it’s Blackbeard, after a few days both the pirates and Blackbeard become corrupted by something, then it gets worse, you drive him off, you go to a water park where you get an Artoria Lily welfare, fight Blackbeard and his forces some more, the corruption then comes out full force. There. Reading the Blackbeard profile gives most of the idea of what you need, for the first half at least.

My template for what to do was as such:

2 5* Summonables 4 4* Summonables 1 4* Welfare 2 Saberfaces

And threw in a single 3* because I can and limited 3*s are neat. Anyways, here’s the first four. Also note I’m bad at balance and writing lol:

SFG (Summer Fun Gang) Alter Ego 5-Star ATK: 1926/12465 Grail ATK: 13645 HP: 1862/12696 Grail HP: 13909 Attribute: Man Star Absorption: 100 Star Generation: 10.2% NP Charge ATK: 0.61% NP Charge DEF: 4% Death Rate: 30% Alignment: True Summer Gender: Female Traits: Female, Humanoid, Large, Servants, Weak to Enuma Elish, Summer

Deck: 2 Quick, 2 Art, 1 Buster 3-Hit Quick 3-Hit Art 3-Hit Buster 3-Hit Extra

In combat, each member takes one kind of attack. With Quick it is of course Jack who uses a squirt gun as the Master of Chaldea forbid her knives. Nursery attacks for Arts, using summoned mermaids and a walrus to attack the enemy. Buster is covered by Bunyan wielding Babe like a beach ball. Extra has Jeanne Santa strike by shooting out of a water slide into a headbutt, the water getting in one hit as it hits the target.

Active Skills:

Summer Comrades A+ Increases party’s critical damage for 3 turns Regens 3 stars each turn for each Summer ally on the field for 3 turns. Crit Damage+: 15%->30% Cooldown: 8->6

So with a team of 3 Summer servants that is 9 stars a turn (18 if you have SFG and a support SFG)

Splash In The Pool A+ Increases own Extra performance for 3 turns Grants self Evasion, 2 attacks, 3 turns Extra performance: 35%->70% Cooldown: 8->6

Extra performance up just boosts whatever the Extra would do. Never been done before to my knowledge this way. Huge boost as you’d likely need planning and luck to get it off even twice during the 3 turns.

Joyfulness of Children A+ Charges own NP Restores own HP Removes own debuffs NP Charge: 20%->40% Heal: 1000->2000 Cooldown: 8->6

Passive Skills:

Magic Resistance A+ Increases own debuff resistance by 21%.

Territory Creation A Increases own Arts performance by 10%.

Presence Concealment C+ Increases own critical star generation rate by 6.5%.

Mad Enhancement D Increases own Buster performance by 4%.

Budding Friendship No effect

Noble Phantasm:

Water Mountain Splashdown Every Kid’s Summer Dream Rank A Anti-Boredom Classification Type Arts Hit Count 8 Deals damage to all enemies Base Damage+: 450% NP Level 5 Damage+:750% Overcharge Effect: Increases all allies’ NP damage for 1 turn (Activates first). 100% Charge NP Damage+: 20% Max Charge NP Damage+: 30%

Their NP is Water Mountain Splashdown. They channel their favorite ride to bring a deluge of water down, flooding the field and hitting all enemies for Arts damage. As the water spills down to drown their enemies, the four come down more gently on riding tubes. The excitement of it raises not just their own but the entire team’s NP damage beforehand (the overcharge effect).

Stats: Strength: C Agility: A Luck: A++ Endurance: A Mana: A NP: A Note: All stats are composites based on the highest one found in each category among the friends except NP.

Bond 10 Reward Water Park Tickets When equipped to SFG Increases critical damage of Summer allies by 30% while on field Summer allies heal by 800 each turn

Description:

Six tickets provided by Gilgamesh to his Waterpark, Exciting Splash Water Park. One for the Master of Chaldea, one for Mash, and four for the young members of the SFG.

Now that the vacation these tickets are for has come and passed, they have no more use. But they will serve as a forever reminder of fun, friendship, togetherness, and going down waterslides. The tickets also show that even those who didn’t have natural existences and couldn’t enjoy childhoods deserve a summer break.

Biography:

Default:

The manifestation of children’s wishes for a fun summer vacation and happy visits to the beach or water parks. Overtaken by summertime glee, young friends joined together and begged the Master of Chaldea to take them to a waterpark. Unable to resist their combined cuteness, the Master broke down and took them. Jack, Nursery Rhyme, Jeanne Santa, and Bunyan team up to have the best summer vacation ever, including taking out nasty enemies who would disrupt their water park vacation. As none were ever normal kids with normal childhoods in life, nor even had lives to begin with, only a true monster would take this opportunity from them now.

Bond 1:

Height/Weight: Multiple and variable Source: Multiple Region: America and Europe, as well as the Exciting Splash Water Park Alignment: True Summer Gender: Female The multi faceted nature of the servant and lack of a main controller makes height and weight meaningless.

Bond 2: None of these four friends ever lived, let alone had childhoods. Nursery Rhyme comes the closest as her stories were told to children as they grew up, but even then she never experienced it for herself. So when Nursery Rhyme found out that Gilgamesh currently held ownership over a water park, she became excited to try out the activities of normal human children during the summer.

She gathered her closest friends and they all started their attack on the Master. It was a swift victory and an equally swift travel to get them bathing suits (as well as crush Blackbeard who tried tagging along) then to the Exciting Splash water park. Despite their false existences, their joy is very real.

Bond 3:

Thanks to Bunyan’s odd spirit origin, the four even melded together spiritually to share their strength, skills, and abilities, and forming an Alterego. Dubbing themselves the Summer Fun Gang, or SFG for short, they are trying to live carefree lives for at least a short while. They know that with the world as it is they cannot take a full Summer vacation, but a Summer of a few days will do them well. Maybe other child servants should be invited along too, they can all use a summer vacation.

