#my understanding of heights 15 years ago was flawed

[athensandspartaadventures]

me for the 100000000th time "should i redo every character reference i've ever done AGAIN" and then i'm like ughhhh [looks at list of important characters i still haven't finished designing]

[twelvedy7]

Twisted - One shot

warning: sensitive topics (drugs). 

I just wanted to write something a bit different. It might be a bit OCC but I thought it might be a great fit for the manga universe.   This story won’t be published anywhere else than tumblr so feel free to save the story if you like it.

Oh and also english isn’t really my native language so sorry if there are incoherences. 

Takano had no sense of self-control. From a very young age he has been a witness of the sheer harshness of his mother and the complete indifference of his father towards their family. Despite how much he tried to convince himself of his difference he inherited from most of their flaws, which filled him with anger every time he thought about it. 

No wonder that whenever he met someone bright, kind, generous and appreciated he became more aware of his whole dark gloomy personality. That was the case with Ritsu he was still viewing today as the 16 year-old teen he used to be a decade ago.

No wonder that when he met this bright, kind and generous highschool kid he had become more aware of his dark gloomy personality. He was still viewing Ritsu as the 16 year-old teen he used to be a decade ago and yet he couldn’t understand for the life of him the reason why such a lovable person would waste their time with him rather than finding another likeable person that would be such a better companion than him.

If all the open rejections from the brunette could make him believe he hated him, he was at least smart enough to read between the lines and see what the other tried so hard to conceal under feigned anger and flustered reactions. 

What seemed to be like a bitter-sweet genuine love story from two ignorant teenagers who lost each other from a foolish misunderstanding was driving him straight into madness. Ritsu was constantly on his mind, invading his thoughts at any time of the day, reminding him of the terrible person he was and how he will never be nowhere near enough for him. Even in the poorly credible reality where the younger one would actually build up the courage to admit his feelings, he knew that their relationship was sealed to failure. 

One day Ritsu would mature and realise how incompatible they were and how idealistic they’ve been this whole time before leaving him to find another person that could offer him the support and love he needed. Maybe one day Ritsu would find the man of his dreams, different from senpai in every way, to finally live the blissful life he aspired to. That’s what broke his heart the most: they were not made for each other. No matter how hard he tried, it will never be enough because they were simply not meant to. 

He imagined Ritsu’s soulmate to be fun, social, caring, communicative and considerate which would make him forget all the turmoil he went through for all this time. His parents might be so enchanted by their personality that the fact they weren’t An-Chan wouldn’t even bother them.

The truth is he was physically and emotionally drained. He couldn’t feel a thing if it wasn’t his love for Ritsu and sometimes he felt as if that was his last tie with sanity. There were times where he would shut down his emotions. When it became too difficult to confront their inevitable fate, he would put himself in a semi-automatic mode working up to 15 hours straight without paying attention to anything or anyone, only accomplishing what he ought to.

Over time, he came to accept that he wasn’t able to love anyone without causing them a great deal of pain and suffering. That’s why he decided to distance himself from the few people who actually cared about him in his life and managed to bring him some split meaningful moments of happiness. It was like a lightning bolt shaking him from side to side, making him surrender to the hope of one day being able to spend the rest of his life with Ritsu and recovering from his long-lost friendship with Yokozawa. He hurt them both and didn’t deserve to be part of their lives. 

His phone vibrated. He broke off his thoughts to center his attention on the alias displaying on the screen: “Taisho” along with a message “I’m here.”

He stood up from the floor, came up to the entrance of his apartment and opened the door. A man of average-height in his mid-thirties was waiting for him. At first glance, he gave the impression of being a regular salary-man coming back home to his family after a long day of hard work. However, he came to discover that the man likely had a long history of debt behind him involving matters such as a costly divorce and low paychecks.

Not bothering to greet him, he pulled out 6,000 yen from his pocket and handed it to the fearful looking man who replaced the notes with a small transparent plastic bag containing a white powder. 

“Same thing next week?” asked the anxious black-haired man, his light blue eyes too faithful to be a dealer squeezing behind his oval glasses. 

“Yeah. See you.” 

Without giving him a second glance, he double-locked the door and came back to his dimly lit living room that felt so lonely without Ritsu here. It would take some time, if not forever, to prevent this heavy load in his heart from manifesting every time he would find himself alone without the prospect of his first love joining him any time soon. 

It still pained him… Nao came unannounced in the office earlier in the morning and asked Ritsu out for something that too likely looked like a date. A walk in the city center, a restaurant, and a nighttime exposure. That bastard. 

The rare times he had managed to take Ritsu out for a date was by forcefully dragging him out of his apartment or bluntly lying by message playing the card of ‘emergency’. He remembered the dull ache he felt in the morning as he realised how easy it was for his “best-friend” to take him out to a full outing while he had to prepare a strategy days ahead just to drink a coffee together. 

Opening the tiny bag in his hands, he chased away his dark thoughts and kneeled in front of his coffee table, pouring half of the powder out on its surface and realigned it in two fine lines with the help of an old credit card. He usually didn’t take such high doses in one shot, but tonight he knew that he needed it. The accumulated pain and overthinking were taking a toll on him. Rolling a paper, he brought it to his right nostril and sniffed the first line, ignoring the burning pain in his cavity before passing it to his left one and repeated the action.

A few seconds later he started feeling the tiny molecules flowing through his blood system, noticing the faster pace of his heart beat and the gradual relaxation of his muscles as the drug invaded his mind.

He closed his eyes. 

As always, the thrill was exquisite. The far away sounds of ambient city noises echoed and at some point the only thing he could decipher in the absolute silence was his own breath. His body was soft and any psychological pain he felt instantly disappeared. It was as if someone had covered him with a warm fluffy blanket while stroking his hair with a gentle grasp, providing him an endless feeling of comfort and security he so desperately needed. 

At that moment, everything stopped and all his troubles went away. Nothing mattered anymore. He was back being a young child pampered by a protective mother he never had with an unconditional sense of love. Pleasurable sensations coursed through his body from head to toes until his spirit went numb and he lost any notion of space and time. 

He reached that moment of nothingness that he wished could last forever.

___ 

“Takano-san!” 

...

“Takano-san!” 

Who was it? 

The voice seemed so far away he wasn’t even sure it was real.

“Masamune!” Why would someone try to break the silent darkness that was surrounding him?

For what seemed like hours, he felt himself trapped in-between the process of gaining and losing consciousness. He didn’t want to be drawn from his deep slumber yet.

He recognized some familiar voices in the background but it was hard to put a name on them as they seemed to continuously echo. 

It took him several more minutes to realise that people were present and it shook him. He became hyper aware of his environment.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a bunch of white blouses around him scampering around the room at a feverish speed. 

His mind whirled. The world seemed to be going so fast but his brain was so slow. 

His golden eyes blinked several times to adjust to the brightness of the room. In an instant he was blinded by the artificial light of the leds on the ceiling. 

In the chaos of all the fast-paced strangers around him, he felt a delicate hand fondling with the hair on the short back of his neck and let out a soft tired moan escape his lips. 

“Takano-san can you hear me?!” 

He groggily stretched out his limbs while burying his head on the petite body frame behind him and looked up to see who was the kind stranger offering him such soft intentions. 

Above him were two wide teary green eyes displaying a worried expression. Despite his blurry vision, he could recognize the refined and familiar traits of the man he loved. It looked surreal, having the both of them like this sharing such intimacy in a restless atmosphere.

Next to him was standing Yokozawa in his usual professional attire. He could only watch them through half-closed eyes all the while trying to figure out what they were doing in his apartment in the first place.

“He’s stable now. Overdoses happen regularly when cocaine and other powerful stimulants are added to the equation. That’s what producers do nowadays to boost the effects”. Said a firm feminine voice. He could see the lady in white gesturing around to her colleagues and immediately realised what just happened. She was staring at him, probably trying to jauge how awake her patient was. 

“You were lucky Takano-san. This could have been much more serious.” 

He saw his friend sitting next to Ritsu, his usual severe expression ruptured by the deep crease in his eyebrows. 

“How did you find me?” asked the raven, his voice so weak he wasn’t sure the two others heard him. 

The brunette brought his face closer to his ear, petting his forehead as he replied in a shaky shy voice: “Yokozawa-san found you like this…” he heard a sneeze. “The front door was unlocked and your phone was ringing without you answering it. You… You stopped breathing.” 

He felt absolutely miserable. 

Trying to shift his position to have a better view of his comrades, he caught the look of utter disappointment and guilt from his older friend. He probably thought that he was long done with this dark hazardous period of his life. 

“I’m… I’m sorry... I didn’t want to…” 

His battle to stay awake was getting harder and harder. 

“It’s okay Masamune. Just rest for now.”

The nurse took a hold of his wrist and stuck the intravenous line with a patch. 

“We’re going to transfer you to the clinic as you need to take several tests. You’re safe now but your body needs to recover.” 

The hand that was playing with his hair resumed and he let his head fall back on his lap. This combined with the liquid in his body led him to a sleep without dreams.

___

When he woke up again, he found himself buried under the sheets of a hospital bed. It took him some time to become accustomed to the artificial lighting of the room. Gathering enough energy to finally keep his eyes open, he gazed at the clock at his right indicating 4:55AM.

The first thing he felt was an atrocious headache that hit him with a massive chest pain undertaking his whole body. He noticed the numerous wires connected to his skin accompanied with the steady regular bips of a machine.

He heard a light snore on his right. Shifting his head, he immediately saw the small fragile figure crawling up into a ball on the couch. A cheap blanket was covering him from toes to his neck. This sight made him feel so terribly selfish. As seconds went by he started getting back to a normal state of awareness despite a fizzy pang at the back of his skull. 

With as much strength as he could gather he sprawled a hand towards him and rested it on the others’ laps. He stroked his thigh lightly with the help of his thumb and stared at his seemingly exhausted resting face. He felt so worthless. He knew he had hurt him badly in the past already and the only thing he could think of is that this was too much.

“I’m so sorry Ritsu…”. 

After reuniting with his first love following the 10 years they had spent apart from one another he had started to believe in fate. Yet he had been too trustful, using it as a justification for every one of his impatient and inappropriate moves towards the younger one. Everything became painfully obvious. This whole thing they had was destructive and that was mainly his fault. It was time to finally respect the distance that Ritsu wanted and deserved. He could not go back to these college years pretending that nobody cared about him. 

Now Ritsu would need him. 

Still, they were nowhere near close from getting into a relationship. Too many mistakes had been made. It was crucial for both men to work on themselves first as jumping the steps one more time would only bring them unhappiness.

That day Takano swore he would stop pursuing Ritsu. He’s forever been broken and finally accepting to get help was a start towards a less twisted life.

“It’s okay Ritsu.” 

One day they would be okay. They would get the life they both secretly wanted. 

[doberlink]

93 fun OC asks because why not ... 

LOOONG post ahead about my shamelessly mary-sue RDR oc Camilla Beaumont (née Lemieux)

Basics:

1. What is their gender?

Camilla is a young woman.

2. What is their sexuality?

She is straight.

3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?

The name Camilla originates from the Latin term for free-born and noble. Originally her father wanted to name her Camille, but her mother decided otherwise. She goes by Millie with her older sister.

4. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger?  Which sibling are they the closest with?

Camilla has two sisters, one a year older than her named Heidi, and another three years younger named Letitia.

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

Camilla is close to her mother, Anastasia, but her relationship with her father, Henri, is tense. As both her parents first-generation immigrants, she does not know any other relatives.

6. What would they give their life for?

Her family and those she loves. Other than that, likely no one. Camilla is brave but she is also afraid to die.

7. Are they in a romantic relationship? With who? How did they meet?

Originally Camilla was infatuated with Lem Fike, whom she met by working with his Aunt Maggie, but when her father ordered her to return home, she lost contact with him and never saw him again. Following the death of her sister Heidi, she grew close to outlaw Arthur Morgan and the two fell in love. The two met when Arthur saved Camilla from being kidnapped by two men. Eventually, Arthur proposed and Camilla became pregnant, but Arthur died before they could marry or the baby was born. When she returned home her father arranged her to marry Edward Beaumont, the heir to his father, a wealthy bank owner. The two were around the same age and remained married, having a child of their own.

8. What do they believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

Raised in a religious, though not very, household, Camilla believes in heaven after death. She does not know what this entails, and so is still afraid to die. She does believe she will see her lost loved ones again.

9. What is their favorite color? Favorite animal?

Camilla’s favorite color is soft pink. Her favorite animal is a horse, specifically her Criollo, Nutmeg.

10. What are some of their talents/skills?

Camilla is a talented shooter as well as a good actress. She also has a fairly good singing voice though she does not use it often.

11. If they could make a mark on history, what would they like it to be?

Camilla loves fashion and always dreamt of owning her own clothing store, however she knows this is not a realistic possibility. Instead, she hopes to leave a mark on the world with her acting.

12. How old are they? When is their birthday?

As of the Epilogue (1907), Camilla is 26. During the events of RDR2 she was 19, and 18 in RDO. She was born on May 7, 1880.

13. What do they do for fun?

Camilla enjoys reading books or poetry, and secretly acting them out, though she is too shy to admit this.

14. What is their favorite food? How often do they get to eat it?

Camilla’s favorite meal is chyne of mutton, which she would always be served on her birthday.

15. What was something their parents taught them?

Camilla’s first language is English, however, she is also fluent in French, from her father, and German, from her mother. Even when speaking English, she has a slight French accent.

16. Are they religious?

Yes, Camilla is Catholic.

17. Where were they born?

Camilla was born in Saint Denis.

18. What languages can they speak? Where did they learn these languages?

See 15.

19. What is their occupation?

Camilla stays at home to take care of her and Edward’s children. However, she is also a well-known actress and often travels for her work.

20. Do they have any titles? How did they earn them?

Camilla does not have any titles, but she was temporarily a member of the van der Linde gang.

Personality:

21. What is their favorite thing about their personality?

Camilla takes pride in her kindness and empathy.

22. What is their least favorite thing about their personality?

She is unhappy with how easily she lets her heart rule her head.

23. Do they get lonely easily?

No, Camilla is content being by herself, but she does not like to be away from her loved ones for too long.

24. Do you know their MBTI type?

INFJ-T, the advocate.

25. What is their biggest flaw?

Camilla is very headstrong and acts on a whim, often getting her into trouble that could easily be avoided if she stopped and considered her choices.

26. Are they aware of their flaws?

Yes, Camilla’s father has made sure to remind her.

27. What is their biggest strength?

Camilla’s resiliency and positive outlook. She knows when things get tough they won’t get better unless she keeps on pushing.

28. Are they aware of their strengths?

No, it is simply her outlook on life.

29. How would they describe their own personality?

Camilla would consider herself much quieter and more soft-spoken than she would like and wishes she weren’t so headstrong and stubborn in her ways. However, she is proud of her ability to empathize with others.

30. When frightened, will they resort to “fight” or “flight”?

It all depends on the situation. However, before her time with Mrs. LeClerk and the van der Linde gang, her instinct would always have been “flight”. Now, it varies.

31. Does this character ever put somebody else’s needs before their own? Who do they do this for? How often do they do this?

Camilla will always put the needs of her loved ones before her, as it is how she was raised as a young woman coming from a more conservative household. However in a life or death situation, Camilla has no control of her instincts and while she will always do her best to protect everyone, she may resort to saving herself.

32. What is their self-esteem like?

Coming from a privileged upbringing, Camilla had a superiority complex when she was younger, but grew out of it as she aged. Now while she does think highly of herself, it is more confidence than vainness.

33. What is their biggest fear? How would they react to having to face it?

While not exactly unique, her biggest fear is death. She reacts to it on instinct.

34. How easily do they trust others with their secrets? With their lives?

With those closest to her, Camilla trusts them with anything, excepting her father. Besides him, Camilla believes that if she cannot trust them then they are not someone she wants to be close to.

35. What is the easiest way to annoy them?

Make fun of something she cannot control. For example, during her time with the van der Linde gang, Micah and Bill would make fun of her formal way of speaking, which both annoyed her and made her insecure.

36. What is their sense of humor like? Give an example of a joke they would find humorous.

Camilla’s sense of humor is never at the expense of others, but can still be funny. She often finds herself holding back laughter when she sees someone falling or spilling something, though she would never admit it.

37. How easy is it for them to say “I love you”? Do they say it without meaning it?

Camilla is not afraid to show affection to those she cares about, but she does understand the significance of the words “I love you”, and would not say them unless she truly means it. However, when she does mean it, she is not shy to say it.

38. What do others admire most about their personality?

Likely her optimistic outlook on life, and how she never allows herself to be down for long.

39. What does their happily ever after look like?

Somewhere safe and secure with her loved ones, with no fears of whether they will see another day or have enough food to eat. She believes she has found this with Edward and their children.

40. Who do they trust most? Is that trust mutual?

Camilla trusts her sisters more than anyone. She views them as her closest confidants and knows she could tell them anything.

Physical Profile:

41. What does their laugh sound like? Do they snort when they laugh? How often do they laugh?

Camilla has a soft laugh and covers her mouth when she does, so as not to be too loud. She does snort when trying to hold back her laugh.

42. What is their favorite thing about their physical appearance?

Camilla takes pride in her clothing, much of which is imported from Europe. She likes to consider herself fashionable.

43. What is their least favorite thing about their physical appearance?

Her body. She is short and thin and views herself as looking weak and sickly.

44. Do they have any scars? If so, what are the stories behind those scars?

She has a scar on her right shoulder from when she was shot during the confrontation in Blackwater with Amos Lancing.

45. How would they describe their own appearance?

Camilla would describe herself as average looking, though a bit on the frail side. Nonetheless, she is fond of her long hair. She is neither insecure nor proud of her appearance.

46. How easily can they express emotions? How easily can they hide emotions?

Camilla is good at hiding her emotions, but if she does so for too long she will reach a breaking point and it will all boil over without her control. 

47.  What’s their pain tolerance like?

Camilla can take most pain, but she will complain about even the tiniest of papercuts.

48. Do they have any tattoos? What are the stories behind those tattoos?

Nope! This is over 100 years ago! ^^

49. Do they have any piercings?

Camilla’s ears are pierced. 

50. How would you describe their style of clothing? How would they describe their style of clothing?

Influenced by her mother, Camilla is very into fashion and considers herself quite stylish. She enjoys wearing soft colors with intricate details and long skirts. Her favorite accessories are her hats and jewelry. 

51. What is their height? Weight?

Camilla is around 5′3 and weighs around 100 pounds.

52. What is their body type? Are they muscular, chubby, skinny, etc?

Camilla is smaller than average and quite thin, her least favorite quality of her appearance.

53. What is their hair color? Eye color? Skin tone?

Camilla has light blonde hair, blue eyes, and is pale with a warm-undertone.

54. What is their current hairstyle? What have been some of their past hairstyles? Which was their favorite hairstyle?

As of 1907, Camilla wears her hair pulled back in a curled bun hairstyle. When she was younger, she would rotate between a long plait, a curled ponytail, and a half-up hairstyle.

55. What is their alcohol tolerance like? What kind of drunk are they? How bad are their hangovers?

Camilla does not drink heavily, besides a glass of wine here and there. However, she did once drink heavily with the van der Linde gang and was a bubbly and excitable drunk. Her hangover the next day was enough for her to swear off heavy drinking.

56. What do they smell like? Why do they smell like this? (Is it the things they’re around or a perfume they wear?)

Camilla smells of her favorite perfume, Otto of Roses. It was the first perfume she ever received, gifted by her mother, and she has worn it since.

57. How do they feel about sex? Are they a virgin?

Camilla views sex as an intimate thing, not casual, and would only partake in it out of love, not lust. She has only had two sexual partners, Arthur and Edward. As shy as she is, she gets flustered any time sex is brought up (so imagine her around the gang members!)

58. What is their most noticeable physical attribute?

To others, it would likely be her outfits, as she always puts total effort into them.

59. What does their resting face look like? Do they have RBF?

Camilla does not have RBF! Rather she often looks curious or unsure, as she is always taking in her surroundings. She is quick to smile to strangers and always greets them on the street.

60. Describe the way they sleep.

Camilla sleeps on her side with the blanket pulled up to her chin. She cannot sleep if she is hot, and curls up into a ball if she is too cold.

Environment:

61. Which season is their favorite season?

Summer!

62. Have they ever been betrayed? How did it affect their ability to trust others?

While not technically betrayed, Camilla certainly felt so when she discovered that Arthur was working against her father, although unknowingly. When she confronted him and he argued that she should have told him, she felt hurt and like he had gone behind her back (though she later realized this was an unfair judgment).

63. What is always guaranteed to make them smile?

Someone going out of their way to make sure she is heard or welcomed to wherever she is, as Camilla often has a hard time joining or starting a conversation.

64. Do they get cold easily? Do they get overheated easily?

Camilla does not get hot easily, but she does quickly get cold. She despises the cold and will avoid it when possible.

65. What’s their immune system like? Do they get sick often? How do they react to getting sick?

Camilla is relatively healthy, however, she did used to get a severe cold each year when she was a child.

