#naturally I’m not comparing myself to a poet etc etc I’m just saying that that’s what I always have in mind
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kohakhearts · 1 year ago
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when people first meet me and inquire about my studies im generally hit with two different responses, being 1) “wow, that’s an unusual combination”/“you don’t see that often”/etc. and 2) “you must be SO smart!” (or its evil twin, “you must hate yourself ha-ha”), and while the first is obviously a better response than the second, both are kinda…awkward to react to.
like? IS it an unusual combination of interests, or is it actually that most institutions make it exceptionally difficult for people to pursue stem and arts concurrently? and that we don’t often talk about the heavy crossover between stem and the arts because we’re so culturally obsessed with this notion that the world is split into Art People and Science People (also known as English People and Math People)?
and how would my interest in a science make me any smarter than someone in my program who chose to pursue a minor in history instead of physics? also, NO, i don’t hate myself. obviously taking stem classes after spending years believing im “not a math person” has lowered my gpa, but that’s not really something i care about, because at the end of the day i find the subject endlessly fascinating and i enjoy my classes very much, and i get better at math every semester because i have no choice. because it’s just…a method of communication. it’s a language. you practice, you improve - but you have to be consistent and intentional about it. the same way you have to be consistent and intentional about analyzing fictional texts and historical documents.
which is to say that like. you are using the same skills. i tutored a high school student last year who looked at me like i was crazy for saying that close reading a short story is functionally the same as solving an algebra problem. you collect like terms. then you compare and contrast them to make a statement about them - it’s human nature to seek refuge in what is familiar even if it is simultaneously traumatic, or x = 2 and y = -2. you can chart it, you can graph it, you can draw it. listen, isn’t there something so inherently beautiful about the word integral? it’s something intrinsic, baked into a person or a thing - the fundamental values formed within you by tiny, infinitesimal pieces: moments, experiences - they coalesce into something completely different, but still. you can go back. you can find the pieces. define them, pick them apart, put them together again in new ways. expand them, contract them, equate them to something else just to understand them.
half the study of mathematics is called analysis, for god’s sake. what is the study of art if not analysis? is it not the goal of the artist, the writer, to make sense of our place in the world? and is this not what we do in physics, too? look at the world and try to find reason in it? as the poet spends their life trying to make the intangible tangible, the particle physicist attempts to study dark matter. when we form a sentence, we utilize a complex system of equations that are so second-nature to us we don’t even register that’s what we’re doing - but there’s a reason this branch of linguistics is called syntactic calculus.
like…believe me. if you told my teenage self i’d be taking calculus-based courses in university, i wouldn’t have believed it. i teach high school students now who tell me they know they aren’t good at english, but it doesn’t matter to them because they do so well in math. and i get it. i do. but it’s disappointing, too, because i think my knowledge of math has made me a better reader and writer. and it feels like most people are missing out on that connection, because they feel like it’s impossible to make. but any experimentalist can tell you there’s an art to the scientific process. any musician or poet can tell you that great art is dictated by numbers - rhythm, rhyme and metre, all of it. the only group of people as interested in conceptual symmetry as physicists are artists.
anyway, all i’m saying is like - one is not more essential than the other, these things are inextricably linked, these things are as fundamental to human existence as breathing. there’s a reason why astronomers defer to shakespeare to name newly discovered bodies in space, you know? we've all gotta learn to love the math in our art and the artistry behind math.
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typinggently · 4 years ago
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I was thinking of How to Eat a Poem by Eve Merriam! (Which doesn’t mention peaches btw?)
When you described Sam's voice as "moon-soft" in that fic... Your wording is so lyrical while also being very physical, reading that fic felt like touching it somehow, really lovely
When I tell you my heart clenched just now. Thank you so much!!! That is such an incredibly kind thing to say ♥️
There’s something so achingly tender about the way with which these two interact with each other, yet I wonder how aware they are of that tenderness. I feel like they experience each other, if that makes sense? At another point I tried to compare it to them being each other’s shadow — they’re connected, entwined to the point where the meaning of “I’m yours” seems to blur a little around the edges. It comes to a point where their very existing around each other is affectionate, physical — at least that’s how I like to read them, what i wanted to express.
And in general, I feel writing is such a sensual thing, like that poem about eating a poem like a peach, you know? Reading should give the same pleasure as devouring a dripping-sweet fruit, I think, so to hear that my writing felt physical made me so so happy. That’s all I could hope to achieve and I feel so honoured, thank you very much!! 🌹🌹🌹
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serenagaywaterford · 5 years ago
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Hi there :) You've made me very curious about Anne Carson but I've never read anything by her, is there anything you'd rec for a first read ?