Bond 4:

Every Kid’s Summer Dream Rank: A Classification: Anti-Boredom

The rapturous joy of going down a massive water slide in a tube. Technically owned by Gilgamesh, the girls appropriate the Water Mountain attraction to combat boredom and enemies. You become exhilarated just by being in line for it, reaching the top and getting to ride down yourself is an unmatchable feeling, at least to the young servants. It takes hundreds of gallons of water to keep running, and this water becomes a devastating tsunami for those in the splash zone.

Bond 5: They really love the water park, maybe even more than the beach. Even Gilgamesh was moved by their happiness, keeping the park open later than usual so they didn’t have to quit playing so early.

Since Bunyan came along, Babe did too. But the first time the beast got thirsty, she drained a pool then fell asleep in it.

Extra:

“We had so much fun today, mommy.” “This was so nice! I wonder if we could host Christmas here this year…” “As this vacation ends, I feel like a reader who has reached the last page but doesn’t want to put the volume back on the shelf just yet.” “Truly a great example of American civilization! Maybe I could drain the Great Lakes to make an even better water park.”

The words of appreciation of four young, quite strange Servants aimed at the Master of Chaldea. Words even more refreshing on this hot summer day than even a cold popsicle.

Appearance: Of course as stated, SFG is a team of Jack, Nursery Rhyme, Bunyan, and Jeanne Santa Alter Lily. In battle, the other three gaggle around Bunyan and all four are out at all times. It isn’t like Bonny and Read where one manifests at a time.

In their first ascension, the girls are all wearing Japanese school swimsuits, the ones from the Summer Little CE in fact for the three who were on it. Yes including the stockings and Jalter Santa having that cape thing. The design already exists and I’d like to tinker with it but they probably wouldn’t. Bunyan is still wearing her Stage 1 hat and Babe themed water wings.

Like Raiko, the second ascension has no real connection to the beach/water park. Instead they are wearing something more fit for Summer festivals: Yukata. Bunyan’s looks like her outfit from her Heroic Spirit Traveling Outfit CE, Jack is wearing a black one with red stripes that look a little too close to blood, Nursery has one themed after Mother Goose, with geese on it, and Jeanne Santa has her one from the New Beginning CE (which is hard to make out through normal Jeanne but appears to be green with Christmas-y patterns, her cape thing with ribbon, and her hair ribbon but not hear head cover).

In the third ascension they go back to swimsuits. While I think DW would probably go something inappropriate, I refuse. Jack has her blue and white swimsuit from the Chaldea Lifesavers CE including the sunglasses. Jeanne Alter has a similar one piece but with the colors and hair ribbons of her outfit in the Detective Edmond CE. Bunyan has gone back to the school swimsuit but now wears her Stage 3 hat and has a Babe tube instead of water wings. Nursery is in a blue swimsuit with a mermaid on it.

The art for the fourth ascension is them going down the water slide. Jack, Jeanne, and Nursery share one tube that is themed after Fou. Bunyan is riding her own, larger one themed after Babe. They are wearing their third ascension swimsuits, except Bunyan isn’t wearing a swimming tube since she’s riding it.

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

Edward Teach (Dagon) Foreigner 5-Star ATK: 1920/12,345 Grail ATK: 13,500 HP: 1850/12,300 Grail HP: 13,530 Attribute: Sky Star Absorption: 154 Star Generation: 15% NP Charge ATK: 0.36% NP Charge DEF: 3% Death Rate: 10% Alignment: Chaotic Evil Gender: Male Traits: Male, Humanoid, Servants, Weak to Enuma Elish, Summer, Threat to Humanity

Deck: 1 Quick, 2 Art, 2 Buster 3-Hit Quick 4-Hit Art 2-Hit Buster 4-Hit Extra

Blackbeard attacks with strikes and guns, but also has control over water now which he strikes with. His extra attack is special and changes based on ascension. In his first ascension, he sends out three pirates who attack once each and latch on, then shoots a cannon at the target. In his second, the pirates become tainted by eldritch influence and the cannon shoots a blast of water instead. In his third ascension, it’s three Deep Ones and a tentacle strikes them instead of a cannon. They all have the same effects, hit count, and all, just different animation.

Active Skills:

Voyage of the Stars EX Increases Party’s NP damage for 1 turn Increases party’s Attack for 1 turn Overcharges own and female allies’ NPs by 1 stage for 1 turn. NP Damage+: 7%->14% Attack+: 7%->14% Cooldown: 8->6

Deep One’s Honor B+ Increases own attack for 3 turns Grants self Guts status for 1 time, 3 turns Ignores own defense class disadvantage for 3 turns. (Takes 1x damage from Foreigner and Alter Ego) Attack+: 9%->27% Guts HP: 1000->2000 Cooldown: 9->7

Gentleman’s Twisted Love A+ Reduces max HP of other Male Allies by 2000 [Demerit] Restores party’s HP Further recovers the HP of Female allies (and Genderless). Heal: 1500->2500 Female Heal: 1500->2500

Passive Skills:

Existence Outside the Domain EX Gains 2 critical stars every turn. Increases own debuff resistance by 12%.

Territory Creation (Aquatic) A Increases own Arts performance by 10%. Further increases Arts performance by 3% while on a Waterside Field

Divinity B Increases own damage by 175.

Noble Phantasm: Queen Anne’s Revenge From The Deep Dagon’s Ancient Wrath Rank EX Anti-Army Classification Type Buster Hit Count 5 Removes all enemy’s defense buffs. (Activates first) Deals damage to all enemies. Base Damage+: 300% NP Level 5 Damage+: 500% Overcharge Effect: Deals extra damage to Male enemies. 100% Charge : 100% Max Charge : 200%

His NP is the Queen Anne’s Revenge from the Deep. A version of Blackbeard’s beloved ship twisted by Dagon’s influence, manned by Deep Ones. The ship rising from the watery depths lets out a wave of water that strikes the first hit. Then it unleashes a barrage of cannonballs which explode into small black holes before fading away.