66. Where do they live? Do they like it there?

Camilla lives in Saint Denis, where she grew up. She temporarily lived with Maggie and Lem Fike, as well as at a camp with Cripps. She enjoys the city and weather of Saint Denis, and for the most part, she enjoys the people.

67. Is their bedroom messy? What about their bathroom? Kitchen? Living room?

Camilla is a very tidy person, and with the help of her house-staff, she keeps her home very neat.

68. How did their environment growing up affect their personality?

Camilla’s childhood upbringing taught her to be quiet, proper, and a ‘lady’. She followed these teachings well, but of course, her temporary run-in with a life of crime went against this.

69. How did the people in their environment growing up affect their personality?

Camilla’s mother taught her empathy and kindness, while her father taught her obedience and to be seen, not heard. Her older sister Heidi taught her to have fun and be rebellious, while her younger sister taught her curiosity.

70. How do they feel about animals? Do they have any pets?

Camilla loves animals and had a spaniel dog growing up. She speaks in a baby voice to animals, which she is embarrassed of.

71. How are they with children? Do they have any? Do they want any?

Camilla is the mother of two daughters, Margaret Beaumont (with Arthur) and Helen Beaumont (with Edward). Before she had children, Camilla loved them and dreamt of being a mother.

72.  Would they rather have stability or comfort?

Stability. Having moved from place to place quite often recently, with much-unwanted change, Camilla would find comfort from within stability.

73. Do they prefer the indoors or outdoors?

Camilla’s ideal place to be is sitting outside on a warm sunny day.

74. What weather is their favorite? Do they like storms?

Camilla loves a warm sunny day with a light breeze, and so she loves living in the South. She enjoys thunderstorms when she is inside reading by a fireplace.

75. If given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

She would likely write a short story or poem, though the latter she is not very skilled at.

76. How organized are they?

Raised to be a ‘proper lady’, she is very tidy.

77. What is their most prized possession?

Her horse, Nutmeg.

78. Who do they consider to be their best friend?

Camilla’s former answer would have been Heidi, but since her passing, she would say Letitia.

79. What is their economic situation?

Camilla grew up in a wealthy household and has now married a wealthy husband. She is well-off and secure financially.

80. Are they a morning person or a night owl?

Morning~ she loves watching the sunrise and seeing the mist on fields. 

Miscellaneous:

81. Are they bothered by the sight of blood?

She does not get queasy or sick from the sight of it but dislikes the bad connotation that comes with it.

82. What is their handwriting like?

Elegant cursive that mirrors her mothers, whose she was always envious of.

83. Can they swim? How well? Do they like to swim?

Camilla can swim but she dislikes the feeling of being wet, especially her hair.

84. Which deadly sin do they represent best?

Pride. Camilla can often be too proud to ask for help or admit she is wrong.

85. Do they believe in ghosts?

As a child living in a big house with lots of shadows to cast, yes. Now, no.

86. How do they celebrate holidays? How do they celebrate birthdays?

A large festive dinner with family and family friends.

87. What is something they regret?

Not regaining contact with Lem after she left. He is her biggest ‘what-if’.

88. Do they have an accent?

Yes, she has a slight French accent.

89. What is their D&D alignment?

Not sure what this is!

90. Are they right or left handed?

Right handed.

91. If they were a tweet, what tweet would they be?

92. Describe them as a John Mulaney gif.

93. What’s the most iconic line of dialogue they’ve ever said?

Not really any, she’s pretty quiet! But here’s a photo of her instead.

Whew! That was fun! I don’t expect anyone to read this, but if you did... wow!

[missamcricana13-blog]

15 things ive learned in 15 years

i turned 15 two months ago and to be honest it’s been a journey but it’s been fun. even though i feel 7, age is good and time is good and growth is good. life is good. ♡

ONE:

not everyone you loose is a loss!

—ive lost people in my life i genuinely had no idea i could even survive without but every loss ive ever had has brought me so much closer to myself, and i am so happy i lost certain people—which is something i never thought id say

TWO:

own yourself, and don’t try to be someone else

—i believe everyone is their own person, being a twin we get forced together all the time but i believe everyone gets their own chance, their own opportunity, their own voice and to try to pretend to copy someone else’s voice, is not what you’re made to do.

THREE:

never be ashamed of what you love

—people always made me feel dumb for loving taylor, saying ‘she’ll never see it’ or ‘why are you so obsessed with her’ but taylor has given me so much joy and love in my life, and i am in no way ashamed to love her or be apart of this. it’s made me so happy to be apart of album releases, tours and the feeling of her being in stage is something ill never be able to feel outside of this fandom.

FOUR:

never turn down a hug or let go first

—i have given so many hugs that people tell me they needed, and i believe a hug heals most pain. and i remember when taylor said she doesn’t let go first, and i realize i have no idea how much that person needs a hug or when the next time ill hug them is.

FIVE:

check on people you love!

—i nearly lost someone so important to me recently, she had been in one of the toughest spots and i checked on her and she just let everything out, since then i check on her regularly and it’s made me realize i should always check on people i love, no matter how happy or sad they seem on the outside—i could not tell you how hard my life would be without her if i had not took five minutes out of my day to ask how she’s been.

SIX:

music can heal anything!

—breathe, afterglow, daylight, have all taught me so much, breathe saved my life. i was so sad, so shattered and i threw on old taylor swift in shuffle because i had been so upset and breathe came on, and everything changed for me, something clicked and i changed and felt so much happier. ive listened to that song more than ive listened to my mom in my whole life. (so thank you taylor for writing a masterpiece that saved me)

SEVEN:

my love for taylor doubles everyday

—taylor has helped be through so many hard years of school and so many tough times and so much anxiety, i have a greater appreciation for her everyday of the year, my heart is so full.

EIGHT:

do NOT apologize for how you feel

—if you’re having a bad day, that’s okay, if you’re having the best day ever, great, but you should never have to explain to someone why if it is simply life, life is so complicated sometimes but some days we feel horrible and some days we feel amazing. no matter what you are aloud to feel any way you need to live the way you want!

NINE:

moving is scary!

—today august 29th i move out of my childhood home, i move literally a kilometre up the street but had to pack everything in boxes and i had to go through the past fifteen years and sort everything. it’s scary, it’s a new chapter and im ready but im worried, im so happy to be moving but im scared to leave home, but it’s time.

TEN:

i love concerts!

—ive seen taylor twice, shawn mendes once and selena once, (fingers crossed ill make that four taylor and one sasha sloan but with moving money’s tight so fingers crossed) but the energy i feel at concerts, the happiness is something i don’t get anywhere else and toronto has been the place where all of my concerts have taken place, im so grateful to get to attend shows and im so grateful for all the joy they bring me. (shoutout 2015 hanna thanks for convincing your parents to go to the 1989wt)

ELEVEN:

ive loved taylor swift for eight years now!

—in 2011 at the age of 7 i was on my way to my friends grandmas house, the first time i had ever been away from my sister, and my friend was in control of the aux and she played never grow up, that night i went home and listened to every released taylor swift song and listened to our song so much i wrote every lyric down from memory, this happened in the span of one day! that’s what started everything but when i was about 5-6 i was at my brothers hockey tournament and we stayed at a super cool hotel with a play room and i took my dad’s phone to play teardrops on my guitar on repeat for hours as i mad myself a ‘house’ to stay in, and he got mad i definitely had to change the song.

TWELVE:

pain is okay! but always temporary

—in april the day after me! was released i got out of a toxic relationship, i was so heartbroken and had little support from anyone, it was so painful and i came home from school everyday and cried for hours. i was in so much pain but i realized i had to step into the daylight and let it go, and now i can 100% tell you im so so so much happier.

THIRTEEN:

teenage girls are the worst!

—being in grade 10 girls are awful, seeing the way we treat others and seeing the way we act together is insane. i see girls pick on other girls weight, height, face, skin, everything and i just wonder why can’t we all love each other. if you can love one you can love all, and if you can’t love all you can not love. i think so many of us need to realize everyone has insecurities and everyone needs to be loved so DO NOT PICK ON someone for anything.

FOURTEEN:

school is stressful but grades are not everything!

—ive learned to try, study and work so so hard but if it becomes to much take a break, if you don’t understand something, ask for help! help is there and you’re not less of someone for asking! it’s there for a reason.

FIFTEEN:

if you’re lucky enough to be different, don’t ever change.

—i grew up with a lot of personal issues and physical issues, but ive realized that theyre apart of me and it’s okay. we all have flaws, it’s what makes everyone so perfect. and taylor has taught me to love myself. and to not be ashamed of myself and i love her so much for that.

taylor, if you see this, please please know i love you and thank you for the past ten ish years, i wouldn’t trade you for the world. i hope to hug you one day.

instagram: missamcricana

xoxoxo thank you, hanna.

@taylorswift @taylornation

[nano-the-robot-blog]

A Vent

Hello. My name is nano (not really, of course), I’m an art student from rural Britain, and I really need a place to vent right now. I don’t know if anyone will read this, or if any of those people will know me, but at this point I don’t really care.

Since childhood, I’ve lived a very privileged life. My family aren’t well off but we get by, my father has always had a job and my mother has always looked after my brother and I. They have their flaws and we’ve had our arguments, but my parents really are amazing. However, unfortunately, that doesn’t grant me ease of passage through life - especially with the world in the state it’s in right now.

I know that I have it much better than a lot of people, and I have always known that. I tend to get things in halves. I have autism spectrum disorder, but I’m not nonverbal and most people don’t even notice. I have fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome, but I’m not wheelchair-bound. I have depression and anxiety, but I’ve never attempted suicide. I have an atypical eating disorder, not anorexia or bulimia (for those out there who do suffer with any of the things I’ve mentioned, my heart goes out to you. I may never understand your struggle but I will always strive to do the best I can to help, and I hope that you can all get through your respective hardships).

Now, as you can probably tell, I’m a very average person. Average height, average weight, average education and average skill levels. My brother, on the other hand, is a little less conventional. He has moderate to severe autism with learning difficulties which he was diagnosed with at quite a young age, and although he has yet to be diagnosed with it, my mother swears that he has pathological demand avoidance. He is also fairly tall and quite overweight, making him a formidable opponent.

These factors add up - the autistic meltdowns, the avoidance of any helpful behaviour and the refusal of commands and the sheer size of him - to make him an absolutely unbearable person to live with. He frequently attacks my family and I, both physically and verbally and with varying degrees of severity. It gets to the point, fairly often, that the police have to be called. My entire family have had to literally sit on his back in order to restrain him before, and it only gets worse once he is taken into hospital. At one point, he had four fully trained, adult police officers holding him down on a hospital bed. He’s had handcuffs, leg braces, the whole nine yards. It’s hell for everyone else in the family - and not just the humans. We have a menagerie of pets in the house as we are all animal lovers (aside from my father, though he does adore our dogs) and, though my brother doesn’t directly hurt them, the effect on them is clear. Our two dogs, one a huge Labrador/Rottweiler/Springer cross and the other a tiny Jack Russel/Pug mix, are utterly terrified every time he kicks off. They can even feel the tension in the air when we’re “walking on thin ice”, as my mother puts it, or when he’s on the edge of a meltdown. We also have three cats who don’t seem too bothered, although he has held up my cat (the oldest, and the smallest) and threatened to choke her before. I also have four beautiful young budgerigars who experienced his wrath for the very first time today, and it’s safe to say that they weren’t a fan. I’m hoping that they will be okay, though, since wild budgies will suffer much more worrying encounters in Australia.

Today, however, my brother went too far. He directed his anger towards the animals - my animals specifically - and me. My mother spent three days painting a gorgeous high sleeper bed which I only just got. I tried to help out, and I kept her company, but I’m just too sick to do such a physical task. Mom just naturally took over and eventually offered to paint the whole thing - even though she herself is ill. Like I said, my parents are amazing. The bed was a real labour of love for Mom, and she did an amazing job - despite the various hardships faced during the process. It was a real bonding experience for my mother and I, which was sorely needed as my mental health is pretty much non-existent at the moment. I’ll explain this as briefly as I can, just to give an idea of how much this affects me.

Recently, I’ve been suffering hugely with an atypical eating disorder. This possibly started when my ex broke up with me about two years ago, and very slowly built up over the past two years until recently, I stopped eating almost entirely and cut myself down to one small meal per day. The sudden change may or may not have been caused by my final major project in college, which I put my heart and soul into and which ended recently. I got the grade I wanted, but the residual stress left from it certainly took its toll, and my fate was sealed. I became more depressed than ever before and my anxiety, autism and (at the time mild) ED suffered the same way. I isolated myself from all of my friends, even my best friend - our relationship has been recovering slowly but surely from a very rough patch we had last year. I love her more than any other human, but I find it simply impossible to connect with another human being at the moment. My relationship with my parents is also hugely strained since they have to force me to eat now, and though we both know that it’s for the best, it puts a new barrier up between us. Another rather significant contributor is the fact that I have feelings for somebody I can never be with, and I’m quite sure he’s catching feeling for another girl who I’m also friends with, which simply gives me more reasons to distance myself from them. Regardless, back to the current situation.

It started small and simple, like all the worst things do. My mattress is in my parents’ room at the moment, as I can’t risk touching my paint-covered bed. My room also stinks of paint which makes it hard to sleep. My snakes are still in my room, though, as we couldn’t move them. My brother threw a cushion at me through the door. That’s all. I was lying in bed, exhausted and ill, and he threw a pillow at me. I said nothing, threw the pillow onto my parents’ bed, and went back to watching videos. A few minutes later, he threw a doorstop at me. It was heavy, and hit me in the hip, so it hurt a lot more than the cushion did. Again, I said nothing, and texted Mom to tell her what was happening. She came up the stairs pretty quickly, questioning my brother about it in a sympathetic tone. She knows him best, and is the best at diffusing situations like this. Like me, he said nothing. After a short while of her talking to him, though, he shoved past her out of his room and into hers, where I was still lying. I was hesitant to leave the bed, stupidly enough, because I wasn’t wearing trousers. However, my brother soon began threatening (nonverbally, of course) to throw his entire fifteen-pound body onto the mattress and on top of me. I wasn’t about to find out how many of my bones would be broken as I’m fragile enough already, so on request of my mother, I scurried off to the other side of my parents’ bed. He followed. I was hissed at to go into my room, which is what I did. No more than five minutes later, with me now holding a very nervous small dog, I hear a fierce BANG! and my door jumps. I’ve got an old door, one of the originals of our house, and I’ve never seen it budge before. At this point, I realised that he was going to break it down. Another few minutes passed until it happened once more, and once more was all it took. I stuck my legs out, thankfully, and caught the door on my feet, pushing it to the side. Thank goodness it somehow didn’t reach the snake tanks which were mere inches away, as they would have no doubt been shattered. We all knew it now; his anger was directed toward me and me alone. He kept advancing and my mother shooed me out of the room. I grabbed the dogs and hurried them into the utility, turned the light off and crouched down with them in the diffused light from the kitchen. He couldn’t see me, nobody could see me. We were safe. They all came downstairs fairly soon and my dad found me first. He said nothing, simply gave me a stressed look and went back into the kitchen. My mom then came out a few minutes later and informed me that my brother had backed himself onto my sofa, which is currently up against the snake tanks, and had started banging his hands on the glass. Any reptile owners well know that this is an awful situation for any reptile, especially snakes. Even just tapping on their tanks stresses them out to no end. They can stop eating for weeks, and if it’s bad enough, the poor things can even die. I did check the snakes after the whole ordeal and thankfully, they are all still alive and at least one of them is still ready to eat. My brother soon found my hiding place and started advancing again. I had nowhere left to go - my room, the only safe place, was destroyed. I just had to run upstairs and hang around for a while. I could hear him shifting furniture, and the occasional yell from one of my parents as he hit them. I know from experience that his blows are nothing to be scoffed at.

I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but somehow he ended up in my room again, but this time he turned his attention to my bed. Mom was appalled. The face she made was one of sheer horror; she had spent so much time and energy to get it to such a good condition and he had just ruined three days of work. She cried into my shoulder, weeping about the lack of consideration he has for others. I agreed, and we both muttered that we didn’t want him here any more.

That may seem harsh, to you. Who would want their own brother to leave for good? I would have agreed with you, if it weren’t for literal years of constant abuse from this boy, this monster. He’s like Jekyll and Hyde. One minute he can be a perfectly innocent child (he is 15, but his mental state is at the point where he is internally 8 or 9), and then within moments he can switch to some inhuman, unfeeling being of nothing but hate. He cannot be reasoned with, he can only be fought.

He’s gone now, they all are. Mom and him were taken to hospital in an ambulance, and my father followed shortly after. My snakes are alive, my budgies are fine and everything has gone quiet. This will happen again, and it’ll never stop until something is done - but that’s just the thing. What do we do? We’ve jumped through the hoops, we’ve waited years for people to help us and nobody will.

I’m going to be honest, I don’t want to seem like an attention seeker, but I genuinely fear that if this type of thing carries on, I’ll try to kill myself. Tonight put so much strain on my mental state, and each new episode increases that strain so much, that I don’t think it will be too long until I snap.

Sorry that this has been my first post on this blog. It was meant to be an art blog but I’m no longer going to be doing that as I’m completely rebranding myself. This will be a personal blog for me to write about my life - a kind of journal, I suppose.

All the best,

nano

[kylorenpunk]

Do them all. Suffer as I did 😂

Bitch I told you this was our friendship. We force each other to answer all the questions. 

1. selfie

Well… I wasn’t dubbed Selfie Queen for nothing… 

This one is interesting bc I have zero makeup on. The most recent ones are too blurry. A lot of my fav selfies are full faces of makeup tho. 

2. what would you name your future kids?

I feel like that’s a decision for both parents but I really like the names Felicity, Isabella and Dimitri. Yes, all of them are names from various franchises I enjoyed throughout the years. Be glad I’m out of my phase where I thought Vladimir was a good name. 

3. do you miss anyone?

I miss all my friends I don’t get to see frequently. Love all of y’all and hope y’all are doing well in life! 

4. what are you looking forward to?

Fucking graduating. Jesus Christ it’s taken me five damn years. 

5. is there anyone who can always make you smile?

From my club it’s Chris, Yara and Josephine. Also my entire friend group from back home. Honestly I love my friends so much. 

6. is it hard for you to get over someone?

I feel like every situation is different so that’s a tough question to answer. 

7. what was your life like last year?

I honestly don’t remember much from December of last year. It was a good time though. 

8. have you ever cried because you were so annoyed?

I’m an emotional bitch. I’ll cry over anything. I cried over fucking Mulan the other day. 

9. who did you last see in person?

My parents and brother. Earlier in the day my club. 

10. are you good at hiding your feelings?

I’m shit at it. My face gives away everything. The other day my professor was going into her inspiration porn narrative and I just gave her a cold dead look the entire time. 

11. are you listening to music right now?

No but I have the Hamilton soundtrack stuck in my head right now since that’s what I was last listening to. If you haven’t heard it I highly suggest it. Man I wanna see it so badly. 

12. what is something you want right now?

Sleep but I’m trying not to throw off my sleep schedule right now and am waiting a bit before going to bed. I only got three hours of sleep last night so that’s fun. 

13. how do you feel right now?

Kinda tired. Relieved that I got two service projects in a row done today. It’s been a long weekend. 

14. when was the last time someone of the opposite sex hugged you?

My friend Sebastian hugged me when I dropped him off. I guess that counts. 

15. personality description

I’m a makeup loving nerd who enjoys sitting in pajamas watching anime and superheros as much as she enjoys swatching EVERY lipstick in Sephora. According to my friends I can’t go 5 seconds without mentioning how old I feel and my love for Dungeons and Dragons. I’m also an asshole. (Wow this sounds like a 12 year old writing this)

16. have you ever wanted to tell someone something but you didn’t?

Yeah tons of times. It’s bitten me in the ass. Oh well live and learn I guess? 

17. opinion on insecurities.

Everyone has them? If they say they don’t then they are lying. Mine is mainly related to my appearance or how I speak. 

18. do you miss how thing were a year ago?

I miss how things were in the beginning of this year. It started off strong then kinda turned into a shit show. 

19. have you ever been to New York?

No but it’s my top thing on my bucket list. My friends and I are highly considering a trip. 

20. what is your favourite song at the moment?

Of all time: Get Low by Lil Jon 

Currently: “Told You So” by Little Mix (If you haven’t heard their new album I highly suggest it if you love girl groups that preach women empowerment) 

21. age and birthday?

22 - June 21st (She’s a Cancer)

22. description of crush.

I don’t have a hardcore crush right now. More like 5 second crushes that are over the second they do something I don’t like. 

Edit: Currently “celebrity?” crush is Nathan Sharp. I am seriously considering dropping $55 to see him at a convention this month. 

23. fear(s)

Heights, something terrible happening to my loved ones, wild snakes, and the usual common anxiety fears 

24. height

Five foot three inches. I’m short. Yes I know it’s not that short but tall people like to put me in the short category anyway. 

25. role model

My mom’s coworker who was my internship supervisor. She has a doctorate’s in what I want to do and is amazing at what she does. The amount of knowledge and experience that women has is incredible. She is also extremely funny and knows how to teach with a sense of humor which I appreciate. 