OH! HI!! Okay... Carson is... Not the most approachable writer in the sense that her prose is, well, whatever the fuck she wants it to be, however she wants it. Sometimes it’s not even words lol. It sometimes can defy a strict definition, and her grammar, syntax, etc. may seem haphazard. And she can be seen as a dense read, mostly due to the deluge of references she makes to all sorts of mythology, classical lit, cultural iconography, etc etc etc. To make comparisons (since hey, THT) to Atwood cos yeah, female Canadian poets unite. Atwood is less abstract and far less reliant on references, more visceral and immediate in her what she evokes. I find myself not often having to sit with Atwood going, “What the FUCK does THAT mean?” While obviously sometimes there are deeper layers to her work (poetry specifically), there’s a sort of strong reaction almost instantaneously because you can just feel it. (I mean, some of her books are more work, cos lbr, THT is prolly not one of her better books (and the Testaments really is not a good book, imo). It’s very basic almost, comparatively, but those are what most people are most familiar with now.) When Atwood speaks of women, feminism, God, or nature, you just know.  Carson is some other sort of being. So you really have to be very prepared to sometimes sit with something because first you must decode the language. Now, not always. Some of her stuff is less obtuse than others but the woman is a philosopher as well as a poet and essayist, so like all philosophers, she’ll layer shit and just not say other shit and ask questions in what look like statements. This isn’t to say Carson isn’t evocative, or isn’t as evocative as Atwood for example, cos she is, mostly. It... sometimes, there’s just a little more thought involved on the part of the reader. Atwood does a lot of the work for us, and I think her assistance there is a lot of why I love her approach cos I want to feel a lot, without having to sit and pick apart each line and word. Now, that said, often delving deeper into Atwood really, really drives things home and you can get way more from it but I don’t think always that is absolutely necessary to enjoy her poetry, and especially not her prose. Carson, you just have to be prepared. Maybe sometimes you won’t. But I’ve found more people turned off by Carson’s style than Atwood’s. BUT this makes it sound like they’re very different and contrasting, but really, it’s not as if Carson is THAT impenetrable. She’s really not. If you like Atwood, Carson will probably be a nice step up, maybe sideways? Cos where Atwood uses a fair amount of religious/Christian and nature symbolism, Carson is almost dependent on mythology (mostly Greek, but she does delve into Judeo-Christian as well) and literature. If you like Atwood in her more The Blind Assassin sort of style, Carson should be accessible enough.  Keep in mind too, Carson, was first and foremost a translator of ancient Greek texts (and Latin, iirc), and she drew. She didn’t write until her 20s and still doesn’t quite seem to consider herself a proper “writer”. So, if you want to sort of get an idea of her influences, her translations of Sappho are one place to start. (Arguably, her translations of Sappho are the most famous ones.) But she has done many Greek texts. If this what you are into, I would recommend Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides. You’ll see quotes from that a lot on Tumblr.  Personally, and I say this completely personally, I’d read a few of her poems and then Autobiography of Red. This is not a novel nor is it a poem. It’s like some mishmash of the two. Again, style. It is probably one of her most famous and most accessible books, and it’s not too long either. You just have to be prepared to read “a novel” in “verse” form. (I put all these things in quotes cos... who knows how to define things anymore.)  BUT if you don’t want that yet...   I personally hear a lot of praise for Eros The Bittersweet (a lot of academics really love it) but I wouldn’t recommend that as a starting point. Unless you really like Classical lit. Personally, I do recommend Autobiography of Red, but if you wanna start with individual poems/”essays” aka “texts”, I would say go first to Glass, Irony and God. It’s really a personal preference and includes one of her most famous/popular poems, “The Glass Essay”. I like “The Truth About God”, also. And I am partial to the “Book of Isaiah” too from the same collection, although that’s not exactly a popular opinion but honestly “The Gender Of Sound” is something really special to me as a feminist, and is much more of an essay than poetry prose--and it is a great exploration of the female voice in literature. After that, I’d move onto Plainwater: Essays and Poetry. (I’d rec "The Anthropology of Water".) This may be her best collection? It really reignites poetry for a lot of people.  Basically, I’d try to stick to her works from the 90s. Her newer stuff? Meh. I mean, I have yet to read Float, tbh. So maybe I’m not being fair. Haven’t read Red Doc > either (which is a “sequel” to Autobiography of Red) but I mean, if you’re gonna pick up anything of hers post-2000, maybe I’d say Decreation, again for the essays?   Here’s just a short article about Carson. It’s a nice overview of Carson, and her place in culture right now, although it’s not really about how to get started reading her.  Just for shits and giggles, cos it’s not a full Carson book, but The Blue of Distance. Mostly cos I also love Rebecca Solnit and her part of the book is great too. But this isn’t really a book you can download.