Stats: Strength: A+ Agility: C Luck: C+ Endurance: A++ Mana: A NP: A

Bond 10 Reward Deep One’s Respect When equipped to Edward Teach (Foreigner) Increases party’s Buster Performance by 15% while he is on the field. 10% chance to charm Female enemies for 1 turn when attacking

Description:

The loyalty of the Deep Ones who serve Dagon. As both Dagon and his host body have chosen you as someone they could reasonably say they like, the Deep Ones also will serve you. The Deep Ones are strange, chthonic beings who live in the deep sea but arose when their master did. They are not evil themselves but have a morality utterly at odds with humanity’s so forming a connection with one is about as easy as a human beating a servant in wrestling.

Still, now that things have been completed and the Siege of the Water Park has ended, they are relaxing like the rest of the guests. They seem to particularly like to sit in deep ends of the pools and then leap forward, tearing off swimsuits of other guests. This is likely the influence of Edward Teach more than it is Dagon.

Biography:

Default:

The familiar Edward Teach, a servant of questionable morals and taste. He is well known around Chaldea already, so you may need little in the way of introduction for him. A grand pirate and scoundrel.

However, he recently had a shipwreck and has been...off ever since his return. Perhaps something happened to damage his origin in the wreck?

Bond 1:

Height/Weight: 210 cm 114 kg Source: Historical Fact (And maybe more?) Region: Caribbean Sea Alignment: Chaotic Evil Gender: Male He sunk his precious Queen Anne’s Revenge, and then 108 hours later returned on it in tattered shape. What happened to this man?

Bond 2:

“A tragic twisting of a god”

The being possessing Blackbeard is an ancient deity known as Dagon. While once a very positive force for many ancient peoples, he lost all of his popularity as time went on. As if that wasn’t enough, he was then twisted by H.P. Lovecraft. Once a gentle god of fertility and agriculture, he has been corrupted into an otherworldly abomination with no hope to recover his old form. He now reigns over the Deep Ones, an aquatic humanoid race with mysterious origins.

Bond 3:

Dagon’s Ancient Wrath Rank: EX Classification: Anti-Army

Queen Anne’s Revenge from the Deep. While Edward Teach can call on his vessel, she had sadly sunk in an accident at the high sea. While she should be lost to him, the outer god power he was granted lets him raise and crew the ship. The influence reaches even her cannons, which now shoot cannonballs that explode into collapsing space.

Bond 4:

All of his skills come from his natural host body’s predilections though influenced by the influence of Dagon.

Voyager of the Stars EX

Having the ability to conquer any storm except the most divine normally, Blackbeard’s sailing skills reach untold heights with his new powers and crew. He could sail to the moon, sun, stars, and beyond. The only reason he hasn’t yet is because space lacks wenches.

Deep One’s Honor B+

A skill that draws upon the Deep Ones which Dagon controls. Honor is hard to define for the utterly inhuman brains of the Deep Ones so the name is a bit of a misnomer, but it represents their loyalty and support towards their king.

Gentleman’s Twisted Love A+

The gentlemanly aura of Edward Teach amplified by the god giving him strength. His desire to be the one to always win a fair maiden’s heart means that he often leads to heartbreaks of other men. But given some young girls, he can make a move that sets their hearts ablaze and strengthens everyone.

Bond 5:

Distraught at the Master of Chaldea using a Command Seal to ban him from the water park trip this year, Blackbeard decided to get drunk and go for a long cruise on the Queen Anne’s Revenge. Unfortunately for him, he hit a storm that was laced with otherworldly energy. Even his Voyager of the Storm powers wasn’t enough to save him and his ship, so they sunk.

He awoke later in a large underground temple. There he met Dagon, the outer god looking for a host. After some talking, debating, and begging, Blackbeard became the host for Dagon to move about in the world. While Dagon took most of the control, he was still heavily influenced by Blackbeard.

Which led to an overlap of interests in the Exciting Splash Water Park. Blackbeard wanted to go to enjoy summer and the bodies of the female servants, while Dagon saw it as a potential spawning ground for his Deep Ones on the surface so they could launch attacks easier. And as such, a plan was formed and executed. Thankfully the Master of Chaldea drove them off..

Extra:

Dagon was attracted to Blackbeard for many reasons. A connection to the sea, Blackbeard’s hardiness that many beings would be jealous of, and utter lack of understanding the personal space of others. Blackbeard’s brain is surprisingly well off for someone who not only met but hosts an otherworldly being. It has been suggested that this may be because his brain was already too far gone to actually get more damaged, but he likes to play it off as being so strong that not even Dagon can harm his mind.

Appearance:

Blackbeard starts out relatively normal only to quickly lose it. He resembles the normal Edward Teach’s first ascension but with the hooks of the second and wearing swimming trunks (and sandals). He appears to be skinnier than normal Edward. There is no real influence of Dagon on this form.

Second ascension gets weirder. He has started to develop scales that are multicolor but come in cool colors only. They mostly cover his chest but the colors spread to the rest of his body. Despite being more fish like, he still has all his hair. His eyes have become pure white. His hands and feet become webbed and clawed.

Third ascension is a very large departure as Dagon’s influence bursts through at full force. He is now a merman with a very large fish body with multicolored scales and three tentacles on each side. His human body is even more scaled with larger hands.

The fourth ascension’s art shows him in a lake, sneaking up on Bonnie and Read, Cu fishing up a Deep One in the background.

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Medusa (Assassin) Assassin 4-Star ATK: 1523/9138 Grail ATK: 11,064 HP: 1749/10,937 Grail HP: 13,260 Attribute: Earth Star Absorption: 98 Star Generation: 25.7% NP Charge ATK: 0.46% NP Charge DEF: 4% Death Rate: 35% Alignment: Chaotic Good Gender: Female Traits: Divine, Female, Humanoid, Riding, Servant, Weak to Enuma Elish, Summer

Deck: 2 Quick, 2 Art, 1 Buster 4-Hit Quick 3-Hit Art 2-Hit Buster 5-Hit Extra

She fights with her chains, of course. However she also uses powerful, fast kicks mixed in with the chain attacks. Her quick attacks use multiple smaller strikes while her Buster uses a few heavy chains, and her extra doing both. Ironically most of the kicks aren’t in either Quick or Buster, but her Arts.