26. idol(s)

Celebrity idols? I don’t really idolize celebrities bc humans are humans and have flaws. 

27. things i hate

Immaturity, intolerance of differences, demeaning slurs, The Last Jedi, and the new Fantastic Beasts movie 

28. i’ll love you if…

Play with my hair, are kind to my friends and family, share common interests, show an interest in what I have to say, basically respect me and those close to me and we’re good 

29. favourite film(s)

Hairspray, High School Musical, The Greatest Showman, Stardust, The Harry Potter series, Avengers, Guardians of the Galaxy

30. favourite tv show(s)

Jane the Virgin, Naruto (fuck off I hate myself too ok), the first three seasons of Arrow before it turned to shit

31. 3 random facts

I’m not artistically talented but I genuinely enjoy makeup and creating looks

I have a nonverbal brother with autism and he’s my favorite person ever

I completely programmed my brother’s communication device by myself 

32. are your friends mainly girls or guys?

Now my friends are mainly girls but when I lived in Tampa 90% of my friends over there were guys (Hi Mason). I’m going to say that’s bc of us all playing video games in the Delta lounge (RIP Dirty D). But yeah now it’s mainly girls and 80% of my dude friends are gay. 

33. something you want to learn

Sign Language. Ice skating. Hairstyling. Fashion (I’m trying to be better about putting clothes together). Also I’m down to learn more about makeup and techniques 

34. most embarrassing moment

Either farting while doing an air guitar in front of my entire girl scout troop

or signing to my friend that I liked her friend at a party and his brother repeated what I had signed out loud in front of everyone

wait. No. When I F U C K E D  up in front a super hot guy while volunteering and then chose an 18 year old jock as my wingman. 18 year olds are dumbasses. Don’t use them as wingmen. Fuck you Khaled. 

35. favourite subject

In grade school I think it was English or History. It really all depended on the year. 

36. 3 dreams you want to fulfill?

VISIT NEW YORK 

Hike the Smokey Mountains 

Visit Europe 

37. favourite actor/actress

Chris Evans (especially when he is trying to fight orange president on twitter) 

Also Mark Hamill is perfect 

38. favourite comedian(s)

I don’t watch comedians often. I guess the Fluffy guy? 

39. favourite sport(s)

The only time I give a shit about sports is when my university is undefeated or playing my first university in football. Or the soccer world cup if it’s on. However I appreciate the skill it takes to do a sport. 

40. favourite memory

San Antonio. It was my first time traveling without family and it was the greatest time. It was such a cool city 

41. relationship status 

Single - I take my sweet ass time 

42. favourite book(s)

Eragon (No, I haven’t finished the entire series. No, I don’t want spoilers bc I will do it eventually.) 

43. favourite song ever

“Get Low” by Lil Jon 

“Look Through My Eyes” by Phil Collins 

44. age you get mistaken for

Last year I got mistaken twice in a row within an hour for a middle schooler. I was 21 at at that time. During my internship one of the parents asked me if I had any kids. I’m either mistaken as a parent or as a 13-15 year old. There is no in between.  

45. how you found out about your idol

N/A since I don’t have an idol

46. what my last text message says

“lmao it’s alright” to Joey but the previous one is more funny “thankfully no one threw up this time” in regards to my friend’s party last night

47. turn ons

Well I aint about to talk about my sex life so let’s go with personality 

Common interests such as superheros or anime, charismatic, easy to get along with, common goals in life, cares about their loved ones, has passion, and someone I can hold an intellectual conversation with 

48. turn offs

rudeness, immaturity, inattentiveness, bad tempers, superiority complex, not being genuine, judging others, treating people like objects, and general lack of care for others or themselves

49. where i want to be right now

Back in the smokey mountains in a cabin watching movies and anime

50. favourite picture of your idol

N/A 

51. starsign

She’s an emotional Cancer

52. something i’m talented at

Apparently I’m good with kids      Makeup too I guess? 

53. 5 things that make me happy

friends, family, nerdy shit, makeup and Kakashi

54. something thats worrying me at the moment

Some shit happened last night that has me worried for some friends but I’m sure they’ll figure it out 

55. tumblr friends

A shit ton of y’all I know IRL. I won’t tag y’all bc that’s annoying af 

Joey’s my only internet friend @earthschampion (answer my text bitch) 

56. favourite food(s)

pasta, empanadas, crab rangoons, taziki sauce 

57. favourite animal(s)

Meerkats and koala bears

58. description of my best friend

K @burnitstronger: realest damn friend you will ever have. Will tell you how it is and provide never ending love and support. Never understands my dumbass shenanigans but loves me anyway. Love you boo 

J : Will also tell you how it is and forces you to watch Naruto and ruin your damn life. Will happily go with you to eat junk food after class. Will fight anyone who wrongs you and is def still plotting revenge on all my ex’s. Stans Loona

M: Will scream at you in Leo in a frightening but loving way. Has the best damn fashion sense I have ever seen. Is the friend that comes by when I need her to and brings a shit ton of snacks and love (J does this as well).

59. why i joined tumblr

I was bored on fourth of July in 2012 and my friends kept telling me that this website would be fun. Also the avengers “fandom” from back then 

60. ask me anything you want

I would say I’m sorry Mason but I enjoy making all my friends suffer. Make sure to give him a follow bc he’s cool. @masonjar828

[expertfitnesstipsblog-blog]

Phil Heath Aims to Make History in Vegas

The saying goes that the more things change, the more they stay the same. And, according to my crystal ball, that will be the story at this season's Mr. Olympia, set for September 14-15 at the Orleans Arena in Las Vegas. For defending champ Phil Heath, I'm predicting another Sandow and another 400K. He'll be tied with Lee Haney and Ronnie Coleman as the all-time leader with eight wins each. And, as I wrote last year, ultimately I envision 10 straight victories for Heath, then the retirement announcement at the age of 40. With a record that will never be broken, mind you. Yeah, I know, it's a bold prediction. But how many times has the Swami been off the mark? That said, let's be clear, there are several great physiques in the Olympia lineup, and I would not be shocked if there's an upset. Surprised, yes, but not blown away. So, let's take a closer look at major players in the show, and who, if anybody other than Heath himself (should he fall ill, suffer an injury, or come in out of shape) has the best chance of stopping the string. The Defending Champ If Heath, now 38, comes in sharp, unseating him will be a monumental task. OK, there's been criticism over the years of the narrow shoulders, weak chest, bloated tummy, average calves, etc. From my viewpoint, I don't think the 5-foot-9, 240-pounder is that narrow. His chest is adequate enough. And he may have solved his distended-belly troubles with hernia surgery several months ago. People who say the man has weak calves need to move up their annual eye exam. "The Gift" earned that moniker by having few flaws, actually, and presents a great overall package onstage, set off by those terrific guns, deeply etched wheels and hamstrings, and a back that resembles a relief map of Brazil. Heath's full, round muscle bellies pop when he poses, especially in the front double biceps, and the quality of detailed muscle when he turns to the back separates him from his adversaries. The Top-Six Challengers Nipping at Heath's heels will be the second- through sixth-place finishers from last year: Mamdouh Elssbiay (or Big Ramy to most of you), William Bonac, Dexter Jackson, Shawn Rhoden, and Roelly Winklaar. Hey, let's add Nathan De Asha and Brandon Curry to this list as well. Yup, you got it: Seven dudes battling for the next five slots behind Heath. The field is that congested. Big Ramy allegedly "slimmed down" to about 280 last year, and the six-footer benefited from the change. Enough, in fact, that more than a handful of fans felt the Sandow was his after the prejudging. He's improved each year at the Olympia, so if the law of progression holds true, Big Ramy will be the big winner in Vegas next month. And, he's my pick for the new People's Choice Award. More on that later. Bonac, who has gone from a relative unknown to one of the best in the game in the past three years, made his Arnold Classic debut this year, and walked off with first-place prize money (130K), trophies, and medals. But, more importantly, he held off the challenge of Jackson again to defeat "The Blade" for the second time. Bonac, who's about 5-foot-7 and 235 pounds, edged Jackson for third at last season's Olympia as well, but in both shows Jackson stood biceps to biceps with Bonac and could have swapped places with him in many people's eyes. Jackson still doing this well at this point in his career is plain stupid! I've been hearing for the last five years how he should hang up the posing trunks. Damn, the 5-foot-7, 230-pounder (Jackson says closer to 240) must be using some out-of-this-world sun-tan protector then, 'cause he's still great at 48. And, don't forget, he's the all-time IFBB record holder with 28 pro contest wins. Rhoden has beautiful shape but an injury to his jaw last year forced him to miss 12 weeks of training. So, it's understandable that he fell to fifth last season after a strong runner-up finish in 2016. The 43-year-old Jamaican, at 5-foot-11 and 240 pounds, is the modern-day Kenneth "Flex" Wheeler when he's spot on, making him a real X factor in this lineup. Could he push Heath once again for the crown? I think so. This brings me to the beast. Nobody—not even Big Ramy—packs as much hard-core beef as Roelly Winklaar. Originally from Holland but training in Kuwait for the past year or two, Winklaar jumped out at me at this year's Arnold Classic in Columbus, Ohio. I had had him as high as second in Ohio, and two weeks later he moved past both Bonac and Jackson in winning the Arnold Australia. At 5-foot-7 and 265 pounds, the 41-year-old Winklaar could finish anywhere from second to sixth; the latter is where he placed a year ago. If Winklaar is really tight, this could be a helluva fight! The 30-year-old De Asha, from the United Kingdom, stands 5-foot-10 and carries 240 pounds of well-conditioned muscle on his frame. De Asha has been one of the fastest-rising stars in the past couple of years. He was 12th at the Olympia two years ago, seventh last year, and absolutely has the tools to break into the top six this time around. And, he's got moxie, basically calling out Heath to go pose for pose against him. So, judges, can this be arranged at the Friday night judging on September 14? Curry, eighth last season, is another one of those Flex Wheeler types…Pretty lines with great symmetry. Not a bad tag to be labeled with, eh? The 35-year-old Curry has had a great career, including a victory at the 2017 Arnold Australia. Both De Asha and Curry are top-of-the-line physiques who could easily crack the top six. Top 10 Contenders Steve Kuclo, Cedric McMillan, Juan Morel, Michael Lockett, and Alexis Rivera all have a legit shot at cracking the top 10. Kuclo is ready to break out. The 6-foot, 265-pound former firefighter should bring the heat to this year's festivities. A 33-year-old from Michigan, who now calls Dallas, Texas, home, he has the size and shape to mix it up with anybody in the lineup. He was at his all-time best at the Arnold Classic this year with a strong fifth-place landing. His upper body now matches his powerful wheels. McMillan is perhaps the most physically gifted man in the lineup, with height (6 feet, 2 inches), size (265 pounds), and symmetry. If he could just hit his peak, finally, at the Olympia, he could move way up from his tenth-place finish of a year ago. I was ripped by McMillan fans last year when I predicted he would finish exactly where he landed. We've all been waiting a long time to see the "next Lee Haney" show up in Las Vegas. Will the wait be over this year? I'm not convinced, but I could be converted. Morel, Lockett, and Rivera are very good bodybuilders. But good enough to land in the top 10 at this show? Not likely, but not out of the question. Then there's the feel-good story of the show: the qualification of Sergio Oliva Jr., 34, son of "The Myth," Sergio Oliva. The father won three consecutive Olympia crowns (1967-69), becoming the only competitor to ever best Arnold Schwarzenegger in the latter show. Junior is probably just glad to be here. This marks the first time in history a father and son both will have competed on the Olympia stage. The People's Champion A new addition to the show will take place where fans in the audience cast their votes. And those votes will matter! Fans will judge each competitor and rank them. The final decision, of course, will ultimately come down to the judges' selection. If the judges and fans disagree, the person who received the most audience votes will named be The People's Champion. Considering the dissatisfaction of so many fans over the past few years with the unanimous selection of Heath, I'm going with Big Ramy as the winner of this title, with Winklaar a close second. The 212 Division Defending champion James "Flex" Lewis has won the class six years in a row. The 34-year-old Welsh bodybuilder has announced his retirement after the weekend—from the 212 category, that is. Lewis has said he will take a year off, then move up one level to match muscles, shape, and conditioning with the big boys in 2020. At 5-foot-5 and 212 pounds (235 in the off-season), Lewis presents a great overall package of size, density, conditioning, and shape to be pretty much unbeatable. Not to mention the best calves in the game. There will be no shortage of challengers looking to end Lewis' 212 reign on a sour note. The likes of Ahmad Ashkanini (second last year), Hadi Choopan (The Persian Wolf), rapidly improving Derek Lunsford, David Henry, Jose Raymond, and Nicolas Vullioud all possess outstanding physiques. If Choopan in particular can make it to Las Vegas (Visa issues prevented him from competing at the 2018 Arnold), this could become interesting. The Men's Physique Division Jeremy Buendia, coming off pec tear surgery, is also coming off four straight Olympia MP victories. I thought it would be close last year…and he won unanimously. So, I'm not going against the 27-year-old this time around. Having said that, I won't be surprised by a Ryan Terry upset. Andre Ferguson and Brandon Hendrickson—second and third, respectively, in 2017—will also be factors. My longshot pick is Joseph Lee, who is improving with each show. He actually turned the tables on Henrickson earlier in the season after narrowly losing to him a week earlier. The Classic Physique Division Defending champion Breon Ansley is terrific, but last year I felt the title in this class might have gone to the amazing Canadian Chris Bumstead, who finished second. Of all the divisions in the men's competition, I feel Bumstead has the best chance of upending the reigning title holder when the final judging is completed. That said, the 5-foot-7, 185-pound Ansley followed up his Olympia victory last year with a win at the first ever Classic Physique competition at the Arnold Classic in Columbus. So, it ain't gonna be easy for his opponents to score the upset. That's how impressed I was last year with the 23-year-old Bumstead, who carries about 220 pounds on his 6-foot frame. George Peterson, third last year, is made up of championship breed, as are Arash Rahbar and Danny Hester. Rahbar was top five last year, but really showed impressive gains when he was second to Ansley in Columbus in March. Hester, the 49-year-old wunderkind—yes, he's even nine months older than Dexter Jackson—is, after all, the inaugural CP victor at the 2017 Olympia. Source link Read the full article

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Curvy model Hunter McGrady believes 'women are to be respected whether they're naked or if they're fully clothed'

Hunter McGrady at the 2018 Sports Illustrated swimsuit show at Paraiso Fashion Fair during Miami Swim Week at the W Hotel South Beach on July 15 in Miami. (Photo: Alexander Tamargo/Getty Images for Sports Illustrated)

Upon meeting model Hunter McGrady, you instantly feel her warm, kind spirit and infectious smile. It’s no wonder she has been able to champion so many women around the globe to embrace their curves, stretch marks, and cellulite. At just 25 years old, she is already a seasoned Sports Illustrated model and fashion designer, and she’s also a newly engaged woman. McGrady is on a mission to change perceptions of what it means to be beautiful.

McGrady is part of a growing number of curvy models who are making a big splash in the swimwear space, alongside household names like Ashley Graham and Tabria Majors. Recently, McGrady joined Christie Brinkley and Kate Upton in Miami to help with Sports Illustrated‘s model casting call during Miami Swim Week at the Paraiso Fashion Fair. The casting resulted in a spectacular, diverse runway show featuring women of all body types, including Paralympian Brenna Huckaby and a model who breastfed her baby on the catwalk.

These moments are monumental for the body-positive movement, and McGrady says they allow women to think, “‘OK, I am beautiful as I am, and I am worthy, and I am enough,’ and I think that’s so powerful.”

But as a plus-size model, it’s equally important to work with the right partners who champion diversity and inclusion, like Paraiso Fashion Fair and Sports Illustrated. “Paraiso and its partners are committed to empowering people to feel good about themselves no matter what color, shape, size, background, height, sexual orientation they are,” Sam Ben-Avraham, Paraiso Fashion Fair’s founder, tells Yahoo Lifestyle. “We used our stage to make the statement about who we are, how we see the world, and to scream to the world that we are living in times of inclusivity.”

@danielle_herrington_ and @bren_hucks lead the final walk of the #SISwimSearch x @paraisofashionfair runway show! ❤️

A post shared by Sports Illustrated Swimsuit (@si_swimsuit) on Jul 15, 2018 at 8:07pm PDT

“This year’s representation of models in the Paraiso fashion show was a continuation of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit [issue] messaging that diversity in beauty is very real and very important to represent,” MJ Day, editor in chief of Sports Illustrated’s swimsuit issue, tells Yahoo Lifestyle. “It’s something that we believe in passionately, and where better to celebrate that than on the runway in swimwear, where it makes so much sense to our brand!”

But beyond a few supportive brands and partners, there needs to be more significant changes in the societal mindset of what constitutes beauty, McGrady says. “I think that we need to continue growing still. … You know, we’ve always been told as plus-size women that we can’t wear certain things or we can’t show our skin, [but] I’m the first person on the beach in a little tiny string bikini,” she says.

McGrady’s level of body-confidence and positivity appears to be second-nature at this point, but her road to self-love didn’t happen overnight. She began her career modeling at 16 years old as a “straight size model,” she says, a size 2 and 6 feet tall. One day, her whole world changed. “I got turned away from one of my jobs for being too big. And so I … took four years off to really just  grow into my body, eat healthy, [and] nourish myself because I was so unhappy before. And during that time, I really learned to honestly and truthfully tell myself positive affirmations because our mind is so important and it’s so powerful.”

Favorite photo I took in 2016 for @treatsmag by @jamesmacari hair: @riadazar9 makeup: @christinecherbonnier stylist: @jenpatryn wearing @zanabayne thanks @steveshawphotos for breaking a mold and letting me be the first plus model in your magazine! 😘❤️ I'm ready 2017. Let's do it. 👊🏼

A post shared by Hunter McGrady (@huntermcgrady) on Dec 30, 2016 at 10:00am PST

These positive affirmations were central to McGrady’s success in achieving self-love. She says she would look in the mirror and say, “‘Hunter, you are loved. You are worthy. You are powerful. You are beautiful. You are heard’”

But not every day is easy. “I still wake up … when I don’t want to go get out of bed. I don’t want to do anything.” According to McGrady, on those days, the most important thing you can do is “renew your mind and really make it part of your thought process.”

Ok Body! 👆🏻 cute little lacy set by @shopcosabella 💕 p.s. ladies, you’re totally allowed to appreciate yourself. Don’t forget that 😉💋

A post shared by Hunter McGrady (@huntermcgrady) on Mar 1, 2018 at 3:31pm PST

After taking a few years off, McGrady returned to modeling at 19 years old as a plus-size model, signing with the agency Wilhelmina Models on the spot. Since then, McGrady has landed covers for Sports Illustrated and a campaign for Icelandic Glacial, and even launched her own plus-size bathing suit line. McGrady is proud of her body and all of its “flaws.” “The thighs that I once was so nervous about and that touched, they’ve traveled me around the world,” she tells Yahoo Lifestyle. “The stretch marks that I have signifies growth.”

When I was graciously given the opportunity to share my truth and voice with the world through this shoot, I chose my words deliberately, thoughtfully, consciously and responsibly. I know and understand from experience the power of words to hurt or to heal, to hold back or to inspire, to criticize or to embolden, to deliver or to bind. As spoken and written thousands of years ago, “You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free.” I wrote an Essay about this incredible project “In Her Own Words” the link is In my bio!

A post shared by Hunter McGrady (@huntermcgrady) on Feb 18, 2018 at 8:20am PST

Earlier this year, McGrady posed nude for Sports Illustrated, covered in positive words of affirmation like “worthy,” “confidence,” and “fearless.” Some were critical of the photo shoot in light of the recent #MeToo movement, but for McGrady, the story signified something much bigger. “Women are to be respected whether they’re naked or if they’re fully clothed. … And that is, I think, the most feminist thing you can say.” She adds, “I never posed nude because I wanted anything more than to make women feel good about themselves and feel empowered because I felt empowered. And I felt sexy. I feel more comfortable naked than I do with clothes on. And I deserve the same respect … as anyone else.”

Read more from Yahoo Lifestyle:

Meghan Markle wore a $3,103 denim dress — shop 10 versions like hers for a lot less

Meet the Mormon model siblings who are taking on the Hadids

Who is Anita Dongre? The fashion designer who has dressed Hillary Clinton, Kate Middleton, and Sophie Trudeau

Follow us on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter for nonstop inspiration delivered fresh to your feed, every day.

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Made in India: How Covid-19 is changing the luxe living room

New Post has been published on https://apzweb.com/made-in-india-how-covid-19-is-changing-the-luxe-living-room/

Made in India: How Covid-19 is changing the luxe living room

A pop chair, covered in brass ‘fur’ and nautical resin ‘wood grains’, was to be one of the highlights of Scarlet Splendour’s newest collection — a collaboration with Italian designer Marcantonio, the man behind some of Seletti’s and Qeeboo’s iconic designs. The line didn’t get its due with Milan’s popular annual furniture fair, Salone del Mobile, getting cancelled. But Ashish Bajoria, co-founder of the Kolkata-based luxury brand, isn’t despondent; he’s actually in high spirits. “Since the lockdown started, in just 20 days we closed orders equal to our last year’s turnover!” he tells me over the phone.