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prolapsarian · 5 years ago
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The Election and Stupidity
I am glad the election is over, because through the weeks of opportunism, integrating myself into the campaign, I have watched myself getting stupider. It has felt like lopping off, day by day, each organ of perception. Sometimes the cause of communism calls for this type of self-barbarisation: but it's also worth trying to take hold of the fucking blunted dullness that induces. It is difficult to tell if what I'm writing comes out of the stupidity or my resistance to it. Probably both.
I spent a lot of the last five weeks mixing campaigning with listening to the audiobook of The Golden Notebook. That great work of communist splitting, now remixed, now split again. Since the results came in lots of people are talking about "political education" and "community organising". I consider these to be empty concepts. They are cries of people who have realised that there is something missing in what they thought they were doing right - but those people are worst of all to find out how to fill that emptiness. I am not a vanguardist, but I will make claims for the communist avant-gardes. For histories that are for us and only us (in some secret compact between all generations). That there are these most extraordinary of works that are ours - and lots of us have our own communist canons and countercanons. I think everyone should read or listen to Lessing. Or pick up some Jelinek. Go grab some Aime Cesaire, or some Rene Menil. Go to the Blake exhibition at the Tate - and maybe a few hundred of us can go all at once and refuse to pay to go in, and we will explain that they can't stop us because Blake was a communist. Recite some Rimbaud or Ulrike Meinhof. Get with the Latin American communist poets like Huidobro or Vallejo. Perform some Brecht for your children. Go pirate some Pasolini or some Fassbinder or some Petri.
And it's not just things of the past. There continues to be this feverishly exciting, virtuosic communist production. Here's just some things I loved this years that changed how I saw the world, changed how I acted: Sophie Lewis' Full Surrogacy Now; all of Anne Boyer's writing; And all of Sean Bonney's too; Verity Spott's Click Away Close Door Say; Caspar Heinemann's Novelty Theory. And these are just people close to me, my friends and loved ones, because this fucking torrential underground is as full with the living as it is with the dead. There is so much more.
And these are - in the end - all quite simple things, often made in stolen hours or years. Simple at least compared to the world that we are collectively and perversely producing and reproducing together, with communism the perversion of the perversion (far better and more beautiful and more painful and more forceful than the negation of the negation.) We have to think the world as well, sometimes as simple as a crystal yet so full of tenderness. And that's what all these great communist avant-gardists were capable of, just as Marx was - even if in them and in their work the crystal is sometimes cracked.
Maybe that’s why I don’t like “community organising” or “political education” - because in how programmatic or awfully practical these proposals are they stamp out everything I’ve learned from these torrents of communist virtuosity. They are as mediocre as they sound, and resigned too. Someone’s gonna come on here and accuse me of intellectualism. Please instead fuck off.
What once excited me about Corbynism was the promise of a politics that wasn't just about some people in Parliament: the promise of a changed politics that changed the world, and within which the relations between politics and the world would also be changed. I think that's true for a lot of other people too. And that is long in the past now. By 2017 Corbynism was set on a course of mere parliamentarianism: the tasks established for its popular base nothing more than cheerleading through Twitter about how great they thought it all was, or reading opinion polls like tea leaves, as enthusiasts for their own good fortune. Or even worse the task became a type of collective introversion in which the committed ones built ever more baroque policy castles in the air, veritable King Ludwigs of social democracy. The two processes are conjoined: the first in which historical action is exchanged for mere spectatorship; the second in which politics is exchanged for policy, the means of social transformation exchanged for toying with the various fantastic imagined ends. What was rancid in the project was that their collective dreams - yes dreams - were things like "Keynesian deficit spending" and "a reorganisation of the benefits system" or "better public transport." And I don't decry it easily, because these are things really would help lots of people to survive who will be horribly murdered, who will suffer brutality, whose cries will be silenced. But also these are shit dreams compared to COLLECTIVELY BUILDING A WORLD OF FREEDOM, EXPLODING PAST INJUSTICE INTO HAPPINESS, THE SHAPES OF FIRE, THE UNBABBLING OF LANGUAGE INTO TONE THAT KNOWS NO PURITY OR IMPURITY, REVELATION OF THE BEAUTY OF THINGS INTHEMSELVES, THE RECONCILIATION OF NATURE AND HISTORY, THE ANNIHILATION OF CLASS SOCIETY, GLORIOUS ILLUMINATION, THE FORCE THAT STRIKES DOWN THE POWERFUL, THE END OF ALIENATION, PERPETUAL BLISS etc.