Active Skills:

Mystic Eyes A+ Chance to Stun one enemy for 1 turn. Stun Chance: 50%->100% Cooldown: 8->6

Snake-Like Stealth B Grants self Evasion for 1 turn. Increases own Quick Performance for 1 turn. Quick Performance+: 20%->40% Cooldown: 8->6

Sand Fort Andromeda A Charges own NP gauge by 25% Increases own NP generation rate for 3 turns. After 3 turns, raises Attack based on NP gauge for 1 turn. NP Generation+: 20%->30% Attack+: 10% for each full gauge->20% for each full gauge

Passive Skills:

Magic Resistance B Increases own debuff resistance by 17.5%.

Independent Action C Increases own critical damage by 6%.

Riding C Increases own Quick performance by 6%.

Divinity E- Increases own damage by 95.

Presence Concealment C Increases own critical star generation rate by 6%.

Noble Phantasm:

Chrysaor Golden Sword of Summer Rank B Anti-Army Classification Type Quick Hit Count 8 Increases own NP damage by 20% for 1 turn if on a Waterfront Field (Activates first) Deals damage to all enemies Base Damage+: 500% NP Level 5 Damage+: 900% Overcharge Effect: Increases party's critical star generation rate for 3 turns. 100% Charge C Star Generation+: 50% Max Charge C Star Generation+: 100%

Her NP is Chrysaor. While Rider Medusa calls upon her child Pegasus, Assassin Medusa calls on her other child, Chrysaor. Despite the subname of ‘Golden Sword’ there is no blade involved. Instead chains bind the targets. Then the tentacles from the Chrysaor CE come up and surround them. Finally, the amber orb which Chrysaor was in comes shooting down, and the tentacles treat it like a ball, spiking it off of the enemies.

Stats: Strength: B Agility: A Luck: D Endurance: D Mana: B NP: B

Bond 10 Reward Shapeless Beach When equipped to Medusa (Assassin) Increases party’s NP generation rate by 10% while she’s on the field. Heals allies by 1000 HP when they use their NP.

Description: Summer comes to much of the Earth. Even to this small, shapeless isle that is home to naught but three sisters. Without trees or brush to provide shade, the island heats up very rapidly and very high. It is sweltering even in early and late summer, so midsummer is absolutely unbearable to most.

So in times of need like this, one must make do. While there were no parts of the island that were naturally sandy or perfect beaches, some deconstruction of the more worthless parts of the ruins helped clear up the needed area. So now the three sisters who reside here have a small beach, the most private of all private beaches. And on it they will rest, cool down, swim, and sunbathe-and for the elder two, some teasing of the youngest for her appearance.

Biography:

Default:

The youngest of the Gorgon Sisters of Greek Mythology.

She has long since escaped from the Shapeless Island due to summoning in a previous Holy Grail War, which also saved this particular version of her from the fate of becoming Gorgon. As such, Assassin Medusa is the most well adjusted of all her versions. Though she still holds some rumors of being a snake monster who petrifies those she stares at.

Bond 1:

In life, the Shapeless Island went for thousands of years with little change to its climate. So she never really had to differentiate the seasons, and therefore never understood the concept of Summer fully. But in the modern era, her home long since lost and summoned to Chaldea, she is quickly learning. And part of her learning process involves dressing nice for the Summer and going to swim with friends.

Bond 2:

Height/Weight: 180cm ・ 61kg Source: Greek mythology Region: Greece, Shapeless Isle Alignment: Chaotic ・ Good Gender: Female

Her summoning has been changed a little, possibly by her growing self respect. So she has gained a few more centimeters, potentially bringing her close to her real height during life.

Bond 3:

Still as beautiful as ever, if not more. Despite becoming an Assassin which you may expect to be a dour class, she seems more bright and cheerful, though still a bit prickly. Her favorite thing to do at the water park, pool, or beach is simple. Get some wine, a nice book, and sit there sunbathing while she enjoys them.

She greatly prefers pools or freshwater to saltwater to best avoid seaweed.

Bond 4:

Golden Sword of Summer Rank: B Type: Anti-Army

Along with Pegasus, Medusa had a second child, Chrysaor. Through proper rituals, Chrysaor could be summoned as their own servant. But in this young, not fully birthed form, Medusa can summon her child as a weapon. She lets it crash upon enemies, though she decided to have some extra summer fun in this form and ses it like a volleyball. Don’t worry, the child is utterly unfazed so this doesn’t make Medusa a bad mother.

Bond 5:

Sand Fort Andromeda: A Of course, covering a beach in a blood fort and tormenting everyone there would be absolutely unacceptable. So instead she used her skills, and chains, to form the mighty sand castle known as Sand Fort Andromeda. A mighty temple that is far more cheerful than her blood fort, and even holds up to the sabotage attempts of her older sisters.

Extra:

Even now, she is the only Gorgon Sister to grow. A fact she once hated. She still isn’t happy about it, but has come to accept it, especially as she formed meaningful bonds outside her family.

She is still beloved even if all those who worshipped her are long dead and forgotten. Though she is no longer worshipped as she is beloved purely by those in Chaldea, many of which are multiple levels of power above her. Still, Medusa doesn’t mind any of that as she feels the hatred that once overtook her cleared up. There is much less chance for the Gorgon buried deep in her heart to arise, especially on such a sunny day as today.

Description:

Medusa in dressed for summer of course. She is wearing a dark purple maxi dress with matching sandals. Her hair is done in a long braid. She wears purple sunglasses instead of the Gorgon Breaker. She is also carrying a handbag, which she shoots the chains from.

Her second ascension is, much like the girls up top, not Summer related. In fact her outfit would be horrible for the beach. But it’s her turtleneck sweater and jeans from Fate/Hollow Ataraxia, along with comfortable flats and her Gorgon Breaker glasses. Absolutely unfitting but if you tell me you never wanted casual Medusa in the game you’re a damn liar.

Her third ascension is back to swimwear. Of course from HA she also has a swimsuit, which she wears. She has ditched the sandals and is going barefoot now. She has back her sunglasses.