This “big boom” is a reaction to the ground reality in countries like Italy, the capital of luxury furniture, where factories are just reopening, and also anticipating possible hardships in importing goods. The uber wealthy have traditionally looked westward for their interiors, with brands like B&B Italia, Poliform, Flos, Fontana Arte, Fendi, Baxter and Poltrona Frau being firm favourites. But today’s new normal means that many interior designers and clients are looking homeward. “This is the best time for [luxury furniture and accessories brands] in India,” adds Bajoria. “It is the ideal time to step up our game, bring out the best quality, and show customers that they aren’t missing out on anything by buying local.”

Interior designer Vinita Chaitanya  

The time is now

This is not a new trend, of course. In the last few years, there has been an increased appreciation among well-travelled, internationally-minded designers like Abu Jani-Sandeep Khosla, Tarun Tahiliani and Vikram Phadke for Indian brands that are upping their quality standards, showcasing at top global fairs and catering to international expectations. Bengaluru-based interior designer Vinita Chaitanya, whose plush penthouses and bungalows for clients like actor Deepika Padukone and entrepreneur Kiran Mazumdar have always incorporated Indian accents, recalls a recent project for a city-based billionaire. “[A purveyor of European luxury] he was blown away by the Indian designs I introduced him to, from brands like Viya Home, Taanaaz and Jaipur Trunks Company. He took his guests around, boasting how well they blended with his Italian furnishing,” she says.

With visits to Italy and France, once a prerequisite for any new project, now on hold indefinitely — and the usual three-month wait for imports [sofas, kitchens, wardrobes] being “pushed by another three months or more” — Chaitanya adds that clients are more open in the current scenario to looking at pieces made locally. “This is our time; and people in my fraternity are realising it. Italy may be ahead in terms of technique — they have generations of expertise — but what we can be proud of is our craft.”

The Ring Sofa by Bengaluru-based designer, Sandeep Sangaru  

All about scale

The need of the hour is for local brands to pull up their socks and understand what customers are used to in terms of luxury. “It is a great opportunity for designers to be seen,” says Mumbai-based interior and product designer Rooshad Shroff, whose hand carved marble tube lights — launched last November at Raw Collaborative — is now finding more luxury homes. A challenge, however, is that, except for a few brands like luxury furniture makes alsorg, many still struggle with manufacturing capabilities. “This, coupled with the fact that we produce at a smaller scale, hinders us from making the same quality and quantity as the Italians,” he adds. This is what we need to pay attention to in the days to come.

For Indian brands and product designers, the next step is to get scale. Twenty five years ago, there were hardly any designers, then [what was missing was] production capabilities. Now, in the past 10 years, they have established themselves and there’s great quality, but unless there’s scale, and more Indians buying, how can they grow? Priya Paul, CEO, The Park Hotels

“The biggest advantage Italy has is that their luxury manufacturing started hundreds of years ago; they’ve already perfected the art. In India, we’ve only got into it in the last 10-15 years. But over the next 10 years or so, I think we will see more homegrown brands that will reach the heights of the Italians, French, Germans or Scandinavians,” says Yogesh Chaudhary, director of Jaipur Rugs Group.

Another positive: the renewed interest in sustainability, meaningful purchases and support of all things local in the wake of the pandemic and its far-reaching ripples. “A lot of things we thought of as luxurious will now become frivolous. There will be more thought applied to what one buys — handcrafted, labour-intensive,” says Chaitanya. But at the same time, she wonders if we will quickly forget all that has happened. “Maybe a few months from now, my clients will say ‘let’s go to Italy and explore’,” she laughs. “But at least there is a move towards local at the moment. And for a lot of us, that’s heart-warming.”

— With inputs from Susanna Myrtle Lazarus and Nidhi Adlakha

Clockwise from top left: Copacabana Cocktail Table, Sakura Coffee Table, and co-founder Vikram Goyal  

Viya Home, New Delhi

With a global, India agnostic aesthetic — and collaborations with top interior designers like Christian Louboutin (France) and Kelly Hoppen (the UK) in its portfolio — Viya Home mixes genres, inspirations and techniques. Think a Tree of Life with both Oriental and Mughal references: traditional borders filled with scenes from Japanese and Chinese textiles. “Our new collection, Earth, takes inspiration from flora and fauna [drawn from old botanical prints and etchings], and works with them in a modern way, using semi-precious materials in their raw forms,” says co-founder Vikram Goyal. The Sakura table is a stunning example, with its Brutalist style and raw agate. Prices from ₹1.5 lakh. Details: viyahome.com

Clockwise from left: The Moonshadow Vase (made using Manipur’s Longpi pottery technique), Ashiesh Shah, and Channapatna stools  

The India Design Fund

One hundred products are being curated by Ashiesh Shah for The India Design Fund’s collaborative online sale with StoryLtd by Saffronart. The funds (and patron donations) will be directed towards charities working on ground with artisan communities who have been severely impacted by Covid-19 — to help improve life and safety standards, and nurture indigenous design and craftsmanship. The names featured include designer-sculptor Dashrath Patel, furniture designer Gunjan Gupta, designer Sabyasachi Mukherjee, and brands such as Raw Mango, Klove, Scarlet Splendour and Trunks Company. From May 14 to 20, on storyltd.com.

Atelier Ashiesh Shah, Mumbai

The two and a half-year-old Mumbai atelier works with craft villages across India to create high-end luxury products. “We’ve used bidri from Karnataka, Jaipur blue pottery and marble work, white pottery from Kutch, among others, to make objects such as sofas, stools, lights and plates. “This is the future of Indian design — working inherently and cohesively with our craft and artisans,” says Ashiesh Shah. Highlights include Channapatna and Longpi stools and the Blue Totem showcased at the AD Design Fair. Prices from ₹5,000 to ₹4 lakh. Details: ashieshshah.com

Clockwise from top left: The Gorilla Chair by Marcantonio, Elena Salmistraro’s Chhau Cabinet, Marcantonio’s Forest Chair, and co-founder Ashish Bajoria  

Scarlet Splendour, Kolkata

The craft-led contemporary brand treasures each of its pieces like jewellery. Even a scratch isn’t permissible. “We walk the shop floor with a hammer and break anything that’s flawed. It is painful, but with it comes results,” says co-founder Ashish Bajoria. This attention to detail — and collabs with renowned designers like Matteo Cibic (Italy) and Nika Zupanc (Slovenia) — has given it a contemporary, often whimsical, expression. “In two weeks, we will be launching a line by Milanese designer Elena Salmistraro, who took inspiration from Indian dance forms like Chhau and Bharatanatyam to make her pieces.” Also expect a new series of faux marble surfaces. Prices from ₹1 lakh. Details: scarletsplendour.com

Clockwise from left: Baori, Royal Treasure, and Yogesh Chaudhary  

Jaipur Rugs, Jaipur

Four days ago, they launched their latest collection, Concoction — a 12-piece collab with Shantanu Garg that “includes graphical inspirations from the Bauhaus movement” — digitally. Also available is Kolam, a line by architect Sandeep Khosla and partner Tania Singh Khosla. “We are anticipating even more conscious and sustainable buying practices now,” says director Yogesh Chaudhary. “Our artisans, who work from home, are busy hand-knotting and weaving both old and new collections.” Prices from₹50,000. Details: jaipurrugs.com

Founders Gautam Seth and Prateek Jain, and Protection (handblown glass and metal) from the Totems Over Time collection  

Klove, New Delhi

“Through the lockdown, there has been a sudden spike of enquiries from India, especially for bigger projects like hotels,” says co-founder Prateek Jain, adding that Italian brands and plagiarised products from China have been their biggest competition so far. While they aren’t planning new launches — “celebrating something new in a market where sentiments are unsure is not right” — they are consolidating their business. “Our factories in Haryana have started operating in a controlled manner since last Monday,” he adds. Check out their Goa and Totem collections. Prices from ₹5 lakh. Details: klovestudio.com

Vincent Roy and a few examples of his Scandinavian, mid-century furniture  

Wood’n Design, Puducherry

Known for their Scandinavian, mid-century furniture, founder Vincent Roy says “people are still placing orders”. He expects customers to look for affordable pieces because most are mindful of finances now. “They will go for minimal, ergonomic designs. The aesthetic will have to be light.” Expect a new line of furniture inspired by tools. “It won’t be obvious, but a professional furniture maker will understand the link,” he says, adding that, going forward, he will be doing more mini collections. Prices from ₹10,000. Details: woodndesign.in

From left: Taannaz 27” Trinity-chased Escutcheon, the Tiger Eye collection, and Mahesh Tanna  

Taannaz Bronzze, Mumbai

Door frames and handles, those ��invisible’ elements, take on a life of their own with Taannaz. “We work with bronze and hand carving is our speciality,” says co-founder Mahesh Tanna, whose artisans are fifth generation gem and stone carvers from Aligarh, Moradabad and Jaipur. A stand-out piece: an engraved handle inspired by a piece of Tiffany jewellery that they created for architect Nozer Wadia. “For a recent project, we made bronze door frames [bordered with rock crystal] and a contemporary base for a marble dining table.” Prices from ₹75,000. Details: taannaz.in

Semul pillows, Akanksha Himatsingka and Shivalik bed sheets  

Himêya, Bengaluru

“Thread counts are a myth,” begins Akanksha Himatsingka. Who knew! “Higher thread counts mean doubling the yarn, which makes it thicker and heavier. Bedding is supposed to be light and breathable,” adds the CEO of the one-year-old brand that expands on the culture of sustainability. “We create emotion-led collections. Our third one [to be launched soon] is Vitamin D, in collaboration with Nimish Shah of Bhaane.” Expect cotton-linen jacquard with tone-on-tone nature impressions, and a gamcha with a twist (with a terry back). Prices from ₹1,099. Details: himeyalife.com

Clockwise from top left: God, the Monolith Family and Nikhil Paul  

Paul Matter, New Delhi

Stocked at galleries such as The Gard in LA and Bazar Noir in Berlin, this handmade lighting brand’s attention to detail is beyond compare. “We have a thorough quality check at every stage and our artisans know even a piece that goes inside [and can’t be seen] has to be finished,” says designer-founder Nikhil Paul. Using natural materials like glass, copper and stone, they employ age-old craft techniques to create a contemporary aesthetic. “Expect new iterations of Monolith — a symbolic line inspired by the lingam — in terracotta.” Prices from ₹60,000. Details: paulmatter.com

Clockwise from top left: Leaf Platters, Kunaal Kyhaan Seolekar, the Bamboo Round Sofa and accessories  

Koy Store, Pune

Architect and product designer Kunaal Kyhaan Seolekar is known for his contemporary take on Indian materiality. “I use wood, marble, fibre, etc, and many of my designs evolve from iconic Indian forms like the matka or lingam,” he says, adding that his artisans also inspire his work. “One of my teams of marble carvers used to make balustrades. So I incorporated that into my Cosmos Table, with its multiple legs crafted from the various coloured marbles you find in India.” Prices from ₹20,000 to ₹1 lakh. Details: koy.store

Rooshad Shroff and his handcarved Makrana marble tube light and bulb  

Rooshad Shroff, Mumbai

Board games are on Shroff’s mind. “I’ve designed a series of three — a chess board, Ludo and Snakes and Ladders — and even found someone with a 3D printer set up in his bedroom, to help me understand how it will look,” he says. Some of his artisans are already sampling it in marble and wood. The designer is also using this time to press blooms (for his pressed flower furniture) so that he has a library ready for production. Meanwhile, place orders for his carved marble tube lights (from ₹58,000). Details: rooshadshroff.com

The Carpet Cellar, New Delhi

With seven new collections every year, the brand is championing a mission to revive old natural dyeing, spinning and weaving processes. “At the moment, we are working on recreating 17th century Persian Safavid carpets. We’ve innovated a relief work technique with silk and wool, which gives it a 3D effect,” explains co-founder Nishant Chandra. “I see the trend going towards the artisanal, handmade, locally-sourced products.” Prices from ₹15,000. Details: carpetcellar.com

Clockwise from top: The Oracle, Wing Sofa and founder Sandeep Sangaru  

Sandeep Sangaru, Bengaluru

Sangaru’s minimal style finds expression in furniture and products that use traditional Indian techniques, such as walnut wood carving, Khatumbandh from Kashmir, turned wood from Channapatna, and bamboo craft from Tripura. “I am working on a few bespoke projects now, where I am exploring other crafts, including leather puppetry from Andhra Pradesh, papier-mâché, and Kashmir’s boat making craft.” He is also developing a new furniture collection with larger, more sculptural designs. Prices from ₹12,000 (lights). Details: sangaru.com

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Signs That Your Home's Interior Needs A New Paint Job Things To Know Before You Get This

Table of ContentsThe 8-Second Trick For 2020 Interior Painting Costs - Average Cost To Paint A RoomThe Main Principles Of How Much Should It Cost To Paint The Interior Of A 3000 Sq Foot ... Facts About Interior House Painters Denver - Residential Painting Contractor UncoveredUnknown Facts About How Often Should I Paint The Interior Of My Home?Excitement About Lessons Learned While Painting An Entire House - A Beautiful ...

Spills and spatters take place, regardless of how mindful you are. It's a lot easier to pre- pare for them than to wipe them out of your carpets or off your wood floor later on. All it takes is canvas drop cloths in your workspace (a 4-ft. x 15-ft. fabric costs $15).

Plastic drop cloths are slippery to stroll on or set a ladder on and do not remain in place. Even even worse, paint spills on plastic stay wet, and they can wind up on your shoes and get tracked through the home. Canvas is slippery on difficult oors, so rosin paper ($ 10 for 400 sq.

in the house centers) is better over vinyl, tile and tough- wood. Tape the sheets together and to the oor to supply a nonslip surface area. But even with canvas or rosin-paper drop cloths, large spills still require to get wiped up immediately or they'll permeate through. Tidy spills with paper towels or fabric rags.

The Definitive Guide to How Often Should You Paint Your House - The Digest

The finish of your paint, or shine, will have a significant impact on your walls. Gloss, satin, egg shell with these options comes many considerations. High-traffic areas succeed with gloss or satin as they hold up much better to touching and can be cleaned up more easily. But, they can make wall flaws (wavy drywall, covered areas) a lot more pronounced.

Don't fear the vibrant colors! Select colors that add depth and texture to a room. Comprehend the psychology of color and utilize it to your benefit. A relaxing color, such as one in the blue household, is terrific for a bedroom. No requirement to guess how excellent (or bad) a color will search your wall.

This will help you evaluate how a color will search a larger area much better than an example can offer. It's much better to spend just a couple of dollars on a sample than big bucks on gallons only to learn the color won't work. Of course, you'll need to understand the overall location you're going to paint (include up all the square video footage of your walls, consisting of alcoves and dormers, plus a little extra), however you'll likewise need to represent multiple coats, guide and the porosity of the walls.

All about Interior Painters - Wow 1 Day Painting

Preparation work will be the vast bulk of your time spent painting the interior of your house - interior paint on sale this week. You'll require to tape off areas for sharp lines, move furnishings and home furnishings, repair work and spot any imperfections, protect the floors, and eliminate things like switch plates and doorknobs. A minimum of three-quarters of your time will be invested doing these jobs.

Guide not only covers up colors and stains, it also includes a layer to allow the top coat of paint to much better adhere, providing you a far better result. interior paint on sale this week. Cutting in (painting at corners and edges) enables smoother work when utilizing rollers or bigger brushes. Trying to do this after painting larger locations will develop irregular lines.

A roller may need more devices (handles, poles, rollers) than brushes, but you can get more carried out in less time with them. Keep in mind to paint in an overlapping "W" to improve coverage and ravel roller lines. While you'll need ladders for cutting in and detail work at heights, an extension pole contributed to a roller will save you a lot more time.

Some Known Details About Winter Is The Best Time To Paint Your Interior - Ricciardi Brothers

This is called boxing, and it will assist you prevent any inconsistencies in the color of your paint protection. Simply put numerous gallons into a larger, resealable bucket, and stir thoroughly. Yes, today's mixing processes are far more consistent than in the past, but this step is a fail-safe measure simply in case there was a small error when the paint was mixed at the house center.

Painting the interior of your house, or simply a space, is among the simplest and most affordable ways to renew, refurnish or restore the appearance of a house. When you paint a room, here's the order in which you ought to apply paint:1. the ceiling2. walls3. mouldings and casings4.

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Getting The How Often Should You Paint Your House - The Digest To Work

Some activities make the need to repaint your house more obvious than others do: Cleaning off the food the little one tossed at the wall, realizing the art piece your in-laws offered you clashes terribly with your wall color, the chip or dent in the entrance from a luggage years ago, the light striking the living-room ideal these are all indications that it's time to repaint your interior.

For homeowners in the Stanley area of North Carolina and would like more information on how to paint your home of if you want to hire a painter go to Stanley Interior House Painter to get tips or a quote to paint your home.>

[cutsliceddiced]

New top story from Time: How TIME’s Reporting on Gay Life in America Shaped—and Skewed—a Generation’s Attitudes

Editor’s note: At TIME, we aim to apply the same scrutiny to ourselves that we do to the world. In that spirit, TIME is publishing this article by Eric Marcus, author of Making Gay History.

TIME magazine helped me come out to my mother. Inadvertently. It was June 1977 and I was back in home Queens, N.Y., from my first year at Vassar College. At school I’d haltingly made my way out of the closet — transitioning from a first-semester girlfriend to a second-semester boyfriend and torturing myself (and the girlfriend and boyfriend both) over knowing what I wanted and hating who I was because I’d failed to drive those feelings away.

Over lunch one afternoon at our kitchen table, with the latest issue of TIME turned to an article about Anita Bryant’s successful campaign to repeal a gay-rights bill in Dade County, Fla., I raged over the injustice of both Bryant’s assertion that gay people were a danger to children and the cowardly legislators who caved to prejudice and ignorance. Unknowingly, my red-faced outrage offered another clue to my mother that there was more than a little self-interest at stake for me in the fate of the gay civil-rights movement. Weeks later, she would ask me if I was gay.

It wasn’t until more than a decade later, when I began researching an oral-history book on what was then called the gay and lesbian civil-rights movement, that I realized that TIME magazine had also played a role in shaping how my mother thought of homosexuals — and how she’d come to view her teenaged gay son.

In my research, as I struggled to gain an understanding of why people saw homosexuals as sick, sinful and criminal, I stumbled on a 1966 essay in TIME that just about burned the skin off my face as I read it. I think it was meant as a meditation on what to make of the then-growing visibility of gay life in America. But while it’s couched as enlightened analysis, it now reads as shockingly regressive. (There was no byline, which was the norm for the magazine at the time.) To this day, there are words and phrases from that essay that I can recite from memory: Deviate. Witty, pretty, catty, and no problem to keep at arm’s length. Caused psychically, through a disabling fear of the opposite sex. A case of arrested development. A pathetic little second-rate substitute for reality, a pitiable flight from life. No pretense that it is anything but a pernicious sickness. Had my mother read that essay? Did she recall those words when I responded to her question with a shaky “yes”?

As I came to discover, TIME wasn’t alone. The media in those years, as is most often the case today, reflected society’s prevailing views about homosexuals. Back then, homosexuality was still considered a treatable mental illness, sexual relations between two people of the same sex could get you arrested in almost every state, and thousands — perhaps tens of thousands — of gay men and lesbians had been hounded out of federal employment since President Eisenhower signed an executive order in 1953 banning them from government jobs. In New York, a state law about “disorderly” conduct was interpreted as making it illegal to serve known homosexuals alcohol, and the police routinely raided gay bars.

The now-celebrated 1969 Stonewall uprising — triggered by a police raid of the Stonewall Inn gay bar — which is being marked this month by 50th anniversary celebrations, marches and protests, got a particularly pungent headline in the New York Daily News: “Homo Nest Raided, Queen Bees Are Stinging Mad.” The Village Voice, an alternative downtown newspaper, published an article in the immediate aftermath of the first night of rioting in which the reporter used a slur to refer to the uprising’s participants, earning the Voice, just days after the start of the uprising, one of the first public protests that would come to characterize the newly militant era of “gay liberation.”

TIME, which didn’t cover the uprising, gave prominent play to the rage and wave of activism unleashed in the weeks and months that followed. The Oct. 31, 1969, cover story was headlined “The Homosexual: Newly Visible, Newly Understood.” The magazine got the “newly visible” part right. The piece displays an overall attempt at straightforward reporting, a marked change from the tone of three years prior. And yet the picture the article painted of the “newly understood” homosexual was still dripping with sarcasm and contempt. One section of the report noted several “types” of homosexuals: “The Blatant Homosexual,” “The Secret Lifer,” “The Desperate,” “The Adjusted,” “The Bisexual,” “The Situational-Experimental.” After describing these different categories, the writer notes: “The homosexual subculture, a semi-public world, is, without question, shallow and unstable.”