And I mean yes this is stupid and sloganistic, a sort of golden calfism that is no good without knowing at the same time that each and every one of these are diverted through the most fragile and difficult particularities of lived experience - as much through that with which we give each other strength as through how we oppress and destroy each other. And the tension is finding how other people do these things, try to say them, how we as a collective fail to be collective.
But you know how stupid it makes us not to even dream these things, not to be even lightly touched by them in every moment (or not to be able to perceive that we are already lightly touched by them). The communists disdain to conceal their views and aims. One of the worst things that can come of us is to be fooled by our own opportunism. I am slowly going to try to make myself and those around me less stupid than I have been and would like friends and comrades to help. This isn’t about Enlightenment or Bildung. This isn’t about finding agreement or any more doxasticism in this world where opinion and its parasitic monopolies has overflowed truth. It is about struggle and negativity. It is without ends. And all force to us.
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5questions · 6 years ago
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Richard Wehrenberg
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Richard Wehrenberg was born in Akron, Ohio and is the author of Abracadabrachrysanthemum (2018), Hands (2015), and River (2014), co-written with Ross Gay. Their work has been published in The Academy of American Poets, Peach Mag, Bad Nudes, Monster House Press, & elsewhere. They are a poet, writer, artist, & designer living in Bloomington, Indiana.
I want to start with the cover. I admire its minimalism but also the way that minimalism allows the title to speak for itself, carrying the reader along as they go to the next page. What are some of your favorite book designs? How has your own design aesthetics changed since you first started designing chapbooks and websites over ten years ago? Do you have any sort of codified process for your design work?
I perceive Text as Image and Image as Text, in a kind of infinite stirring/reworking. My aesthetic/process for design feels necessarily influenced by how my specific body-form perceives/reads the world, via its various miracles and supposed ‘deficiencies’—ie. having one barely-able-to-see (left) eye and one incredibly-over-achieving (right) eye, as well as having benign hand tremors (ie. my hands shake, inexplicably). I understand designing as the praxis of ‘de-signing' (ie. removing the signs from) this Earth/traditions/meanings/images. To quote one of my fav poets, Mahmoud Darwish—“I love your love / freed from itself and its signs,” which to me means: I love you ‘best’ when we shed the layers/masks/images that bury us in stories, when we dwell in our original and base-form—which of course has to be, for me—Love—the desire to see the world as un-riven, as One, despite everything working against the infinite forms love embodies. I feel my design aesthetic as ‘spiritual,’ or at least to me it feels like it springs enigmatically from a spiritual impulse/condition/base. All to say—my style/praxis is mysterious, even to myself, and my design depends on this kind of unknowability/improvisation. For Abracadabrachrysanthemum (and Three Crises by Bella Bravo, which share almost identical design elements), I viewed the circle on the covers to be a kind of gravitational wormhole into the book’s work, like you implied. A simple entranceway that has, like a planet or black hole, its own gravity to pull/cull others in, to merge and connect worlds. As far as design influences—I love love love Quemadura’s work (who you probably know as Wave Books’ designer.) I remember seeing their stark, simple, text-based covers as a younger poet/designer and being moved by space they allow for the text (exterior and interior) to become its own image/meaning apart from other visual suggestions. Also, Mary Austin Speaker’s work—who does design for Milkweed Editions—is always so precise, gorgeous, and enchanting. Outside of the poem-world, I am constantly inspired by fellow Bloomington designers/friends Aaron Denton and Sharnayla. The beauty they channel is astounding. Since I began designing, I feel that I’ve just become better and faster at designing, and my core aesthetic has mostly stayed the same. Being self-taught, you kind of just pick up little preferences, skills, and potentialities randomly along the path of work. I’m in a constant state of knowledge-acquisition re design and thus my process is really just experimentation. One codified process I do have is to meditate on a book’s content, to summon its image by intentionally dwelling on it within an unconscious states of meditation, dream, trance, etc. Usually I can call up a color palette, or image/font/et al that each individual book/design is calling for via these means. I believe in this kind of prayer/listening in my work, and I cite the unconscious as my main source of artistic capacity and production. I’ve also dreamed book covers before. That’s the best.