Her final ascension shows her sitting in a pool and laughing. In the background, a Shinji shaped pinata is hanging from the side of a water slide, tied up in chains. A familiar head of purple hair (AKA Sakura/Parvati) is off to the side slightly in frame.

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Boudica (Avenger) Avenger 4-Star ATK: 1700/10,500 Grail ATK: 12,750 HP: 1700/10,300 Grail HP: 12,700 Attribute: Man Star Absorption: 29 Star Generation: 6% NP Charge ATK: 0.79% NP Charge DEF: 5% Death Rate: 20% Alignment: Chaotic Good Gender: Female Traits: Female, Humanoid, King, Riding, Servant, Weak to Enuma Elish, Summer

Deck: 2 Quick, 2 Art, 1 Buster 3-Hit Quick 2-Hit Art 2-Hit Buster 4-Hit Extra

Much like her normal self, Avenger Boudica attacks with a variety of sword techniques. Though she also throws shield bashes in the mix, and in her Extra even calls in chariot wheels as projectiles. Her weapons all give off a black smoke when they hit.

Active Skills:

Wrathful Oath to the Goddess A Increases party’s damage against Roman enemies for 3 turns Increases own damage against Saber and Rider enemies for 3 turns Roman Damage+: 40%->60% Saber and Rider Damage+: 30%->50% Cooldown: 7->5

Roman increase of course. The Saber and Rider are Nero references as Saber is her preferred Class but Rider is implied to be her natural one. Does skip over Summer Nero ironically though.

Warlord’s Continuation A Grants party Guts status for 1 time, 3 turns. Increases own Critical Star Absorption for 3 turns. Guts HP: 800 HP->1800 HP C Star Absorption+: 500%->1000% Cooldown: 9->7

Rage of Andraste A Increase Party’s Arts performance for 3 turns. Heal party 1000 HP. Arts Performance+: 10%->20% Cooldown: 7->5

Passive Skills:

Avenger (Skill) B Increases own NP generation rate when taking damage by 18%. Reduces party's (including sub members) debuff resistance by 8% except themselves. [Demerit]

Oblivion Correction E Increases own critical damage by 2%.

Riding A Increases own Quick performance by 10%.

Self-Replenishment (Magic) A Charges own NP gauge by 3.8% every turn.

NP:

Chariot of Rebellion Chariot Against Those Who Eradicate Rank A Anti-Army Classification Type Arts Hit Count - Increases party Defense for 3 turns. Heals party. Charges allies’ NP gauges by 20% Base Defense+: 20% NP Level 5 Defense+: 30% Base Heal: 1000 NP Level 5 Heal: 1500 Overcharge Effect: Further increases party Defense for 1 turn 100% Charge Defense+: 30% Max Charge Defense+: 50%

Her NP is Chariot of Rebellion. Her normal Chariot stays with her but is powered up by her raging fury against Rome. Despite being fueled by rage, Boudica’s nature as a leader who cares about her people still hangs on there. She uses it to aid her allies, but to a far larger level than her normal one as it has higher boosts and some healing and NP. Maybe pushed too much as a support especially in a team with Jeanne. Lacks the Attack boost of Boudica’s post-Strengthening NP.

Stats: Strength: B Agility: C Luck: C Endurance: A Mana: A NP: A

Bond 10 Reward Fall of Rome When equipped to Boudica (Avenger) Increases party’s NP generation by 10% 20% chance to inflict a 500 damage Curse to Roman targets upon attack (3 turns).

Description: An event that didn’t happen until long after Boudica’s defeat in life. This is one of her largest dreams, the falling of those who brought ruin to her and her daughters and kingdom. In the clash between the victory goddesses of Andraste and Victoria, the winner was Victoria and her blessings on Nero’s army. But a queen can dream and imagine a world in which Andraste was the victorious one instead. Truly a world so different from our own as to be unimaginable to those alive today. If not for Suetonius, maybe this would be the way of the world.

Biography:

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The Warrior-Queen of Victory of ancient Britain. She has been summoned in an odd state for the Summer.

While she takes the form of an Avenger, it seems she only suffers its effects with Romans, especially a specific ruler clad in red. While around them she is driven by so much hatred she may as well be a Berserker. But when not in the presence, she is every bit as caring and calm as her normal Rider self. She also has a cute little rabbit by her side.

Bond 1:

Height/Weight: 174cm ・ 62kg Source: Historical Fact Region: Europe Alignment: Chaotic ・ Good Gender: Female She is somewhat older than her Rider form but still largely resembles herself so it’s hard to tell visually.

Bond 2:

Her love for Britannia is matched only by her hatred of Rome.

Its horrid people, especially its awful rulers, its pompous towns full of pompous people, its obsession with aggression and growth. A nation with a total lack of respect for any other nation, nothing good comes from Rome nor will it ever. Boudica could once stand it but after that terrible day with her husband, she has never wished for anything more than its destruction.

Bond 3:

Still young as she was thrust into control. Boudica has suffered for much of her life as Rome tried to take everything from her. Her kingdom. Her dignity. Her daughters. Everything. They took everything except her life. But that was all she needed to fight back. As long as she draws breath, the fight on Rome will never stop.

Bond 4:

Chariot Against Those Who Eradicate Rank: A Type: Anti-Army

Boudica has long held her chariot as important. Here it has been powered up more by the blessing of Andraste directly coming down, taking the form of the rabbit that accompanies Avenger Boudica. It is not for attacking itself, as it never was. Instead, it is a symbol of her power and kingdom and rallies all those who follow her in her plight.

It not only strengthens those who she allies with as if they were shielded by a phalanx, but heals their wounds so they may continue fighting. Ultimately it is a Noble Phantasm you may never expect from a being under the influence of the Avenger class, but revenge was so integral to Boudica’s character that embracing it like this had little change.

Bond 5:

As said previously, she is still the same caring Servant she always has been as long as you aren’t Roman. As such, she gladly accepted the invitation from the Master of Chaldea to go to summer festivities. Especially as a chance to bond more with fellow Servants from Britain.