Although that cover story also said some comparatively nice things about homosexuals, is it any wonder members of the newly formed Gay Liberation Front and the Daughters of Bilitis (an organization for lesbians founded in 1955 in San Francisco) picketed the Time-Life building after its publication? On Nov. 12, 1969 — my 11th birthday — demonstrators handed out leaflets, which read: “In characteristic tight-assed fashion, Time has attempted to dictate sexual boundaries for the American public and to define what is healthy, moral, fun, and good on the basis of its own narrow, outdated, warped, perverted, and repressed sexual bias.” Gay people weren’t going to take it anymore.

When I told my mother eight years later that yes, I was gay, she just looked at me with a blank stare. Was she trying to figure out what kind of homosexual I was? A no-longer-secret lifer? Desperate? An experimenter? Definitely not adjusted. In truth, I was a depressed gay teenager who feared that his life was ruined because of this one, immutable flaw. But I wasn’t about to tell my mother that. I responded with a question of my own: “Do you feel guilty?” I’d come to understand from the research I’d done in the Vassar College library that parents of gay children often felt that it was their own fault (also thanks to TIME and all the other news outlets and so-called experts who blamed homosexuality on a dominant mother and passive father). My mother said that she didn’t feel guilty, that she was disappointed. I would rather she had felt guilty. Her disappointment left me in tears.

In the years that followed, change came — but not rapidly, and with more effort and heartbreak than I’d imagined it would take. TIME, like every other major news outlet, shifted away from parroting society’s prejudice and misunderstanding to more honest and balanced reporting. Even before my mother asked me that fateful question, TIME had published a cover story on Leonard Matlovich, who was challenging the ban on gay people serving in the military. That and subsequent cover stories — the 1997 Ellen DeGeneres “Yep, I’m Gay” cover or the 2014 Laverne Cox cover about transgender civil rights, for example — helped reshape in a positive way how people like me thought of ourselves and how the rest of the world saw us.

Courtesy Eric MarcusMarcus and his mother at the 1993 March on Washington for Lesbian, Gay, and Bi Equal Rights and Liberation

My mother came around, too, and by the early 1990s was an activist in her own right, volunteering to lead a support group for gay men whose partners had died from AIDS and helping found the Queens chapter of PFLAG (once known as Parents, Families and Friends, of Lesbians and Gays). Mom died 15 years ago and I wonder what she would have made of the recent TIME cover story on presidential candidate Pete Buttigieg and his husband Chasten under the headline “First Family.”

Actually, I don’t have to wonder. Knowing my mother she’d have the magazine’s cover taped to her refrigerator — her makeshift vision board — and would be on the phone to me, wanting to know if I could get her tickets to the inauguration.

Eric Marcus is the author of Making Gay History: The Half-Century Fight for Lesbian and Gay Equal Rights and the founder and host of a podcast of the same name. Learn more at www.makinggayhistory.com.

via https://cutslicedanddiced.wordpress.com/2018/01/24/how-to-prevent-food-from-going-to-waste

[scribefindegil]

Fisherman’s Knot Chapter 16

[Ao3]

[Title Songs]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5][Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15]

Content warning for abuse. 

Many thanks to @thesnadger for betaing--always, but especially for chapters like this where I throw them at her shouting “I’m too angry at my own villain to tell if this is good! Help me!” She is the best. 

Also thanks to @marypsue for helping me work out Serinam’s motivations and the plot snarl I was stuck in so I could stop worrying and actually write this thing.

We Sang Them Up The Beach

“You’re going to a party?”

“Well, not really a party, it’s—”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

Mabel glared out from the laptop screen, hands on her hips.

“We just decided last night, pumpkin,” said Stan, his tone somewhere between soothing and defensive.

“Yeah, but do you know how much I could have done since last night? Grunkle Ford needs a makeover, and Nuala needs an advanced course in Humaning, and where were you planning to get an outfit for her, hmm?”

Stan looked across the table at Ford and gave him a one-shouldered shrug. “At . . . a store?”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “You two are hopeless at fashion. No offense, but I think it’s time to bring out the big guns.”

She pulled out her phone, dialed, and stood there tapping her foot while it rang.

“Yes, hello. Pacifica? We’ve got an emergency!”

Nuala stood awkwardly in the center of the cabin wearing her sealskin and one of Stan’s Hawaiian shirts while Ford took her measurements. It felt strange. They had plenty of measuring equipment on the boat, but it was for anomalies. Experiments. Not people.

From a split video window on the laptop screen, the Northwest girl watched judgmentally. The fact that “judgmental” was clearly a default expression that had been drilled into her since birth didn’t make Ford feel any less scrutinized.

“Are clothes always this complicated?” Nuala asked. She wriggled and made a face as Ford wrapped the measuring tape around her hips.

“Only super-fancy awesome sparkle clothes!” said Mabel, at almost the exact same time that Pacifica said, “If you take your appearance seriously they are.” She was scrolling through something on her hot pink phone. “We’ll have to go off-the-rack, and plus-size is a challenge, but I’m sure we can find something suitable.”

“Aww, Pacifica!” said Mabel. “You’re like her fairy godmother!”

Perhaps it was some issue with her webcam, but Pacifica seemed to go very red all of a sudden.

“Whatever,” she sniffed. “I’m only doing this so you’ll owe me.”

Ford let her walk him through the rest of the measurements. It made him almost nostalgic for the dimensions where they had machines that could just scan your body and spit out clothes in exactly your size, even though his experience with them had mostly involved disguises and prison jumpsuits. He finished taking the circumference of Nuala’s bicep—first relaxed, at Pacifica’s insistence, and then flexed, at Stan’s.

“Wouldn’t want to go up against you in the ring!” said Stan. “Once you figured out how fists work you’d be a powerhouse.”

“Fists are silly,” said Nuala, shrugging away from Ford and the tape measure. “Can you bite in this ring?”

“Eh,” said Stan. “That depends on how much you care about things like ‘rules’ and ‘consequences.’ Now, when I was a kid—”

“All right, she’s done,” Pacifica interrupted blithely. “Now you.”

Ford blinked at her. “Excuse me?”

Mabel flapped her arms at the screen. “You’ve gotta get fancied up, too, Great Uncle Ford!”

“No, but—I . . . we have a suit already . . .”

“What, that thing your brother wears? Pu-lease. It should have ended up in the rag bucket like twenty years ago.”

“It is a little . . . vintage,” said Mabel apologetically. “And it’s got that weird old-person smell, like moth balls and disappointment. Sorry, Grunkle Ford, but I think Pacifica has a point.”

“Well, obviously.” They really needed to see about color-correcting the screen—Pacifica’s face looked to be about the same shade as Ford’s sweater.

Speaking of which . . . they’d had to dress Nuala in the thinnest shirt they had before Pacifica would accept any of her measurements. There was no way she’d let Ford keep the heavy woolen turtleneck.

He tried anyway. “Can’t you just measure over . . . ?”

“Not if you want it to fit, which is the entire point of measuring.”

“What about the height thingies?” said Mabel. “You can start with those, at least!”

And so Nuala, fumbling at first to hold the tape measure, took down Ford’s height and the length of his trouser legs and several other things that seemed increasingly awkward and unnecessary. He let his mind turn to more important matters than the length of his inseam.

The fundraiser began at six thirty. That gave them nearly ten hours—more if they were fashionably late—to make their preparations. The plan was simple enough. All Ford needed to do was convince B—Doctor Smith. He’d use the name tonight but he didn’t need to yet. He’d convince Doctor Smith that the two of them were equally unprincipled, and then broach the topic—hypothetically, of course—of where a man might hide a sealskin. And then, well, either it would work or it wouldn’t. There was no sense in trying to plan too far ahead. There were too many ways the future could have splintered by then. It was like trying to trace the edge of a fractal—all those tiny little curves that blossomed out into their own universes if you followed them too far.

Something tightened around his neck. Something cold and hard and—

“I’ve got ways of making you talk! It’s only a matter of—”

“No!”

Ford jerked forward and for a moment the collar tightened, snapping his head back, and then the pressure released and he was free, his hand flying to the blaster at his hip even though it was too small, much too small—

“Ford! Hey!”

Something tightened around his wrist. But it wasn’t shackles. There was give to it, and a familiar shape, a thumb on one side and one-two-three-four fingers on the other and—oh.

Oh.

The world clicked back into place like a slide advancing in a projector. Stan slowly released his hold on Ford’s wrist. Nuala stood frozen, still holding the measuring tape in one hand.

She’d been measuring the circumference of his neck. Of course. And of course he’d panicked and lashed out because he couldn’t even be fitted for a suit without ruining everything—

Stan spoke. “Hey rich kid.”

Pacifica bristled, but she looked almost relieved to have someone to argue with. “You know what my name is, old man.”

“Yeah, sure. Just, uh, why don’t you tell me what else you need and we’ll get back to you. I think my nerdy brother over here needs more coffee so he doesn’t fall asleep on his feet again, yanno?”

Pacifica looked unconvinced, but she shrugged nonetheless and listed off the remaining measurements. Stan scribbled them down, his tongue sticking out between his teeth.

“And get them to me quickly,” the girl snapped. “I haven’t got all day.”

“Thanks, Pacificaaaa!” said Mabel, wrapping her arms around herself the way she always did when she wanted to hug someone at a distance.

Pacifica rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome. I guess. Whatever.”

*

Ford took the neck measurement himself. The tape stretched taut across the band of paler skin that circled his throat while his hands brushed the raised Lichtenberg figure scars that stretched down across his chest almost, but not quite, to his heart.

They had looked like fractals in the days immediately after Weirdmageddon—faint, barely-visible traceries of red branching across his body. But now they were faded. Simplified. Codified. No longer like the blossoming of universes, but like a stemma, a series of imperfect copies built from a million possibilities.

All the possibilities were imperfect, Ford knew. But they never felt that way until they existed and he could see exactly how flawed they were.

He marked the tape with his fingernail and pulled it away until he could read the numbers.

*

The day went by too quickly. Before he knew it Ford was standing in the hotel room they’d rented for the night, his hair damp from the shower and his skin, scars and tattoos and all, scrubbed clean. He pulled the robe tighter around himself and stared at the suit the Northwest girl had picked out for him.

He hadn’t worn a suit since Weirdmageddon.

“You need a hand?” asked Stan. He was sprawled on the other bed, twirling his ridiculous stolen pen between his fingers. “Sorry I can only offer you the one. But hey! After tomorrow this arm can stop being such a slacker.”

Tomorrow. Right. They only had one chance at this. Otherwise Stan would have to go to the hospital alone, and that was unacceptable.

“You’re sure McGucket isn’t gonnna secretly hide a flamethrower in the metal bit or anything?” Stan continued. “If I’m turning into some anime cyborg pirate I should at least know in advance.”

“No flamethrowers,” said Ford. “I promise. You’ll be the world’s most boring cyborg.”

Stan chuckled. “Great. Just what I always wanted.”

He glanced at the clock on the wall and his face scrunched up. “Think we should go check on . . . ?”

He indicated the bathroom door with a toss of his head. Nuala had been inside for a long time. They could hear her singing quietly in a strange, nasal language. The garment bag and boxes of accessories that Pacifica had procured for them—the number seemed excessive, but Ford knew very little about how women dressed—sat unopened on one of the chairs.

He stood and rapped gently on the bathroom door.

“Nuala?”

The noise stopped. “Yes?”

“Um . . . are you decent?”

“At lots of things! What do you mean?”

“It’s  . . . an expression . . .” Ford winced. “Are you ready? Or nearly?”

The door opened and Nuala peered out, her sealskin wrapped tight around her. The handle of Stan’s hairbrush was sticking out of the tangled tresses massed around her shoulders.

“I don’t understand how you make your hair do things,” she said.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have bitten the hairdresser,” remarked Stan.

“She touched me,” snapped Nuala with a curl of her lip. Ford sympathized.

“Well, you can’t go to a fancy do looking like your hair’s going to eat the cutlery.”

“It should,” muttered Nuala darkly. “I hate cutlery.”

Stan laughed. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Well, come on then,” said Stan, pointing at one of the chairs. “Let’s fix it.”

Ford left them to it and went into the bathroom to get dressed. He didn’t hear any shouting or snarling, which was a good sign, but he was still surprised when he stepped out and saw Stan gently working a comb through Nuala’s hair. She was smiling, and Stan laughed at whatever she had just said. He’d been expecting . . . well, not carnage per se, but certainly a much tenser scene.

Stan looked up and grinned at him. “Looking good, Poindexter,” he said. “Glad to see you still clean up okay.”

The suit was uncomfortable in the way that anything that wasn’t his usual sweater and coat was uncomfortable, but he had to admit that it fit well. It was just stiff, made him stand tall instead of letting him curl up inside it if he needed to. It smelled new and sterile.

“Grab me the conditioner, would you?” Stan asked. Ford brought it and watched with surprise as Stan slowly worked the product into Nuala’s hair and teased out the knots until it was smooth.

“When did you learn how to do this?” Ford asked.

Stan smiled. “Mabel. Went swimming in the lake and turned her hair into a rat’s nest. I said we should just cut it—lost cause, right? But she wouldn’t stop singing until I sat down and helped her comb it out. Darn kid. There!” He removed the hairbrush and set it to the side. “Now you don’t got an accessory-eating monster on your head. Huh. Come to think about it, maybe that’s an idea I should run by Soos.”

He sat back and stretched his one working arm. “You want it up?”

“Will I look more human?”

Stan considered the wild waves of hair that cascaded down Nuala’s back to pool below her hips. “Probably.”

She gave a small, stiff nod. “Then yes.”

“Can’t do anything fancy,” Stan said. “I’ve been a lot of things in my time, but never a hairdresser. But at least we can braid it.”

Ford, who had been adjusting his tie in the mirror, blinked. “We?”

Stan wiggled his fingers. “I got one hand, genius. Come on.”

It was an odd process and Nuala laughed at them as they argued about how to start. On their first attempt they split the hair unevenly and the braid looked sad and lopsided. On the second, Stan and Ford couldn’t match their tension—the braid curved to the right and Nuala snapped at Ford for pulling too hard. But the third time, as Nuala relaxed and Ford found the rhythm, it was almost soothing. Cross the strand over the middle, pull it snug but not tight, then wait for Stan to do the same and swap off which strand they were holding. There was a rhythm to it. It helped him breathe.

Finally, her braid held in place with a piece of knotted twine, Nuala gathered up her things and went to get dressed. Ford sat on the bed and pressed the receiver into his ear. Nuala would be wearing the ring this time, they’d decided. It was more . . . fitting for the roles they were playing.

Stan nudged Ford with his uninjured arm. “Hey. You all right?”

“I’m fine.” Maybe if he said it enough it would turn out to be true. There were universes like that, where reality bent and twisted around spoken words and the native populations sang their cities into existence. But here the words fell flat and lifeless.

“Okay,” said Stan. “Sure. But, uh, somebody once told me that it’s okay not to be all right. And I think maybe he had a point. Just saying.”

Ford breathed in deeply and then let it out. One-two-three-four-five-six.

“I appreciate your concern,” he said. “But it’s misplaced, I assure you.”

Stan shrugged lopsidedly. “Suit yourself. Or don’t. I mean, technically you had to get suited by a preteen because you don’t know anything about clothes.”

“Ha ha.”

From the bathroom, they could hear Nuala arguing with Mabel on speakerphone. “There’s no point to these socks! You can see through them and they don’t have any colors!”

“Just . . . be careful, all right?” said Stan.

“I’m always careful,” Ford said.

Stan laid a hand on his back. “Ford. Bro. Don’t lie to me. I know you, and I don’t think you’ve ever been careful in your life.”

“Then what’s the point of insisting that I try?”

“I don’t know. Wishful thinking?”

More dialogue drifted out from the bathroom. “And you wear these all the time? What is wrong with your species?”

“I guess . . .” Stan fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling tiles. “Remember that this isn’t a solo mission. Nuala might not be able to use a fork, but she could take someone out.”

“And I can use both forks and firearms,” said Ford. “We’ll be fine. I’ve handled much more dangerous missions on my own.”

“And how many of those didn’t end up with you hog-tied and thrown in Space Jail?” asked Stan. “I’ve done more dangerous things on my own, too, but they sucked. Even when I did make it out okay. I’m . . . look, I’m not saying you can’t do this on your own. It’s just . . . it’s nice that you don’t have to.”

The suit was perfectly hemmed and there were no loose threads for him to pick at. Ford dug his hands into the paisley-patterned blanket stretched across the bed and twisted a corner of it between his fingers.

*

It felt like only a few minutes before Mabel called Stan’s phone to let them know that Nuala was ready.

“She’s very nervous and a little bitey, so be careful,” Mabel warned them. “Also we had to lie about how women’s clothing works, so pretend that you’re super uncomfortable and don’t have any pockets, okay? Don’t worry I know it’s gonna be great love you byeeeee!”

Nuala didn’t respond to the first knock. After the second, Ford tried the handle and gently pushed the door open.

Nuala was standing in front of the mirror, still as a figurehead. She looked out of place against the white tiles and the harsh fluorescent light, like a looted artifact on display in a far-away museum.

The girls had done their job well. Nuala’s dress was made of some deep blue-gray fabric that turned to lace at her knees. The back and the sleeves and the neck were white lace, delicate as sea foam. Her earrings dangled and dazzled like they were trying to hide the fact that they were clip-ons, and she wore a heavy silver chain around her neck. Ford’s eyes should have been drawn to the pendant that hung from it, but he found himself staring at the chain instead. It wasn’t tight, but still he wished that he could just unfasten it and fling it away.

“Lookin’ good, kid,” said Stan from behind him.

Nuala jumped. “I am . . . nervous,” she admitted.

“It’ll be fine,” said Stan. “You look beautiful.”

Nuala stared at her reflection in the mirror. She touched her hair, the long braid they’d tamed her wild tresses into, the neckline of her dress and the heavy pendant dangling from her throat.

“I don’t want to look beautiful,” she said quietly. “I want to look like me.”

*

Stan made sure to give Ford his Mabel Hug for the day before they headed out. It still wasn’t quite as tight as Mabel herself would manage, but it was tighter and longer than usual.

“I’ll be fine,” Ford said, his face crushed against his brother’s good shoulder.

“You’d better be!” Stan gave a final squeeze and then stepped away, clapping Ford on the back.

“Nuala, I’m counting on you to look after this nerd, okay?”

“Got it!” The selkie headbutted Stan’s shoulder in affirmation.

“And I want you to take these, just in case.”

He produced a set of brass knuckles and slipped them into the purse Nuala had slung over her shoulder. Ford suspected that Mabel had been behind that particular purchase—it was shaped like a surprised-looking fish and had scales made of glass beads and sequins.

“Don’t worry,” Stan said before Ford could protest, “They’re my best pair. Totally reasonable accessory for a fancy shindig like this.”

Ford decided that it wasn’t worth arguing over.

*

The next thing he knew their taxi was pulling up outside the aquarium. Ford tapped his fingers across his knees. One-two-three-four-five-six, over and over again.

“You give her the ring yet?” came Stan’s voice in his ear.

Right. That. He’d been putting it off—foolish, since it was their lifeline if anything went wrong—but it made the charade seem more real. He knew they were only pretending, but still, it felt like another chain. Like a contract that he was on the wrong side of.

He took the pirate ring from his breast pocket and turned to Nuala.

“Your hand?”

She offered him both of them. It took her a moment to relax enough that he could slip the communicator onto the ring finger of her left hand.

Nuala wrinkled her nose. “It feels wrong,” she said.

“I know,” said Ford, pulling his hands away and running a thumb along the scar tissue at his wrists. “I know.”

*

The venue was . . .

Big. Big and bright and full of people and full of noise. Ford searched desperately for a corner while Nuala stood stiff at his side, holding on to his arm with all her might. He suspected her grip would leave bruises. He didn’t care.

He piloted them through the crowd toward the balcony at the far end of the room, snatching a drink from the tray of a passing waiter as they went by. He’d meant for it to be a simple prop, something to keep his hands busy, but before they were through the balcony doors he found that he’d already downed it.

No matter. Perhaps it would calm his nerves.

Or perhaps it would ruin everything. He could already feel the evening branching out of his control, likes cracks spreading in a sheet of ice.

There wasn’t much he could do. Just hold on to the best timeline he could make and not let go. There were universes where this worked, Ford was certain. He just needed to make sure that he was in one of those.

They’d made their way to the railing and were leaning over, Nuala taking in great gulps of sea air from the harbor. He could feel her relax as the salt spray brushed her skin.

If only it were that easy for him. He could feel the prickle of watching eyes—and of course there were people watching, that was what happened in a crowd!—and had to fight the urge to spin around so he could keep them all in his sights.

He wished he’d been able to bring his blaster. He felt naked without the familiar weight at his hip. He felt lost without the weapon to ground him. Without any of the things he usually had to ground him. His blaster. His sweater. His coat.

His brother.

But Nuala was there, and she was squeezing his arm, not with the death grip she’d used earlier but with a steady pressure that should have been comforting. And she was saying something—something about going back inside—and Ford tried to smile and nod at her, tried to turn and steel himself and brave the noise and the light and the eyes for her sake if nothing else—

The empty glass fell from his hand and tumbled over the railing. He’d forgotten that he’d been holding it. It fell as if in slow motion into the harbor below, glinting in the light, until it entered the water and disappeared with barely a splash.