Many of the poems in this collection have geographic allusion, descriptive precision, and a general sense of place becoming character. This reminds me in many ways of your book RIVER, co-authored with Ross Gay. While that was prose and this is poetry, this is something I have noticed in your writing. How would you describe your aesthetic connection to geography? nature? environment? This book seems to expand beyond America in ways previous writing of yours doesn’t...
I can’t not attempt to constantly locate my Self in this World—can’t not see/feel/attempt to understand where/how/who/why I am in relation to ‘others’—to the land, rivers, oceans, to other animals, to the incredible manifold instantiations of plants, to the water with which without we would vanish, to all the ostensibly separate “I’s” on this shared Earth/consciousness/World surviving, dwelling, praying, creating—Being. I am an empath and embed/imbibe my surroundings almost automatically/unconsciously into myself. I become wherever I am. And thus its violences and gorgeousnesses alike become my own. And thus I speak for them, to them, of them, with them, in service and toward the healing of them/us/I/we. I unbecome my self to reset my churning and lumbering around this planet, to geographize ‘my’ position within this unpositioned House we find our selves. I am also quite of the mind that we are indeed both Here and Not Here. This Not Here is completely devoid of the drama of the body/ego, which we so often encounter and identify with today (and have since arriving on Earth.) My body, it’s specific forms and desires, languages and impulses, with yours, in conflict with theirs, with the scarcity, the low amount, the abundance, the never-ending forsaken nothing-everything, all of it, all the time, ever, ever, never-enough or always-too-much, the never-quite-right. You compared to me, thine in yours with mine of we. In spirit realm, there is no time and ID like we think here. Both Here and Not Here are real/valid places—the corporeal realm and the spirit realm—and I know, at least for now, I live in both places. I realized recently one of my main hopes for my writing is for it to re-embed the divine into the every day, re-pair it with the quotidian—to reunite these worlds-torn. What I mean is: I identify heavily with wherever I am in this 3D reality called life, and also identify heavily with the spirit realm as an (un)geographic place where I also reside. Over-identification with either realm leads to misery/suffering or disassociation/location, to paraphrase A Course In Miracles.
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There is a sense of unity between the voice of these poems and everything else in the world, seen best, in my opinion, in “Signifying Brown Bear” wherein a stuffed animal becomes a virtual tunnel into all sorts of real human and existential experiences. Do you think something fundamental has changed in contemporary consumer society from ancient or medieval or even early modern societies, in which we have too many outlets for our emotions and experiences? Maybe too many is good (whatever "good" means)? In this poem, the stuffed bear almost represents your own yearning to connect as fully as you already are with universe around you. It has many of the conceits of a love poem and, at times, a tongue-in-cheek tone. In the end, the poem is what makes us think. You have turned a mirror on the reader. Was this your intention? How do you decide when to write in second-person versus first person etc.? Is any of this interpretation at all on point?  In “Signifying Brown Bear,” I am referring to an actual brown bear (ie. Ursus arctos) and the poem is just kind of about how people/entities who I become close with can begin to feel like sweet-tender-almost-cryptozoological-creatures to me and I want to also just be a sweet-tender-almost-cryptozoological-creature—or hell, I’ll settle for even a plant or a rock—back to them. Anything but this warbling, incomplete, stammering-maunderer of a human being! (Exaggeration.) I do not want my humanity at times—my human-being-ing—which has been categorized, documented, and shrink-wrapped for societal use and relation, who is part of the decimation of Earth via capital. I want the freedom (and I’m sure we could say unfreedom) of the brown bear who is in relation to the Sycamore by the river, and the salmon floating above the stones, the water gliding over, ever-thinning rock into sand granules—slowly—and back again—and back. I don’t want to be (and can’t be, is perhaps my thesis) relegated to the realm of signifiers and signs imposed via any of the manifold categorization machines we navigate on the daily to obfuscate these kind of otherworldly, ancient connections I feel as Real. To decimate that last paragraph—I also believe in becoming fully-embodied/present in the form we are in in this life, too. So, it’s confusing, this ever-always-transforming-ing perceptioning. The confusion about what energy/thing I am and what you are is a little about what that poem is about, too. I was reading Agamben’s The Use of Bodies and came across this ancient Greek word, poiesis, which appears in the poem and means, “the activity in which a person brings