A rabbit mysteriously appeared when her class changed. According to Boudica, the rabbit is an avatar of her goddess Andraste. Having guilt over failing Boudica with just her blessings, she has come to grant extra luck to her chosen warrior. The rabbit also greatly loves cabbage.

Extra:

Boudica is not just a warrior, queen, or defender of Britain. In many ways she is a mother to it. And as a mother fights to defend her child, Boudica fights to defend Britain. This time the fight may be reduced in action some as it is part of a summer vacation but her passion and heart is still in it to the full extent they can.

With shield and sword in hand and a chariot beneath her feet, she will go to war for her child. Then she will wield knife and ladle over a hot stove to provide food for it. She is a truly loving mother in every way.

Description:

Part of me wants to give Avenger Boudica a full badass makeover which if this was just “Alright and here’s Avenger Boudica” I would. But this has to be tempered some by the fact she’s meant for a Summer Event specifically.

First Ascension is her in a swimsuit. She dresses as she does on the Shining Goddess CE along with simple white sandals. She wields her sword and shield, not trading them out for something beach appropriate. As stated above, a white hair accompanies her though it doesn’t join the combat.

Her second ascension has her trade out the bikini for a one-piece that is green and blue. The green is a symbolic opposite of the Red that Nero is known for. Boudica has her long hair which is tied in a long ponytail.

In her third ascension, she has her crown and fancy shield from her Rider forms third ascension. She also has a nice gold necklace with a heart pendant on it. Her hair is now free. The rabbit is bigger and has some red around the mouth. Her weapon and shield both have a black smoke coming off of them.

In her final ascension art, she is relaxing in a pool, laying on one of those inflatable pool beds, Andraste resting on her chest. There is a sign with Nero’s face on it crossed out with a large red X. Boudica has gone back to her bikini but still has long hair.

#long post #fgo #my stuff #i am very tempted to make this four posts with 2 each as it's just so long.#i tried to balance what I could see DW doing any my personal tastes

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eirikrjs · 6 years ago

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What's your writing process like? You're so eloquent (even when answering tumblr asks ... the serious replies, anyway) and it's inspiring me to get to that level.

Awesome, I’m happy and flattered to be an inspiration! Never had my writing described as “eloquent,” so thanks for that! :)

So, I typically write for three different formats, each with its own approach but with some commonalities.

#1: Tumblr posts

Answering Tumblr asks first and foremost always starts with the good intentions to actually delve into the ask backlog. In reality, this almost never happens and I default to the first page in my inbox. It’s not technically writing but choosing asks is key to this whole process. I love ones I can answer in a sentence (or image) or two but many involve taking the time to research or fact-check. I like those too, but if they require too much of an involved effort they are more likely to go unanswered, as I only have so much time. Lately I’ve only been able to do Tumblr stuff after 11PM EST. Though I want to put much of the blame on Tumblr itself because if there was a way to tag or favorite certain asks for later (and save drafts of ask replies), I’d get a lot more done. But hey, it’s a site made mostly for sharing images, so what can you expect?

Ask frequency varies but since this is perceived as a Shin Megami Tensei blog, activity naturally increases around the time of new SMT releases, where I can get 10 or so asks a day, especially if I’m active that particular day. Since we’re in the middle of an SMT drought, activity has really dried up. I still try to answer an average of three per day.

As for my actual writing and style, I personally perceive myself as a slow writer. I believe this is so because in real life I tend towards being a perfectionist with most things I do. I proofread an average length post of 2-3 paragraphs at least three or four times. One of those average length posts will take me about 20-30 minutes to write, more if there are images involved.

Another self-perception is a preference for direct language and communication. That’s why I was surprised you called my writing “eloquent,” as I like to be straightforward and succinct, workmanlike. That said, I also am sometimes frustrated that my English lexicon isn’t grander than it is, so I often use a thesaurus to brush up. But it’s never about interjecting superfluous flair or purple prose but instead the right word that could stand in for three or four others and create better sentence flow.

#2 Long-form articles

Many of the articles I’ve written grew naturally out of Tumblr posts and asks to lengths that would be inappropriate for the Tumblr format, compounded with the problem of Tumblr’s limited (read: single option) image formatting.

When I start work on long articles, I usually go analog and write outlines and other notes in a notebook. Being away from a screen and listening to music helps stimulate my brain. Music is especially important but mostly for #3, below.

After jotting down what I plan to achieve, I often jump right in to Word or Google Docs and start writing the real text for whatever my head wants to spill at that particular moment. However, I burn out quickly here because, more often than not, I like to have properly cited sources to back up my claims and, like the Tumblr asks, researching can take a while! It’s not just about finding sources and pasting in the right quotes but understanding their context and ensuring they are used appropriately in support of an argument. It’s like every college paper I ever did, only I’ve actually cared about these!

Revision is key, as is being willing to trim dead branches. For example, from initial concept to publication, it took me around 10 months to finish all three parts of SMT’s Identity Crisis. Within about three months I had an article that was about 70% "finished,” but it was meandering and amateurish. It had a clear thesis but an inconsistent voice. It was difficult to do but I wrote a new draft that cut out much I previously thought important. It was the right call, the new draft, the current text, was clearer and better delineated. Subsequent articles have logically taken less time to write as I’ve gained experience with the format, all but the Odin one this past summer; it took me almost a year after I kept piling on new ideas, observations, and the silly notion to simultaneously reveal a website and a long-secret project.

All the same vocab and proofreading rules from #1 still apply, though scaled appropriately. I must have read the finalized Identity Crisis a few dozen times before it was published--and I still found typos much later, to my chagrin!

I treat article images as levity providers, something I hope helps retain reader interest throughout what are often lengthy documents. This is influenced by the humorous alt texts often employed by defunct gaming site The GIA, an outfit that probably made the biggest single impact on my games writing. Andrew Vestal’s Vagrant Story review not only convinced me to play the game, likely my favorite ever, for the longest time I considered it the standard for a game review. When I wrote the Vagrant Story piece for Hardcore Gaming 101, I deliberately included images similar to those of the Vestal review and alt texts (which HG101 typically didn’t or doesn’t use) as tribute.