“Um,” said Nuala. “Just checking—is that something we’re supposed to do?”

Ford shook his head. “No, no—it was an accident. Ignore it.”

She looked disappointed that throwing glassware into the harbor wasn’t a normal part of high society, and Ford supposed that he couldn’t blame her. It would certainly be more entertaining than the interminable small talk they’d have to endure.

But lurking on the balcony wasn’t what they were here for.

He turned, and braced himself, and entered the fray.

*

He could pretend. Sometimes. For a moment. He could pretend until whoever he was talking to asked about Nuala, and then he had to remember who he was playing.

At least he’d gotten some practice in before Doctor Smith arrived.

Ford would have recognized him even without Serinam by his side. His thin, severe face looked exactly like the photograph that Dipper had found. Everything about him was exacting, from the cut of his beard to the cut of his suit. Ford found himself suddenly grateful for Pacifica’s insistence on the quality of his own suit; Doctor Smith didn’t look like he would give the time of day to someone in ill-fitting clothing.

Ford set down the glass he was holding and laid a hand on Nuala’s shoulder. She’d been facing the balcony, and as she turned he heard the sharp intake of her breath. For a moment she locked eyes with Serinam, and then the other selkie looked away.

Nuala took his arm. There was no doubt by now that he had bruises forming. Ford leaned into the pain, let it ground him. He tried to hide the emotion in his eyes. It had been too long since he’d needed to act like this. Not just pretending he was fine when he wasn’t—that was automatic and instinctive and had been a habit for as long as he could remember. But just . . . not letting himself feel things. Locking them away in the back of his mind with the other things he couldn’t dwell on. That was harder.

He plastered on a smile and stepped forward.

Doctor Smith noticed Nuala before he noticed Ford. His eyebrows rose momentarily, and then he smiled, tight and smug and predatory.

Bill Cipher hadn’t had a mouth, but if he had he would have smiled just like that when Ford first ran to confront him. He would have smiled just like that when he plucked Ford from the rubble of the tower after his shot went wide. He would have smiled just like that the first time he saw Ford sleeping, an eager little pawn ripe for the taking.

And Ford wasn’t afraid. There was no room in his head to be afraid, no room for anything except the hot, boiling rage that filled him so completely he was sure he must have smoke pouring off his shoulders as he forced himself, excruciatingly, to smile back.

Doctor Smith crossed over to them so Ford didn’t have to move, didn’t have to worry that if he released the tension in any of his joints his fist would fly of its own accord right into the center that horrible, horrible smile.

Not yet. Not yet. He had to stay calm. Had to pretend. He’d lied to Bill Cipher in the end, hadn’t he? He’d lied to Atlantis. He could lie to Doctor Smith.

“Pardon me, but I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure . . . ?”

There he was, right in front of them.

“No,” said Ford. “I don’t believe you have.”

“. . . Well,” said Doctor Smith after a pause. “I’m Bill Smith, and this ravishing creature is my wife Sarah.” He smiled indulgently at Serinam. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Some response seemed expected, so Ford nodded. “Yes.” Most people would probably have meant it, but Ford remembered the heartbroken look on Nuala’s face.

“You gotta introduce yourself, bro,” came Stan’s voice in his ear.

Right.

“Dr. Stanford Pines. Pleased to meet you.” He felt like he might choke on the words.

Dr. Smith held out a hand and Ford bit the inside of his lower lip as he took it. He’d avoided handshakes when he could, even before . . . even before Bill Cipher. There, he could say it.

Bill Smith had a firm handshake and long, slender fingers, and the handshake meant nothing except perhaps, apocryphally, as a demonstration that both parties were unarmed. What a lie that could be.

As Ford drew his hand back, Dr, Smith caught and held it.

“Oh, do excuse me. May I?”

Ford looked across at Serinam. He was hardly the most anomalous out of the group that night, or the most likely to be dehumanized for it. He nodded.

Dr. Smith turned Ford’s hand over in his own, flexing his fingers and gently squeezing his knuckles. The touch filled him with a crawling horror entirely out of scale with what was actually happening.

“Fascinating!” said Dr. Smith at last. “Fully functional postaxial polydactyly! I’m not sure I’ve ever seen an extra digit so well integrated! Do you have full range of motion?”

Ford rolled his fingers while Dr. Smith watched, then hid his hand behind his back.

“Oh, I apologize, you must think me incredibly rude! I didn’t even let you finish introducing yourselves! And who is this lovely lady here?”

Ford swallowed. Mirrored Dr. Smith’s smile as best as he could. Leaned into his friend as if asking for forgiveness.

“My fiancée, Nuala.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” said Dr. Smith. He took Nuala’s hand in his and raised it to kiss her fingertips. She shot Ford a look of pure panic and gripped his arm tighter. Ford kept his expression carefully blank, but squeezed back.

“How long have you been, ah . . .” There was that smile again as he looked Nuala up and down. “. . . Engaged?”

“Not long,” Ford replied. “We met when I was doing research in Labrador. We’ve only been back on the mainland for a few weeks.”

“What type of research?”

“My work is focused on . . . anomalous phenomena. Investigating the scientific nature behind strange tales . . . legends . . . folklore . . .”

“Ah.” Dr. Smith smiled and smiled and Ford bit his tongue to keep from screaming. “I dabble in such areas myself. Not my main area of study—I focus on North Atlantic pinnipeds—but Sarah here has such a personal connection to the folklore. Since we met I admit I’ve found the field quite . . . captivating. She really opened my eyes.”

A muscle twitched in Serinam’s neck as she stared woodenly at the floor. Apart from those first few seconds of eye contact with Nuala, she’d barely looked up.

“What about yours? Does she share your passion for the unexplained?”

“Nuala has little interest in academics, I’m afraid,” Ford found himself saying.

“Oh, I’m sure she makes up for it in other ways,” said Dr. Smith with a smirk. “Brains aren’t everything.”

“Indeed!” replied Ford vehemently, certain that the thing he was agreeing with wasn’t actually what Dr. Smith had meant and equally certain that he wasn’t going to let himself think about it.

“Calm down, bro,” said Stan in his ear. It was comforting to have his brother’s voice muttering to him, drowning out the sounds of his own thoughts. “You can punch him later. I know you’re thinking it cause I’m thinking it too. Just take your time.”

Ford snatched a bite-sized pastry from the tray of a passing waiter. Nuala reached out to take one of her own and Dr. Smith pursed his lips and frowned at her. Without breaking eye contact, she grabbed two of the pastries and shoved them into her mouth. Ford was grateful they’d been able to convince Mabel and Pacifica not to introduce the selkie to makeup.

Now Dr. Smith was looking at him disapprovingly, almost pityingly.

“Nuala!” Ford snapped. “No more!”

She bared her teeth, about to shoot back some angry remark before she remembered and lowered her head.

“It does take a considerable amount of time and resources to train an ambassador animal,” said Dr. Smith calmly, the apparent non-sequitur belied by the curl of his lip as he looked at Nuala. “Of course, some are more co-operative than others.”

“You seem to have experience of your own,” said Ford. “Maybe we could discuss it? Or at least compare notes on our respective folklore research.”

“Absolutely!” said Dr. Smith. “I have several other groups to check in with, but then . . . perhaps we could retire to my office with a little of this very fine wine and have a chat. And I’m sure that Sarah and . . . what was her name again?”

“Nuala.”

“Nuala! Of course. I’m sure that Sarah and Nuala can find plenty to talk about. I remember when we first were married, how difficult she found it to acclimate to the mainland. But everything’s perfect now, isn’t it darling?”

“Yes, dear,” said Serinam. “Perfect.”

*

Ford enjoyed more than a little of the very fine wine as they waited for Dr. Smith to return from his rounds. It was probably a terrible idea. He decided that he didn’t care. As the alcohol took hold of him the fractal patterns of the multiverse blurred away until he was left with only the present and the liquid, honeyed glow of the future. Future, singular. Whatever happened, he only had the one.

He snuck appetizers to Nuala, too sure that they were being watched to let her take them on her own. He’d take one from every tray they passed and then palm it off to her when no one was looking. It was the only apology he could manage under the circumstances.

“It’s okay, you know,” she muttered to him as they took another break on the balcony. “Do whatever you need to make Billsmith like you until Serinam’s safe, and then you can help me eat him.”

“Um,” said Ford. “Pass. But thank you. But cannibalism really isn’t in my plans for the evening.”

Stan laughed in his ear.

“Suit yourself,” Nuala growled, biting into a canape.

*

If it had belonged to anyone else, Dr. Smith’s office would have been comforting. It was full of the clutter of academia—overflowing bookcases and post-it-covered papers with chunks of bone and baleen used as paperweights. Even with his limited computing knowledge, Ford could tell the clunky monitor on the desk was an old model. The ancient conference stickers were beginning to peel off its grimy sides, and the keyboard balanced precariously on a stack of manilla folders. The top drawer of the flat files in the corner sat half-open, revealing oversized charts and sounding maps.

It was cozy. Or it would have been, if it weren’t for the man there with him.

“So, Stan,” said Dr. Smith, pointing him to the desk chair. “Do you go by . . . ?”

“Stanford,” said Ford, taking a seat. He and Stan had discussed the possibility of pseudonyms, of introducing himself as Stan or Filbrick or something that was even less him, but Ford had protested. He’d have to tell enough lies already. As Stan always said, you used as much of the truth as you could. Used as much of yourself as you could. Compartmentalized. Ford was Nuala’s friend. Stanford—Dr. Stanford Pines, PhD—could be removed. Not the way that Dr. Smith was, never like that, but close enough to pretend.

“Fair enough.” Dr. Smith extricated the office’s other chair from the mounds of books and dragged it over. He fixed Ford with a fascinated grin. “So tell me, Stanford. How did you manage to land a selkie?”

Ford took the glass of wine he was offered. “How does anyone? Location. Research. Luck. I caught her sleeping. She nearly savaged me when she woke, but I’d already gotten her skin in safe-keeping, so I came away with only a few minor scars.”

Dr. Smith laughed and clapped him on the back. Ford fought back a shudder.

“Luck is right! You know, I wasn’t even looking for them when I left on the expedition. Didn’t think they were real. It was Sarah, if you can believe it, who found me! Said she wanted to make a difference. Study science, save the ocean. And here’s the best part; she gave up her skin herself! She wanted to follow me but she was worried about getting it through customs. Well, you know how closely regulated marine mammal parts are in this country. It was easy to take it back with the rest of our samples and then hold onto it for safe-keeping.”

“Safe-keeping?”

Dr. Smith chuckled. “Well . . . safe-keeping, study. They’re not that different, really.”

“So if she asked, would you give it . . . ?”

Ford knew the answer, but he still had to ask. Dr. Smith cackled. “Of course not! Are you mad? Lose a wife and a research subject in one fell swoop just because she asked? She hardly does anymore, anyway. You know, it was months before she even suspected.”

Doing his best to ignore the stream of increasingly creative invective in his ear and the sting of bile in his throat, Ford paused and took a sip of the wine.

“It sounds like a much smoother start than my situation, certainly,” he said.

Dr. Smith waved a hand dismissively. “She’ll come around. I’ll be very interested to see your data. Especially long-term; Sarah insists that humans and selkies can’t have children together, but I don’t know if I believe her.” He raised one eyebrow. “See how it works out for you. The possibilities for study with an inter-species child—”

Ford choked on his wine.

In a way it was a blessing, he thought as he doubled over. It gave him an excuse to hide his face.

“It’s okay,” came Stan’s comforting voice. “It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay. We’re gonna get you all out of there and then we’re gonna make that bastard wish he was never born. Yeah, that’s it, kid.”

He must be responding to Nuala as well. Ford knew she was close, close enough for the pirate ring to pick up Dr. Smith’s words. He’d need to be careful when they left.

He straightened up, still coughing into the sleeve of his suit.

“I had no idea that the thought of procreation was so alarming to you,” said Dr. Smith with a smirk.

Ford did his best to return the expression, sure he was ending up with something more like a death rictus.

“As I said, I’m early in the process of assimilation. Nuala is . . . temperamental. If she ever finds her skin . . . well, I hope you’re able to find my reports since I most likely won’t be around to send them.”

“All the more reason for you to hide it well.”

Ford drained the dregs of his glass and set it on the desk beside him.

“Perhaps that’s one thing you can help me with. She’s tenacious. I keep it under lock and key, but sometimes I wonder if it’s enough. What precautions do you take?”

“You’re asking me where I keep it?”

“How you keep it, at least.” Ford thought his voice sounded steady enough, even as the hand Dr. Smith couldn’t see drummed rapidly on his thigh. One-two-three-four-five-six, over and over.

“I’m sure you’re aware of how imperative it is that this remain a secret,” said Dr. Smith. “For both of our sakes. There are others, even other men of science, whose fear of the unknown and obsession with the petty façade of morality would prevent them from understanding.”

“Of course,” said Ford, while in his ear Stan muttered, “Please someone break this chump’s nose for me, I’m begging ya.”

Dr. Smith smiled and poured Ford another glass. “And where do you keep Nuala’s skin?”

“There’s a safe built into the floor of my boat.” He sipped his wine and fed the other man imaginary details until he seemed satisfied.

“And you?”

“Well,” said Dr. Smith. “The best place to hide a book is in a library.”

There followed an extended shuffling of keys—one from Dr. Smith’s pocket, which unlocked a desk drawer containing a huge ring of keys, one of which unlocked yet another drawer, and then finally, with a small and pointed key that looked like it could have belonged to a post office box, Dr. Smith unlocked the lowest of the flat file drawers.

It was filled with sealskins.

“Which one—”

“You can’t tell, can you? That’s the impressive part.” His eyes flashed. “I ran a DNA test on it as soon as we got back and it came back 100% harp seal. Ran one on Sarah, too, and it said 100% human.”

“Well, yes, magic isn’t encoded in DNA,” said Ford. “It’s an entirely separate system! The scientific instruments in this dimension don’t pick it up at all! What you need—”

Stan was shouting at him to shut up and Dr. Smith was looking at him hungrily. Ford clamped his mouth shut and panicked.

“What I need?”

“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. It’s entirely hypothetical. I was just . . . carried away by scientific excitement and said something that is not true! It happens. Occasionally.”

Dr. Smith stood and stalked towards him, smiling the same way he’d smiled at Nuala. Ford was frozen in place. One chance, one future, and he’d messed it all up. Ruined everything because he didn’t know when to just stop talking.

Bill Smith grabbed Ford by his wrists and pinned them to the arms of the chair, his grip tight and his nails digging into the flesh of Ford’s arms. He stepped uncomfortably close until his impeccable suit and his predatory smile was all Ford could see, and then he leaned in further to meet his eyes.

“Why, Doctor Pines,” he said. “I do believe there are some rather crucial things that you’re not telling me.”

[laundrytalks]

Do all of the numbers

That’s a lot…  1. selfie: I’ll do a separate post for this one

2. what would you name your future kids?: Maybe Michael for a boy and maybe a flower or something ele

3. do you miss anyone?: Yes? I mean it’s a two way street..if they wanted to talk they could but I know they’re going on with their life. 

4. what are you looking forward to?: Comic Con on Thursday :) It’ll be my first time going since I only really go to Sakura Con

5. is there anyone who can always make you smile?: Pretty much everyone haha. I’m a very smiley, happy person

 6. is it hard for you to get over someone?: It was hard for a few people but even though I made my mistakes they did even bigger ones to me.

7. what was your life like last year?:  Hard…

8. have you ever cried because you were so annoyed?: Yes

9. who did you last see in person?:  This bitch I work with named Hannah

10. are you good at hiding your feelings?: Yes to people who dont fully know me but No to one person

11. are you listening to music right now?: No, I’m watching 1960′s Star Trek :)

12. what is something you want right now?: For it to stop snowing and get warm…

13. how do you feel right now?: I’m a bit sick but I feel alright.

14. when was the last time someone of the opposite sex hugged you?: Yesterday..?

15. personality description: outgoing, punny, goofy, fun, adventurous, hungry

16. have you ever wanted to tell someone something but you didn’t?: All the time, but isn’t that what drinking is for?

17. opinion on insecurities.: I’ve had mine but I’ve always known self love and never ever have hated myself so when people just wallow about their flaws I don’t always know how to respond. It confuses me a little bit how they can stay in that state.

18. do you miss how things were a year ago?: Not at all. 

19. have you ever been to New York?: Not yet

20. what is your favourite song at the moment?: Imma Star- Timeflies ( I can rap the whole thing :)  )

21. age and birthday?: 21, June 8th. 

22. description of crush.: Always has a pun every 10 seconds, strong, caring, understanding, absolute gentleman

23. fear(s): Getting my impending concussion like my friends, losing Justin, not having enough money to live out on my own, spiders

24. height: 5′5

 25. role model: Dad, History teacher…I think he was my 9th or 10th grade teacher? 26. idol(s): Hm…

27. things i hate: Spiders, people who rape or sexually assault other people

28. i’ll love you if… You send me nice messages with your honesty, I like the little things :)

29. favourite film(s): Pirate Radio, What’s your number?, High Anxiety, Moonrise Kingdom, Barbarella, a lot of indie films, old films  and such too…

30. favourite tv show(s): Oh my god a lot….I watch a lot of funny shows and Korean Dramas. Atelier and Birdie Buddy really spoke to me along with a few other Korean Dramas.

31. 3 random facts: I can ski and snowboard both very well, I cant swim, I’m a yaoi manga fan

32. are your friends mainly girls or guys?: guys because I have some different humor that connects with them

33. something you want to learn: how to swim and play the banjo

34. most embarrassing moment: Oh my god…I have a million of these…

35. favourite subject: History

36. 3 dreams you want to fulfill?: Hm…

37. favourite actor/actress: Chris Evans

38. favourite comedian(s):  Oh my godddddddddd, this list is so long…

39. favourite sport(s): Skiing, snowboarding, uhm…

40. favourite memory: Heh…

41. relationship status: Taken

42. favourite book(s): OH MY GOD THIS LIST IS ENDLESS I SWEAR TO GOD

43. favourite song ever: OH MY GOD THIS LIST IS ENDLESS I SWEAR TO GOD

44. age you get mistaken for: 18-23

45. how you found out about your idol: Uhhh..?

46. what my last text message says:  Thanks Sweetheart *kissy face emoji*47. turn ons:funny, good teeth and nose, 

48. turn offs: Close minded, ignorant, mean, judgmental49. where i want to be right now: Home

50. favourite picture of your idol: Uhhhhhhhhhh, like school idol? Getting a lot of these idol questions

.51. starsign: Gemini 

52. something i’m talented at: Arts n Crafts

53. 5 things that make me happy: Skiing on spring days, candy, eatting when I know I’m paying so I can eat a lot, shopping for dresses, laying in bed at night playing my phone games.

54. something thats worrying me at the moment: The summer season at work due to shitty people I’m working with

55. tumblr friends: Drizzt, and then some girls names Darby, Bekah and Brooke but I guess I know them instead of being friends with them…oh and a friend who left but came back named Spencer  and I’d assume I have more but I dont really talk to people here

56. favourite food(s): sushi, candy, soup, all food…

57. favourite animal(s): Marine Life and bunnies

58. description of my best friend: Caring, punny, understanding, caring

59. why i joined tumblr: Seemed fun

60. ask me anything you want: Ask awayyyyyyy

[addictionfreedom]

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Aug 29, 2014 … My work on my book Slaying the Dragon: The History of Addiction Treatment and Recovery in America began in the mid-1970s when I sought to understand the roots of the field I was called to serve. I wanted to understand the historical cycles of alcohol and other drug problems in America and how the …

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[clubofinfo]

Expert: A change in Quantity also entails a change in Quality. ― Friedrich Engels No one can define or measure justice, democracy, security, freedom, truth, or love. No one can define or measure any value. But if no one speaks up for them, if systems aren’t designed to produce them, if we don’t speak about them and point toward their presence or absence, they will cease to exist. ― Donella H. Meadows, Thinking in Systems: A Primer If it seems self-serving and pedestrian to chronicle my own slice of heaven called Working as a Precariat USA, then so be it. I have read so much lately on climate science, on the science around the toxic earth, around the political-billionaire-millionaire miscreants, both male and female (Trump commuted this Kosher Millionaire Rabbi, in jail for bank fraud, 27 years, today, so expect other chosen people of the white collar criminal variety to be pardoned, let go, praised), and the on-going Scarlet Letter Outing of Men, therefore,  coming down out of the ether of punditry and mainstream-and-not-so-liberal-media to get my own ground-truthing framed in what is dog-eat-dog predatory capitalism turbo charged seems like sanity to me. I could get all British Lit on my reader by quoting John Donne, since inherently I am an entrenched systems thinker, a giver in the Ishmael sense, and understand the principles tied to cooperative evolution: No Man Is An Island No man is an island, Entire of itself, Every man is a piece of the continent, A part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less. As well as if a promontory were. As well as if a manor of thy friend’s Or of thine own were: Any man’s death diminishes me, Because I am involved in mankind, And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee. — John Donne And I could get all deep ecology on you, and cite a simple but profound set of laws tied to the notion of biomimicry by Janine Benyus: 9 Basic Principles of Biomimicry Nature runs on sunlight. Nature uses only the energy it needs. Nature fits form to function. Nature recycles everything. Nature rewards cooperation. Nature banks on diversity. Nature demands local expertise. Nature curbs excesses from within. Nature taps the power of limits. But my own little world coming into the Year 2018 (year of the dog) centers around my identity, or part of it, as assigned to me by Capitalists: my age, my gender, my sexuality, my race, my upbringing, my education, my wallet, my political affiliations, my religion, my abilities, my disabilities, my blind-spots, my enlightened self, my weight-height-strength, my IQ’s, my credit report, my military record, my criminal record, my work record, my health record, my belief system, and, well, my Google rating. There is no room in Capitalism for holism, seeing and talking about the “philosophy-ethos-spiritual me”! There’s so much more to us, most human beings, even deplorables, yet, in USA and the Matrix, it all boils down to what you do for a living, and what do you show materially from that living. I am still seething from a sacking, almost two months ago, which I have chronicled here and here and here, and part of that sacking was my questioning vaccine safety. My stories have gone viral, in a sense, tied to the educated and safety seekers looking at the vaccination movement. I am clumped into the realm of a large swath of people and organizations looking at the injuries, incapacitation and deaths caused by the forces of genetics in one’s self and vaccines. I am also connected vis-à-vis WWW to those groups doubting the legality and ethics of forcing people to get shot-up with drugs, from the US Air Force pilots protesting the so-called anthrax vaccine, to nurses against the latest flu shot, and those parents and advocates who do not want to be forced to have children pumped up with untested vaccines – 19 or more by age five (32 by age 15!). Many kids are getting shot up without parental (informed) consent. CDC’s dictum: The CDC has just launched a program that will calculate a catch-up schedule for children who were not vaccinated on schedule. A 5-year-old child who was not previously vaccinated would be required to receive 19 vaccines in one month, including 6 doses of aluminum-containing injections! This catch-up schedule was NOT tested for safety to determine the immediate or long-term risk of neurological or immunological damage. Let me back up. What happened to me, in a nutshell, is my right to free speech, my right to a safe, open and embracing classroom environment, and my right to be heard in regard to a complaint made by Planned Parenthood were ripped from my hands and vocal chords, so to speak, and ripped from myself as a human trying to do good as a social worker and make a living. I was in a class, at Planned Parenthood of the Great Northwest in the city of Seattle, two bastions (sic) of liberalism and supposed respect for diverse opinions. I’ve lived and worked there, Puget Sound, Seattle, and I have chronicled that sometimes nauseating place and the select citizens I call “unpeople” here at DV and other places. It is not the nirvana of liberalism, and it’s a place overcrowded, full of citizens who are homeless, and more precarious than success stories, with the rich and the Amazon and Bill Gates groupies high on their own flatulence. That’s another story. Mine now, as I go to interview after interview since my termination, to get back in the saddle, to get a job to survive, goes like this: I was told I could not finish day two of this almost mindless 16-hour class (we practiced saying vulva and penis in a circle while passing around stuffed animals!), because of the supposed crime of not believing all the news fit to print from the PR/propaganda engines of Big Pharma, Western Medicine and the vaccination makers (I was so much more contrite and reserved in my statements in the classroom of 45 people, four men and 41 women, than maybe the reader can imagine, but it’s true . . . and I have coworker witnesses to attest to it). I was also told (not directly, but through my employer, a non-profit in Portland) by three Planned Parenthood teachers (sic) that my broaching of Chinese traditional medicine and native American and other cultural systems of healing in a brief aside solicited by the teachers was not just NOT allowed but inflammatory and dangerous to the other students. Finally, these three PP people (and I suppose several supervisors behind the scenes) labeled me as a disruptive force to the learning environment, which is obscene since I was the picture of comportment and low-key engagement! I expected some decency from my bosses to get my story and my coworkers’ stories, but instead, I was railroaded out of the job. I did not work for Planned Parenthood, it must be stressed. Imagine the conflict of interest tied to Planned Parenthood making millions off of giving boys and girls and young adults the HPV vaccine, Gardasil, marketed by Merck. Planned Parenthood’s $350 million yearly budget is fed through Big Pharma donations and, of course, taxpayer grants/funding. The sex ed classes Planned Parenthood delivers to my clients and to social workers is funded by public coffers. Planned Parenthood also has an international division, and teamed up with Bill and Melinda, Big Pharma and those killer philanthropists who want the great white hope of their messed up lives to be the every glowing smile of Third World victims of structural violence, agricultural rape, mass drug/vaccine experiments, and a new form of Facebook happy meal eugenics. Planned Parenthood also has a political arm, lobbying for their own special interests, some worthy, other nefarious. Even though I never got into a vaccine debate with Planned Parenthood, really, truthfully, the trainers took a couple of off-the-record anonymous comments written down by me around not appreciating Planned Parenthood taking the side of pharmaceutical hook-line-and-sinker as proof of my heresy and radical view. Hell, how hard is it to surf the internet and find peer-reviewed and millions of anecdotal stories about vaccine injuries and incapacitation and death, tied to the HPV vaccine? There are huge issues tied to the rotten lies of the vaccine makers and distributors here: Vaxxed Movie HPVVaxxed Movie Greater Good Movie Sacrificial Virgins – Not for the Greater Good – Part 1, 2, 3 Sacrificial Virgins. TV3 HPV Documentary Does anyone need Gardasil? Colombia 2017: “Fue el Gardasil” (Gardasil Did It) – Abridged version A hard look at the National Vaccine Injury Compensation Program and the families desperately trying to navigate their way through it. The Vaccine Court looks at the mysterious and often unknown world of the National Vaccine Injury Compensation Program (NVICP), the only recourse for seeking compensation for those who have been injured by a vaccine. The NVICP, better known as the ”Vaccine Court,” however, is not without controversy Medical Doctors Opposed to Forced Vaccinations: Should Their Views be Silenced? Bill Gates $10 Billion Vaccine Scam Mandatory Swine Flu Vaccination Alert The Washington Vaccination Ploy: Puerto Rico And The Zika Quandary Making The HPV Vaccine Mandatory Is Bad Medicine Supreme Court Pulls Up Government Of India Over Licensing And Trials With “Cervical Cancer” Vaccines Readying Americans For Dangerous, Mandatory Vaccinations Judicial Watch HPV Vaccine McCarthyism. What if the Vaccine Paradigm itself is Deliberately Flawed? Did 2014 Mark the Collapse of the Vaccine Establishment? Dr. Gary Null – Archive, Vaccines, Global Research This is the world we are in a nutshell – liberals attacking independent thinkers, radicals on the left like me. The Politically Corrective forces of the liberal class and the big businesses like those outfits run like Planned Parenthood have the power to tell my Portland, Oregon, bosses I am dismissed from a mandatory training, and then, my job as social worker ends in termination with a sham of an investigation. It’s easy to be resentful of the powers that be, in this case, Democratic Party females who wanted me shut up, shut down, out of social work! Two and two put together, in a simple sense, is that my few words voiced in a calm, respectful manner at a Planned Parenthood course (repeat, tax payer funded training) on the Fundamentals of Sex (sex ed) precipitated a termination, and now a bruise on my reputation is growing like a hematoma of gigantic proportions. Does anyone think finding a job, a replacement job, is easy now that I was terminated and now that I have voiced all of this on the worldwide net? Readers must know the particular nature of employment in the Portland, Oregon, area, which is now becoming Califi-cadia, and the fact many people from bigger cities, back east, too, have been coming out here for the evergreens, rivers, snowboarding, beer and (back a few years), more millionaire-affordable-friendly homes and income rentals. The competition for rare jobs with my background, and for someone like me – radical and dissident — is steep. I know a lot of writers who are more or less safe economically or job wise that could never understand and maybe empathize with my predicament. “Damaged goods, and why have you stagnated in this lowly field with so much going for you in your thirties and forties? Graduate degrees and writing awards. What’s up with that? It must be something about you – your big mouth, something.” Variations on that theme. Now in the scheme of things, I am reminded daily, I am not a head of a family in Yemen, or journalist in Myanmar, or working as a teacher in Mexico, or plying my trade as social worker in Honduras, or living the dissident’s life as a Palestinian activist in Gaza, so I should count my lucky stars. All of that goes without saying, for sure, and in the global scheme of things, this is merely a bump in my life inside the United States of Israel’s financial and surveillance hall of mirrors (read Robert Fisk’s smart take on the United States of Israel rather than the cartoon prophecies above linked) Yet, for me to have any traction on my thinking about how screwed up America is, from the towers of the three men who own half of all USA wealth, to the drone shops helping immolate wedding parties and sleeping babies, to the absurdity of the duopoly political class, to the ever-eviscerating communities from shore to shining shore, I have to go personal, in the now, as the idiocy and injustices unfold for me, from my pennyante perspective. I understand how to make those allusions and comparisons to my brothers and sisters in arms in much more dire circumstances. This bizarre situation at a Planned Parenthood training demonstrates the power of the forces of stupidity and lock step thinking running certain parts of America’s grand illusion kabuki show; and for me, a rare male in the business of social worker, this has been a reckoning with an upside-down world of social services run by women, some of whom are as uncaring and dictatorial and unethical as their male counterparts who they dis all the time. Here I am, on a second lawyer listening to me and contemplating the veracity of some wrongful termination suit, looking at whistle-blower laws, and positing possible gender-age-religious discrimination. The first legal outfit I dealt with is a non-profit and stated they were spread too thin to handle my case. “If only you were disabled, African-American, a veteran, homosexual, and living with PTSD and a speech impediment.” In so many words, that was the prognosis. The new lawyer says, “Look, you were terminated for being ‘argumentative’ and ‘aggressive.’ For a white heterosexual man, that’s a no-no. But, if you were a woman, and were ‘combative’, they’d see that as passionate and demonstrable of being a great advocate for her clients, as an honorable thing showing you are willing to be there fully supporting clients. They’d say ‘aggressive’ for a woman would be justified and more akin to being smart, focused, confident and ready to take on challenges and advocate for your clients and a worthy way to make real changes for the female gender. And, one man’s arguing is another woman’s opining. ” This coming from a female lawyer . . . The world according to the felons running the show, whether it’s political, private capital, big business, and big non-profit and big government, well, my mother told me at a young age, 16: “Your mouth and your passion and your sense of justice and your anti-authority character and constant questioning will get you fired . . . expect a lonely path to old age and a rocky series of rites of passage . . . make family important, friendships key, and follow that vision quest and obsession with putting nature right. As long as you continue understanding why you are where you are, why there are no laurels awaiting you, and why the powers that be do not want you in the same room, then you are possibly more realized and actualized than most.” Something along those lines, Mona from British Columbia used to say, but alas, the story is never ending, and the gifts that capitalism and elitism and Empire just keep on giving are those that really give it to us. Daily and second-by-second-by-nanosecond. As the daily diet of perversions and accusations of perversion, sexual harassment, sexual assault, and all things in between rape and coming on to a woman, it is a wonder anyone can think straight about what it means to be men and women working toward justice, toward universal human rights. I’ve read over at the World Socialist Website stories about how the #MeToo movement is a witch hunt, and while perusing the comments sections, I am feeling as if I am living in the 1950s, or in the Trump-Billy Bush-Howard Stern locker-room with the outward misogyny: All of this is being ignored in the campaign over sexual harassment. Class divisions are covered up beneath the claim that all women, regardless of their income, share the same “experience” of being oppressed by men, who, particularly if they are white, enjoy the benefits of the “privileged.” The sexual harassment campaign is right-wing, antidemocratic and politically reactionary. It has nothing to do with the interests of the workers, men or women. Some of WSWS writer Joseph Kishore’s points are well taken, like there has to be a delineation between something said versus something done, and that there has to be a fair airing of accusations, fairness, and of course, innocence before guilt and a fair answering to allegations. But, are there more important things in the world than a Saturday Night Live comic groping women at state fairs as his role as senator? Isn’t this what we have succumbed to, this cult of celebrity? And, are we really all crocodile teary about millionaires and multi-multi millionaires losing jobs in entertainment (who could count a Charlie Rose as a journalist, or a classical conductor as anything more than entertainer?). Lost in the entire defense, of course, is that having these creeps masturbate in front of you is a crime, really, public exposure, to say the least. How many of my clients, homeless, living in shit cities with no public restrooms or toilets, get arrested for public urination, and if seen by someone who complains, it’s three times and you are labeled a sex offender. Lost in this millionaires’ game of exposing genitals and spreading semen, is that who in hell would want their nieces, daughters, wives and sons and brothers put to this test: capitalist men in power, or some form of power stretched down the line far from the corridors of the political and arts and entertainment domains, exposing themselves in front of loved ones? Who wants some actor or director or editor grabbing their loved ones and friends, or mauling girls and women in public or private against their wills? Is this the nature of some of these so-called leftists rebuffing the calling out of the perverts? Any manner of stupidity tied to lecherous behavior in the workplace, and this power dynamic of keeping a job or getting one or a better position based on some male actor’s or journalist’s or CEO’s demented sexual game or worse, sexual assault, should be called out and dealt with. Is there presumed innocence? Come on, in an at-will state, in a world of precarity, we are all guilty, hence the mandatory background-credit-work history-drug-medical history checks, even before employment. The fact that these conservative money-grubbing outfits like PBS or NBC or Uber or Walmart are sacking people before a fair trial or investigation, it does speak to the power of Capitalism. All of that is unethical, and unfair, but I see no massive wave of people defending the rights of the worker, the rights of maids and hotel workers and fast-food workers and restaurant servers or anyone working in you-name-the-field to not only not have to live with sexual harassment and quid pro quo but also with unlivable wages, precarious jobs, wage theft, and lack of say in the workplace. But here, again, blaming the victims, as if women or men ever had the rights and backing to confront bad bosses and bad decisions and harassment and workplace dangers and on and on, but we have the “well if women are going to be Playboy bunnies, then all women are game . . . .” Kim Kardashian is famous for one thing – her opulent and well-televised derriere. Miley Cyrus has a music video where she swings around buck naked on a wrecking ball, Beyonce is applauded for her “daring feminine rights” song, during which she and her backup singers dress like strippers and dance around poles, the Russian group, Pussy Riot, who have done performances in which they use raw chicken parts to simulate masturbation, were invited to visit the US Congress and were given a standing ovation when they did so, rappers make millions with music videos where women are denigrated and used as props to dance around showing their behinds to the camera, hundreds of women in the US have participated in so-called “slut riots” where they stalk down major thoroughfares in their undergarments just to prove they can and they are lauded for their “daring bravery”, and tens of thousands of Americans routinely enroll their daughters in beauty pageants each year, where they will be judged on their physical attributes. And yet, anonymous decades-old allegations with vague references to some sort of “something offensive” (not offensive enough for the accuser to have taken action when the “something” occurred, however), are horrifying and can wipe out careers overnight. This is absurd, and we are also not in some revolutionary moment, some civil rights for women movement stitched into Hollywood’s obvious depravities on many levels. The stinking world I live and work in is all about political correctiveness, about demeaning HR folk, about top-heavy administrations, about supervisors who could care less about turnover of employees, who are there to berate or control. Daily, the stupidity of people in my profession – social services – belies a compliant field and brow-beater middling people in positions of authority. They will fawn over Obama or Hillary. Imagine, calling black youth “super predators” (Clinton, Trump). Imagine, bragging about being a good killer and laughing about using “drones on any of my daughters’ boyfriends that get out of line” (Obama). Imagine Madeline Albright saying a million dead Iraqis as a result of US-imposed sanctions was just the business (as usual) of the United States, LLC (collateral damage in keeping with the USA’s economic security). Imagine the bayonet rape of Libya both figuratively and literally with Qaddafi and the smirk from Mrs. Clinton! I get canned – kicked out of “liberal” Planned Parenthood’s Seattle offices and then fired from a female-run and largely female-staffed non-profit that pays marketing firms to PR their reputation as caring leaders in mental health services? I just mentioned briefly a vaccine and alternative forms of medicine. As brief as three sentences written and thirty spoken words. Sacked, frog-marched out of work, and my young clients, left hanging, many in crisis. We live in an upside-down world, where this Obama gets laughs and giggles joking about using drones on his daughters’ boyfriends if they get out of line, yet, if the great pretender Obama were to mention the bust and butt of Beyonce after her Super Bowl performance, Obama would have been derided, chided or worse, censored. Maybe! I think I started this post around what it means to be a man, a father, a son, a grandson, and, partner/significant other/husband. Man, in the 1980’s, I was teaching Robert Bly, Iron John, and got attacked on all sides of the issues around mentoring boys into men, around the general thesis Bly was impregnating that book with. He talked about the inner boy in a screwed up family may “keep on being shamed, invaded, disappointed, and paralyzed for years and years.” Bly talked about how boys and men in the USA feel like victims in that messed up family. Bly was attempting to close the door to that victimhood. He talked about the inner warrior to defend “their soul houses” from invasions. It was that warrior, for both men and women, people lambasted Bly, yet, come one, look at today, 2017, 13 years after the book was published. Talk about bad people! BAD PEOPLE A man told me once that all the bad people Were needed. Maybe not all, but your fingernails You need; they are really claws, and we know Claws. The sharks—what about them? They make other fish swim faster. The hard-faced men In black coats who chase you for hours In dreams—that’s the only way to get you To the shore. Sometimes those hard women Who abandon you get you to say, “You.” A lazy part of us is like a tumbleweed. It doesn’t move on its own. Sometimes it takes A lot of Depression to get tumbleweeds moving. Then they blow across three or four States. This man told me that things work together. Bad handwriting sometimes leads to new ideas; And a careless god—who refuses to let people Eat from the Tree of Knowledge—can lead To books, and eventually to us. We write Poems with lies in them, but they help a little.” ― Robert Bly, Morning Poems What is it about American Men, about this country’s 70-plus approval of all soldiers, all military, all mercenaries in our armies and navies and air forces and marines? What is it about this country’s women either defending Hillary as the best role model for girls, or those women who voted in the Moore-Jones election, for Moore, of course? What is it about white women and loving Trump, those that do, and those who love Hillary? They have no inner warriors. What is it about the white males holding the purse strings, many of them Jewish, as the Jewish web sites and newspapers and columnists continue to glower over. Reading the Israeli and the Jewish voices in print, I am seeing how an untenable Zionism and Judaism is, more concerted and extreme in xenophobia than the ultra-Christians in this country. I end with this interesting look at father-son: The changing times are evident in the debate about a current piece of legislation that could be the biggest change to labor law since the days when Marcus’s father was working as a carpenter. The Employee Free Choice Act, which was introduced in both the House and the Senate in March, would change labor law from the 1930s in order to make it easier for unions to organize workers. Today, as in the ’30s, there are a number of influential Jewish union leaders supporting the legislation. But unlike in the ’30s, a few Jewish voices have surfaced as among the most influential opponents of the legislation. Marcus is frequently mentioned among the leading voices opposing the free choice act. In a famous phone call discussing the legislation with other business executives, he said, “This is how a civilization disappears.” That echoed the words of another child of poor Jewish immigrants, Sheldon Adelson, the casino magnate and Jewish philanthropist who told The Wall Street Journal that EFCA is “one of the two fundamental threats to society,” along with Islamism. Marcus also has worked closely with the lobbyist leading the anti-EFCA charge, Rick Berman, who has waded into Jewish communal waters to make his argument that the current unions have no connection with the old ones to which Berman’s father belonged. Many on both sides of the current legislation say that a traditional sympathy for labor that existed in the Jewish community has given way to antipathy in a number of very prominent quarters, with sometimes complicated consequences. Amy Dean, who is active in both the labor world and the Jewish community, says she often encounters people “who have this very warm spot for the labor movement, but it’s sort of romantic and historical. They have these warm feelings for the role of the garment unions, but they think it’s not a modern movement that they want to embrace. We have a huge dissonance within the Jewish community about the labor movement.” For Berman, this dissonance has appeared in his own family: His son David Berman, a founder of the rock bands Pavement and the Silver Jews, has vociferously attacked his father’s stance on labor unions. “Jews should always identify with the disadvantaged,” the younger Berman (David) wrote to the Forward. “You cannot ‘graduate’ to a life of self-interest and exploitation.” Berman, Marcus and Adelson appear to have played a role in halting EFCA’s progress through Congress. While passage looked like a sure thing earlier this year, when Barack Obama took office, the bill’s prospects have dimmed as a number of key senators have announced their opposition to it. It is perhaps fitting that the senator whose opposition represented a turning point was Pennsylvania Republican-turned-Democrat Arlen Specter, the child of Jewish immigrant parents. People such as Specter and Marcus do not see the issue of EFCA in Jewish terms, but they acknowledge that they are frequently contending with history when they take up the current legislation or any other labor issues. … This meant that rabbis would often mediate labor disputes between Jewish workers and bosses, and many of the most prominent Jewish business owners at the time — names like Macy and Gimbels — worked closely with unions. Back in 1935, when the National Labor Relations Act was passed, the influential, and heavily Jewish, garment unions in New York City rallied working men and women to provide crucial popular support for the legislation. Historians note that Jews had hardly any presence in groups that opposed the legislation; they were often barred from entering the national business associations. Since that time, of course, the Jewish community has largely followed the route of Marcus out of the tenements and into the business class. The 2001 National Jewish Population Survey found that 36% of Jewish households reported income above $75,000 — twice the percentage in the population at large. … Nowhere is the dissonance on these points more evident than in the rather personal battle being waged by Berman, the leading lobbyist against unions and EFCA in Washington. Berman has long been a lightning rod for criticism, thanks to the work that his firm, Berman and Company, has done on behalf of such corporate interests as the tobacco and alcohol industries. Berman’s recent work against unions — his firm has spent $25 million on advertisements against EFCA — has won him enemies not only within the labor movement, but also within his own rather prominent family. In January of this year, his son David announced in an Internet post that he was leaving his latest music project, the Silver Jews. He took the opportunity to launch an attack on his lobbyist father. “My father is a despicable man,” the younger Berman wrote in the January 22 post on the message board of his record label, Drag City. The first specific charge that Berman levied against his father was that he is a “union buster.” In an e-mail interview with the Forward, David Berman said that his father — and his father’s generation — had become disconnected from the hardship of their grandparents. Both of Rick Berman’s grandfathers worked in the New York garment industry. “My grandparents are good people, raised by good Jews,” the younger Berman wrote to the Forward, “but their children are just living lives of meaningless acquisition. Within two generations, all memory of injustice is forgotten.” What is lost in all of this sadism created by both parties, all the movers and shakers with millions stuffed in pockets, the billionaires like the following have set up empires of shame with their billions upon billions. Like Bill Gates, Michael Bloomberg ($35.5 billion), Mark Zuckerbeg ($33.4 billion), Sheldon Adelson ($31.4 billion), and Shari Arison, like Google co-founders Sergey Brin and Larry Page ($29.2 and $29.7 billion); investors George Soros ($24.2 billion), Carl Icahn ($23.5 billion) and Len Blavatnik ($20.2 billion), and Dell Computer Founder Michael Dell ($19.2 billion);  like Larry Ellison ($54.2 billion), Russ Weiner, the founder and CEO of Rockstar energy drinks, Jerry Reinsdorf, the owner of the Chicago Bulls and the Chicago White Sox sports franchises, and Ken Grossman, a co-founder of the Sierra Nevada Brewing Co. Weiner is the son of prominent conservative radio talk show host Michael Savage (born Michael Weiner); like Seth Klarman, an investor in the Times of Israel, is also on the list, with a net worth of $1.5 billion. Within two generations of those death camps, David Berman states, his family and tribal line have become despicable in many cases, taking advantage of power, tax dodges, military-pharmacy-finance-computing-legal-retail larceny on a very global scale. Those sins of the father, ugh? Daddy Sylvia Plath, 1932 – 1963 You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo. Daddy, I have had to kill you. You died before I had time— Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, Ghastly statue with one gray toe Big as a Frisco seal And a head in the freakish Atlantic Where it pours bean green over blue In the waters off beautiful Nauset. I used to pray to recover you. Ach, du. In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. But the name of the town is common. My Polack friend Says there are a dozen or two. So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, I never could talk to you. The tongue stuck in my jaw. It stuck in a barb wire snare. Ich, ich, ich, ich, I could hardly speak. I thought every German was you. And the language obscene An engine, an engine Chuffing me off like a Jew. A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. I began to talk like a Jew. I think I may well be a Jew. The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna Are not very pure or true. With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack I may be a bit of a Jew. I have always been scared of you, With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. And your neat mustache And your Aryan eye, bright blue. Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You— Not God but a swastika So black no sky could squeak through. Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you. You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not Any less the black man who Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do. But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look And a love of the rack and the screw. And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I’m finally through. The black telephone’s off at the root, The voices just can’t worm through. If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two— The vampire who said he was you And drank my blood for a year, Seven years, if you want to know. Daddy, you can lie back now. There’s a stake in your fat black heart And the villagers never liked you. They are dancing and stamping on you. They always knew it was you. Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through. http://clubof.info/