#3 Creative stuff

I rarely talk about my original creations, if ever (I mean, talk about defunct sites--but I promise it won’t always be that way), but they do exist! I’ve been writing creatively since I was 11. Much of it bad, but that’s okay! (You’ll never see that stuff!)

We’re all influenced by the media we consume and I’m no different. For me this most plainly manifests through music, historically mostly video game soundtracks. In the past I would listen separately to soundtracks from games I already knew front and back to absorb the tone and mood of the music, which I’d then turn into various ideas (still mostly in notebooks, though that’s changing). For the longest time I thought listening to instrumental music was the key to promoting pure, imaginative ideas, but since Wisdom Eternal: 1973 is technically a period piece I’ve been listening to classic rock and having just as much luck inspiring the old noggin. It also helps that ‘70s rock influenced most of the game music I like!

The previous point made me realize something: when I criticize modern SMT, for example, I’ve also been unconsciously making the statement “I don’t want this to influence me.” Though, ironically, acknowledging those flaws has been hugely influential on how NOT to approach certain things. “We are what we eat,” and that equally applies to consumed media. Some of my older creative works that I now deem to be bad were the result of a limited pool of influences, mostly JRPGs. Very much akin to light novel-caliber writing and concepts, which are often similarly criticized for their extremely narrow range of influences too often focused on literal conflict and not empathetic, realistic characterization.

This post has been going on for a while, but one last thing I’ll say about my creative writing is just how slow the process can be. It’s slower than writing a research-heavy article, just because the idea or two you need to link certain plot threads can’t always be forced out of your brain. In my case, namely the subject of mythology and religion in a narrative, it’s not just writer’s block, it’s about being well-read enough to know (Y) about a particular culture in order to solve (X) narrative problem. Ya gotta read and you gotta read the right stuff, though what the right stuff is will of course vary depending on your own goals.

This was a fun ask that took me just over 2 hours to write, so I hope it’s helpful for you! Honestly, I could have said more but enough’s enough. That said, in the past I’ve tried adopting other writers’ processes to help my own only to find I couldn’t harmonize with their methods. But it’s something you’ll only find out as you write more and better understand what methods are comfortable for you. I can attest, that can take many years. Good luck!

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caveartfair · 6 years ago

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7 Zines That Helped People Work through Mental Health Issues

For the uninitiated, a “zine” is often defined as a self-published, small-circulation magazine that documents the happenings of a subculture or a niche topic. But in practice, the art of the zine is governed by “non-rules.” A zine can be consist of 40 pages, or just one. It can be entirely made up of pictures or feature no pictures at all. It can make sense, but it doesn’t have to.

During the 1980s, zine-making often involved taking a pile of collages, poems, essays, images, or doodles; lining them up, just so, over the glass of a Xerox machine; then making copies, and stapling together a series of printed pages like this. Copies might be shared with friends or left in a stack at a local record store. Today, publishing a zine can be as simple as one person creating a web page or as elaborate as a small editorial team collaborating on a printed periodical with a cover star. But the non-rules haven’t changed: If you make it and publish it yourself, and it has text, images, or both, you can probably call it a zine.

Perhaps because of this flexibility, artists and other creatives have found in zines a judgment-free space, and for some, it’s a prime medium for discussing serious, personal issues, like mental health. This point was made late last month when an art exhibition in India, organized by one of Time magazine’s 100 most influential people, Dr. Vikram Patel, illustrated how zines can help break down the stigma surrounding mental health. To explore the topic further, we share below seven examples of such zines, with insights from their creators on how these creative projects helped them navigate their own experiences with mental health.

For Girls Who Cry Often (2016)

Excerpt from Lina Wu, For Girls Who Cry Often, 2016. Courtesy of the artist.

Lina Wu, a Toronto-based artist and illustrator, collected stories and testimonies from over 20 contributors to create the 40-page zine For Girls Who Cry Often. “It’s a nice feeling to be a part of something bigger,” she said of the collaborative creation process.

For the zine, Wu focused on exploring mental health through a femme lens and let her own experiences inform her process. “For much of my life, I noticed that ‘getting emotional’ was seen as a girly or feminine thing—meaning it is often dismissed as dramatic and frivolous,” she explained.

Wu created a dreamy pink atmosphere to backdrop the contributors’ candid and sometimes dark confessions. The zine’s adolescent tone is a nod to the fanzines of the 1990s that gave teenage girls a voice. In fact, Wu points out that zines are accessible art objects because people can easily share and buy them (readers buying copies of For Girls Who Cry Often are encouraged to pay what they can afford).

An interdisciplinary artist, Wu experiments with poetry, illustrations, comics, photography, and design in her zines. And while she doesn’t bring For Girls Who Cry Often to zine fairs anymore, she noted that making it has helped her grow as an artist.

Fuck This Life (2005–present)

Excerpt from Dave Sander, Fuck This Life, 2018. Courtesy of 8ball Community.

Today, Dave Sander (a.k.a. “Weirdo Dave”) is a visual artist known for collaborations with Vans and Supreme. But back in 2005, Sander was cramming newspaper and magazine clippings into his desk drawer almost out of habit. “After I got a lot,” Sander said, “I thought it would be time to make a zine.”

Flipping through the pages of any issue of Fuck This Life is like witnessing the end-of-life montage people describe after a near-death experience. For Sander, zine-making can be an aggressively cathartic process: “You get to kill shit in your own way,” he offered.

Fuck This Life is a stream-of-consciousness compilation of found imagery—like the mushroom cloud of an atomic bomb or porn stars mid-orgasm—the result of Sander channeling his pain to “create a beautiful, loud, brutal fantasyland.” He refers to the zine ashis deepest, darkest best friend. “It was my reason for living, so I guess it saved me,” he said.

Grief Poems (2017)

Excerpt from Chloe Zelkha, Grief Poems, 2017. Courtesy of the artist.