[morningrainmusic]

Top 25 Albums of 2017

A lot of very good albums came out in 2017. These are my favorite 25, with some thoughts on each of them. See you in the new year.

Best,

The Staff of Morning Rain Music

25. Ty Segall – Ty Segall  Almost all of Ty Segall’s albums (there are a lot) are made to be turned up to 11. His second self-titled release is no exception. Segall said of the live recorded album, “There’s something about a band in a room – it’s a feeling you can’t replicate. There’s a feel to the music. The band is so good, and I love the feel of this record.” So do I.

24. The Feelies – In Between  I took one journalism class in college. The professor would play music before starting lectures and I vividly remember one class when he played The Feelies and then talked about how great and underappreciated they are for a little while. I don’t recall much else from the class, but I remember that. I wonder what Greg Downey is up to now.

23. Mount Eerie – A Crow Looked at Me A Crow Looked at Me is this year’s Skeleton Tree (Nick Cave’s 2016 musical tribute to his late son). To call Phil Eleverum’s meditation on the death of his wife a slog of misery would be a profound understatement. Listen to it and feel his utter despair.

22. Fleet Foxes – Crack-Up  Fleet Foxes’ return after six years on hiatus isn’t as triumphant as Helplessness Blues, but it’s a bold and invigorating odyssey of an album that could only come from the questioning, adventurous minds of Robin Pecknold et al.

21. Ryan Adams – Prisoner I got really into Adams’ Heartbreaker this year. Could this have primed me to enjoy Prisoner more? It has been called his best and most personal record since his 2000 debut. You be the judge, I guess.

20. Chastity Belt – I used to spend so much time alone If The National are music’s reigning “sad bastard” kings, Chastity Belt’s latest album make them contenders for the spot as queens. Or “sad bastardesses” maybe. A quick glance at the track-list is a pretty good indication of what you’re in for—“Stuck,” “What the Hell,” “5am,” “Bender.” These aren’t exactly pit of despair bummer songs. They lack the “look at me” dramatics of The Smiths or Joy Division. Chastity Belt keep it low-key, conveying something of a slow-crippling, dejected resignation that’s truer to life. If I’ve just made this record sound like complete agony, let me assure you, it’s not. I used to spend has some pep in its step—a bit of that Pacific Northwest punk spunk. One of the guitar breaks in “Something Else” even slightly recalls The Cranberries’ “Dreams.” So it won’t completely overwhelm with its ruminations on feelings of self-loathing/emptiness. For that kind of experience, turn to Mount Eerie.

19. A. Savage – Thawing Dawn Thawing Dawn  has some glaring flaws, but I listened to it a lot in 2017 because I really like it. Andrew Savage (who is in a band called Parquet Courts, you might’ve heard of them) has an everyman’s voice that sounds like a too-clever-for-his-own-good friend talking to you on the subway, regardless of whether you’re actually listening (“Eyeballs”). He also delivers a tender, slow-burning love song (“Wild, Wild, Wild Horses”) and a full-blown country waltz, slide guitar and all (“Phantom Limbo”). It doesn’t all work (see the church organ-heavy dud “Untitled” and overly drawn-out existential crisis-mode plod of “What Do I Do”). But something about the rest of Thawing Dawn, imperfections and all, is simply pleasant and demanding of the occasional revisit.

18. Kevin Morby – City Music If you like Bob Dylan (any era) you will probably like at least a handful of Kevin Morby songs. This may seem like a lazy assertation since the same could reasonably be said about a few dozen current artists, but I feel the comparison is worth making because Morby leans into the Dylan-ness a bit further on City Music, the follow-up to last year’s also excellent Singing Saw. The influence, of course, is not accidental and it isn’t limited to Morby’s charmingly wooden vocal delivery. City Music finds Morby getting even more introspective, a tad emotional and notably more poetic. One of the highlights is the ambling, groove-laden title track, which is preceded by a short Flannery O’Connor passage read by musician Meg Baird. The track gradually builds to a rapturous rave-up with Morby shouting the lyrics (there are only fifteen distinct words in the whole song). Play it fuckin’ loud. Side note: “Caught in My Eye” is a great introductory song to this album and Morby in general.

17. The xx – I See You  The xx, a band known for hushed tones and stark minimalism, broke free and brought dancehall spirit to their brooding songs. I See You is a natural next step in the group’s evolution.

16. The National – Sleep Well Beast  The National are not everyone’s bag, and understandably so. They require time and attention, which people seem to have less and less of these days. For those who do though, and are inclined to give The National a chance, the experience is a rewarding one. On Sleep Well Beast they do a bit of everything—rock out, wail lovelorn agonies, get glitchy, and mutter cryptic lyrics. I’d like to know who “dead John” in “Carin at the Liquor” store is, one of the record’s strongest, and most National-y tracks. But then again, The National are with each new record proving that they’re quite adept at going in a lot of different directions.

15. Hiss Golden Messenger – Hallelujah Anyhow  Hallelujah Anyhow is a record that seems to have slipped through the cracks. That’s a shame because MC Taylor creates the kind of terrific country-ish folk rock that should make any self-respecting music fan who’s ever picked up a Lumineers or Mumford and Sons record seriously question some of his or her life choices—no offense to those bands. Listen to “Harder Rain” and tell me that isn’t dang good southern rock music. But really, listen to the whole album.

14. Aimee Mann – Mental Illness  Aimee Mann does here what she does best, which is craft melancholy portraits of life’s disappointments. And she does so beautifully. It’s a strange and strangely uplifting album. Also, it might be the most universally enjoyable album on this list.

13. LCD Soundsystem – American Dream James Murphy broke up his band when they were seemingly at the height of their popularity, threw a huge goodbye concert/party in Madison Square Garden, and then spent years puttering around with coffee, wine, and musical turnstiles. All the while he was (presumably) wondering why the hell he called it quits. LCD Soundsystem’s new album which, as recently as three years ago was never supposed to exist, is a solid homecoming that retreads their well-established punk meets electro art-rock style with some new tricks. They have a long history of spastic, challenging songs and American Dream contains the most in terms both of quantity of tracks that fit this bill and quality (the challenging-ness, that is). If you don’t like their first album (or the genre they’re working in) don’t bother. That being said, songs like “how do you sleep,” “oh baby,” “tonite,” “emotional haircut,” and “call the police” bring the goods dance-wise. Album closer/bonus track “pulse (v. 1)” finds LCD going full techno for almost fourteen minutes. So yeah, it’s good to have James Murphy and co. back again.

12. Alvvays – Antisocialites  Alvvays, is one of those little indie bands that could. The spelling of their name is stupid. The songs they make are sunny and catchy. Lead singer Molly Rankin wrote much of the album “in isolation in an abandoned schoolroom” on the Toronto Islands. Taking your word on that one, Spotify “about” section.

11. Japanese Breakfast – Soft Sounds from Another Planet  Soft Sounds could be called a distant cousin of Frankie Rose’s Interstellar from 2012. Both Rose and Japanese Breakfast’s Michelle Zauner sing in angelic tones, inspired by distant worlds in the infinite cosmos. Zauner, however, thinks a bit bigger, and quite a lot hookier too. I’m talking about entrancingly dreamy, poppy, shoegazing tunes that shoot for the stars and land firmly in the heart. Fantastic song titles too, like “Here Come the Tubular Bells,” “Jimmy Fallon Big!,” and my personal favorite, “The Body is a Blade,” also one of the standout tracks on an album full of those.

10. Vince Staples – Big Fish Theory  Between songs during Vince Staples�� set at Pitchfork Music Festival in July, I leaned over to a friend and said I think Staples could be the next Kendrick Lamar. He looked at me quizzically and said, “I think he already is.” It was a bit of a “no duh” moment and one listen to Big Fish Theory proves the comparison to be accurate. It’s a club-ready banger of an album with sharp rhymes and an aggressive current running through it. “745” is, give me permission to write this just one time, the trillest track of the year. It also echoes Lamar’s “Backseat Freestyle” with the repeated “all I want” lyric.

9. Spoon – Hot Thoughts By now, everyone who gives a damn about good music should recognize Spoon as one of the most reliably great bands of the last twenty years. Hot Thoughts sees them stretching their legs, experimenting with some new sounds, but always sounding like Spoon, which is to say cool, confident, sexy, and slick.

8. The Courtneys – II  I feel like The Courtneys should be bigger. Maybe not huge, but definitely a lot bigger. They’re three gals from LA by way of Vancouver who love 90s pop culture and write songs that fall somewhere between candidly wise (“Tour”) and endearingly goofy (“Lost Boys”). There’s also a Big Star-inspired track (“Country Song”), one about a guy moving to the cold North Country (“Minnesota”), and one about iron deficiency (“Iron Deficiency”). Everything is up-tempo and there’s nothing not to like.

7. Lost Balloons – Hey Summer How do you feel about fuzzy, sentimental jangle-pop? How about infectious melodies sung by a guy from Japan? How about deep left-field bands cracking the top ten of MRM’s best albums list? Those questions are rhetorical and this album is very good. Lost Balloons’ Jeff Burke and Yusuke Okada crept under the radar for a while, but they’ve earned the seven spot with a record full of sprightly, mournful ditties. They’re what the characters of Sing Street call, “happy-sad.”

6. Mac DeMarco – This Old Dog The pepperoni playboy is so good at making excellent, laid-back, reflective indie-rock, it feels like only three full-length records in, folks are already taking him for granted. I’ve seen very little love for This Old Dog on other year-end lists…what gives? It’s the most stripped back and mature-sounding of DeMarco’s work so far. Is Mac more fun when he’s singing about the lighthearted aspects of life? Of course. But listening to a song like “Dreams from Yesterday,” it becomes clear that this gap-toothed goofball is at his best when he gets into the deep stuff.

5. Alex Cameron – Forced Witness Part of me can’t believe one of the year’s best albums is by a dude who sings about prowling for women on the web, benching other guys’ bodyweight, and how he’s “packing heat” under his jeans. What’s so remarkable about Forced Witness is how easily it could have been a complete disaster. Adopting a stage persona this crass and outlandish requires an unwavering commitment to the character and, more importantly, having the musical chops to back it up. Cameron and right-hand man on the sax Roy Malloy deliver both, with a batch of killer tunes that weave tales of pathetic delusion, macho posturing, and (perhaps unexpectedly) extreme vulnerability. The carefully crafted façade Cameron takes on is one of the most entertaining aspects of these songs, but it’s how sadly desperate for connection his brazenly low-life characters are that make many of them perversely beautiful. Cameron mixes uninhibited rock star swagger with portraits of seedy, disturbed individuals from the underbelly—like Springsteen, Zevon, and 80s Joel all rolled into one greasy-haired goon. The results are mesmerizing.

4. Mount Kimbie – Love What Survives The opening two songs of Love What Survives sometimes remind me of a terrific movie from this year, the Safdie brothers’ Good Time. The film’s music by Oneohtrix Point Never is a completely different brand of jittery electronic from Mount Kimbie, but these songs produce images of urban menace and escalating panic that, if you’ve seen the film, you’ll understand why they would fit snugly in its world. But then, three tracks in, the record pivots. “Audition” and album standout “Marilyn” slide in to cleanse the palate, providing a hazy, coolly detached warmth. If that sounds a bit enigmatic and contradictory, that’s because it is. This is the brilliance of Love What Survives, an album that earns the distinction of 2017’s breakout revelation. The genre Mount Kimbie occupies is admittedly not my area of expertise, but if ever I was asked to recommend an album of UK-based electronic/“post-dubstep” to a total neophyte, this might be the record. Built around a half dozen guest vocalists including James Blake and King Krule, Love What Survives is a gorgeous collage of sounds—organic and industrial, familiar and foreign, soothing and unsettling—that has a truly captivating effect. And while it is not the best of album of 2017, it is the most fascinating.

3. Lorde – Melodrama  I want to begin by saying I think the music of Taylor Swift is pretty much irrelevant to Lorde. They are both massive female pop stars with fiercely loyal fanbases and, as it would happen, the two are pals (or at least they present themselves publicly as such). Stylistically though, all the two have in common is that their songs fall into the (depending on your point of view) ever-broadening or frustratingly narrow genre of mainstream pop. The reason I bring Swift up is because 1989, which is now just over three years old, seems to be the unanimously agreed upon best pop album of recent memory—it is also the highest selling. Its appeal is near-universal and it is indeed, a stellar album. I’m here to tell you that Lorde’s Melodrama is even better. This is a collection of moody and electrifying songs whose consistent quality is made more impressive by the fact that her previous record is similarly fantastic. Loosely based around the concept of a night spent partying, Melodrama is the rare example of pop music that transcends its generic conventions and manages to be both a supremely satisfying get-up-and-dance record as well as a thoughtful reflection on youth, romance, and the fleeting nature of both.

2. Kendrick Lamar – DAMN. Crown him folks. Kendrick Lamar, best rapper alive. What’s that? We already did that? Okay then, if you weren’t sure before, you ought to be now. The man can do it all. DAMN. is a rightfully ALL CAPS PERIOD rap record that tackles everything from heritage to crippling self-doubt to our divided nation and racism like no one else can. When it comes to beats, flow, intelligence, and charisma Lamar is in a category of his own. “There’s a difference between black artists and whack artists, ” Lamar raps on “ELEMENT.” He’s not wrong.

1. The War on Drugs – A Deeper Understanding  This is a blog so ridiculously unread that the point of keeping it up at times feels woefully nonexistent—I sometimes question why I don’t just shut it all down to the dismay of no one. Why post something on the internet for it to be utterly unnoticed? The same question could be posed to the tens of thousands of other amateur music bloggers across the country with year-end lists that probably look a lot like this one. I don’t know what their reasons might be. Complete lack of awareness? Blissful ignorance? The self-assigned obligation of a shameless vanity project? Mine, for the little it’s worth, is an unadulterated love of rock music and a compulsion to champion the uncompromising musicians that make compelling art. That’s a mission statement of sorts, generic and predictable as it may be, for a largely inactive blog run by a guy who listens to and reads a lot about rock music. That’s all this is. And since I’m on the subject of big cliché statements and uncommissioned content that oversaturates this largely vapid world wide web, here’s an undercooked question whose answer is as subjective as it is insignificant: What is the state of rock and roll in 2017? Reading Collin Brennan’s COS piece from early this year, in which he mines bands like Japandroids, Cloud Nothings, Jay Som, and Real Estate for something resembling a conclusion, I got to thinking about this question myself. Then I got to thinking about The War On Drugs and how they fit into this tired conversation. Here’s what I know to be true: rock and roll, contrary to what people may tell you, does not require a new roster of fresh-faced superstars. It does not need to dominate the charts. It does not need to be young people’s genre of choice, the soundtrack of a revolution, and it certainly doesn’t need to lazily repackage the sound of former greats. Don’t call The War on Drugs or any other band for that matter, “saviors of rock” because rock doesn’t need saving.

Artists like The War on Drugs, albums like A Deeper Understanding are proof that rock and roll’s health report is just fine. The Philadelphia-based band, led by studio obsessive Adam Granduciel, are endearing underdogs: the guys that rose from indie obscurity to fame-straddling heights on the back of an exceptional, critically adored 2014 release. They have made a name for themselves by borrowing from the best. A little Dire Straits, a lot of Bruce, some Ghost is Born-era Wilco distortion, Granduciel’s hushed, Dylan-esque drawl—their sound is built from a foundation of musical greats. These influences are easily recognized on A Deeper Understanding, but it never sounds like mimicry. Instead, it sounds like reverence. Steven Hyden (who also named it the best album of 2017) put it nicely, writing about how the record doesn’t actually sound like the artists the WOD are so frequently compared to. “It does sound like your memories of that questing, widescreen heartland rock music,” he writes. “This is what Adam Graunduciel does best: He evokes the spirit of classic rock’s past without ever literally replicating Bryan Adams’ gruff vocals, Mark Knopfler’s bluesy guitar, or Born In The USA‘s glockenspiels.” The band has mutated their sound over the years from rootsy to atmospheric to this new incarnation, which could be called “quietly epic.” This phenomenon comes across best in a song like “Thinking of a Place,” the eleven-minute opus that somehow doesn’t feel a second too long. “Strangest Thing” builds to the point where its swelling guitar motif will forcibly displace you from whatever you are occupied with and once it’s over you’ll need a moment to come back to Earth. “Nothing To Find” is the breeziest on the record, and equally suited for a large amphitheater or a car stereo on an open road. I could go on and on, but I won’t. This album will not knock you on your ass or change the way you think about music. It’s not the best thing since Nevermind, it’s not even the best album by this band. Here’s what it is: an engrossing sonic experience marked by lush guitars, heartland synths, and a whole lot of things being very strongly felt—longing, nostalgia, confinement, and of course, pain. It’s the kind of album that hits you at your core without sounding like it’s trying too hard to. If the question, “is rock and roll is still capable of having a profound impact today?” were a legitimate one, the sixty-six minutes of A Deeper Understanding would make for an effective, resounding, “Yes.”

Honorable Mentions:  Courtney Barnett & Kurt Vile – Lotta Sea Lice Real Estate – In Mind Run The Jewels – Run The Jewels 3 Randy Newman – Dark Matter Four Tet – New Energy Margo Price – All American Made Big Thief - Capacity