Chloe Zelkha describes her father’s death as a “sudden, heartbreaking shock.” Within months, she’d printed out a collection of poems she found in books or discovered through teachers and grieving groups, then spread them out on her kitchen table. There, the Berkeley-based Zelkha began painting onto the pages, cranking out one after another in succession, without drafting or revising. As she found more poems, she created more pages. The result was Grief Poems, a 26-page exercise in letting go.

Zelkha’s introduction to zines was Project NIA’s The Prison Industrial Complex Is… (2010–11), a straightforward explainer zine with minimal text and simple black-and-white illustrations. She sees zines are an inherently raw medium. “That permission that’s kind of baked into the form,” she said, “is liberating.”

Poems by everyone from Kobayashi Issa to W.S. Merwin are coated in Zelkha’s uninhibited brushstrokes. She compared her process with child’s play or dreaming: “If you watch a kid play on their own for long enough, you’ll see lots of fears, feelings, ideas eeking their way into their game, and then transforming in real time. Or when we dream, and different people, places, concerns visit us in weird ways.”

Identity Crisis (2017)

Librarian–slash–zine-maker Poliana Irizarry is probably better known for their autobiographical black-and-white zines, like My Left Foot (2016) and Training Wheels (2013). But with Identity Crisis, the San Jose–based artist seemed the most vulnerable they’ve ever been. “My abuela suffered many miscarriages at the hands of American doctors, and her surviving offspring also struggle with reproductive issues,” Irizarry wrote. “Many Puerto Ricans do.”

Before the birth control pill was approved by the FDA in 1960, nearly 1,500 Puerto Rican women were unknowingly part of one of the earliest human trials for the pill. Between the 1930s and ’70s, nearly one-third of Puerto Rico’s female population of childbearing age had undergone “the operation,” often without being properly educated on its effects.

Irizarry made Identity Crisis,their first full-color art zine,during a South Bay DIY Zine Collective workshop. Personal and family histories intersect across fragmented pictures of succulents and Southwestern landscapes in a half-prose, half-verse journey through Irizarry’s identity. In just a few pages, Irizarry wrestles with intergenerational trauma and their own post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Irizarry speaks directly to their oppressors, defiant and resolute: “I live in spite of you.”

Shit I Made When I Was Sad (a.k.a. sad zine)(2018)

Excerpt from Shit I Made When I Was Sad a.k.a. sad zine, 2018. Courtesy of Malin Rantzer and Anna Persmark.

It started when Swedish friends Malin Rantzer and Anna Persmark were showing each other drawings and writing in journals they’d made while they were feeling low. “I noticed that some of the stuff we’d drawn resembled the other’s drawing,” Malin remembered, “and I think at that point we realized we should make a zine about being sad.” Rantzer turned to social media and put out a “swenglish/svengelska” (Swedish-English) call for submissions.

The then–Sweden-based duo (Persmark has since relocated to Portland, Oregon) made sad zine by cutting out and taping or pasting their artworks onto new pages, then scanning them and folding them into a booklet. Persmark sees zine-making as one of the most intimate ways of sharing her feelings; she goes out in person to share copies with her community.

“Even if all the submitters did not know each other,” Malin explained, “they were all friends’ friends or friends’ friends’ friends, and maybe that also can contribute to an atmosphere where it is safe to be vulnerable.” While making the individual works helped them heal, Persmack noted that the process of compiling the zine proved to be revelatory: “Sadness is both intensely personal and universal,” she said.

Sula Collective Issue 3: Mental Health (2015)

Oyinda Yemi-Omowum, An Emotional Response to Colours, 2015. Excerpt from Sula Collective Issue 3: Mental Health, 2015. Courtesy of Sula Collective.

Sula Collective calls itself an online “[maga]zine for and by people of colour.” Initially an exclusively online zine—different from a blog in name and ethos—it reflected its Gen-Y creators and their new ideas of what a zine could be. It’s one of the more visible new zines, among many, with the purpose of turning an online network into an IRL community. Ever since they founded it in 2015, co-creators Kassandra Piñero and Sophia Yuet See knew they wanted to dedicate an issue to mental health.

Sula Collective Issue 3: Mental Health sheds light on how teenagers of color navigate their parents’ more conservative understanding of mental health issues. “We wanted to discuss the things we kept hidden from our parents or couldn’t talk about with friends,” Piñero and Yuet See explained.

The issue was published in November 2015 and serves as a record of how today’s young artists are taking intersectional approaches to dealing with mental health issues. For example, Oyinda, a then–16-year-old Nigerian girl living in London, submitted a color-coded collage of self-portraits and textures called An Emotional Response to Colours. The literary submissions are paired with original artworks, sourced from Sula Collective’ssubmissions inbox, which range from digital art to watercolors. When asked about what makes zines a unique medium, Piñero and Yuet See answered, simply, “control.”

Shrinks: A Retrospective (2018)

Excerpt from Karla Keffer, Shrinks: A Retrospective, 2018. Courtesy of the artist.

Shrinks is part of Karla Keffer’s zine series “The Real Ramona,” where she discusses being diagnosed with and treated for PTSD after almost 30 years in therapy. The Mississippi-based artist found a sense of direction for her work, and Shrinks in particular, through learning about the Satanic Panic of the 1980s.

This phenomenon (which gave daytime television hosts the ratings of their dreams) involved psychologists across America fueling a nationwide hysteria by diagnosing patients with satanic ritual abuse (SRA) and sending them off to tough-love camps.

“Shrinks are human and fallible,” Keffer explained. “I had put a great deal of trust in their infallibility.” In Shrinks, Keffer created profiles of every therapist she’s ever had—like Julie the gaslighter and Jill the racist. Survivors of abuse are often—and paradoxically—burdened with the task of seeing through the abuse and saving themselves. “One of the things I found difficult was sorting out what had happened with each therapist—like, did she/he really say that outlandish thing?” Keffer recalled.

So much of zine-making is about reclaiming—reclaiming the freedom of expression, reclaiming space, reclaiming the past. And, as Keffer put it, “you’ve made your own book, which is not something you experience when you’re writing short stories and sending them to lit mags.” If any one thing can define zines as a medium, it’s the unbridled control it gives artists.

from Artsy News

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