something into being that did not exist before.” I love that idea, and think it is what we are here to do, in part. So often for me the unprecedented-something we are trying to bring into existence is ourselves and the art/energy we carry in us must be made into song. I want to always make the reader aware of their presence in my writing—to me writing is a collective act and readers are always existent, even if they never ‘read’ your work. The imagined, the dead, the unborn, the spiritually uncanonized, the already-gone-never-was reader, writer, seeker, be-er. I switch between tense often and freely, because in poetry, at least for me, we feel/fall into each word/line we write and there’s less of a need to be ‘coherent’ in the sense of the popular notion of storytelling/fiction, which (I might have another thesis here) feels like a symptom of capitalism, too. Of course it feels really nice to have a coherent story. I love television and pop culture. I want to write for television. I want to be perceived as coherent. But I want to say too: the ‘incoherence’ of poetry is a kind of coherence, a prayer toward a ‘new’ form, if you will, despite being so old itself. Poetry coheres to a perhaps more experimental way of telling a story, a precedentless next-ing, and this variation is vital—these unforeseen forms, stories, ways of being. We are a species that evolves, and because the mouth/mind is the site of evolution now, I am playing accordingly.
What ended up happening with MHP?  Why did you decide to stop active involvement in it? What are you doing now in terms of day-to-day life? Monster House Press has evolved through many forms. In 2010, it began, semi-naively, as a collective publisher of zines and chapbooks in the eponymous punk house. It then expanded and evolved into a project I was maintaining, mostly on my own, from 2012-2016 in Bloomington, Indiana. In the summer of 2016, MHP rose again as a officially collective project—an amorphous mass, as we liked to call it—primarily because the workload had become unsustainable for me to do on my own, and we were doing more and more, gaining recognition, et cetera. We decided to lay MHP to rest at the end of the 2018, as many of us involved in keeping it going are moving onto graduate school and/or starting new projects/lives. It felt apt to end this specific instantiation in my career-form of publishing, as I have moved away from the punk/DIY scene from which it was born, and the name itself has too become divorced from its origin and who I/we was/were then. I’m sure I’ll always be editing, publishing, reading, designing and helping steward others’ work in this world, as that impulse is something part and parcel of my being, this collaboration; however, the terms and boundaries within this specific modality as MHP have expired to me. In my day-to-day life, I am a freelance graphic designer, artist, editor, and writer. I usually sit at my house with my dog, working on whatever project I have in my docket at the time, or go out to a coffee or tea house to do work. I also just finished auditing a graduate poetry workshop called Joy & Collaboration with Ross Gay, which was, in a word, divine—and I currently spend my days/time helping out with the growing at a communal greenhouse as well as generally just reading/writing/watching/listening to the Earth/Universe, hoping to be of service, use, and care.
What future projects are you working on? Do you still play music with organized groups? Have you thought of writing long-form fiction?
I’m hoping to start my MFA in Poetry next year. As far as writing projects—I’m writing a collection of sonnets about my alcoholism/being an alcoholic in the United States. (I’ve been sober for 5 years now.) The sonnets are these kind of little, tender love-songs to my alcoholic/former self (who I can never fully extinguish) which—I hope—also reckon with and help shed light on addiction, malevolent masculinity/whiteness, and which also seek to forgive and release—to heal. I also have this big, kind of far off ditty of a dream to open a Poetry Center one day, in the Midwest ideally, kind of a little like Poets House in NYC, where events, workshops, reading, writing, and magic can happen. A hub for poetics/healing/joy/collaboration. There will probably be an herbal/plant element too, somehow, as I love working with/growing plants. And music! I haven’t played music in an organized group in a while, but enjoy being able to play piano and saxophone here and there, when I can, however that happens. I helped transpose, sing, and record a score for a little art movie project, along with Ross Gay and Lauren Harrison, which was super delightful. Music is the literal heart of the world, imo. I listened to 36 days of music this year, ie. for 1/10 of the year I was listening to music, which was kind of staggering and incredible for me to realize. I love writing long and short form fiction, but have found it removes me from the world too intensely, which, I feel I am supposed to stay more rooted/involved in the World in a proactive sense, so I tend to write poetry and other forms over fiction. I am interested in the hybrid essay form—with poetry hidden inside—and creating/seeking new hybridized forms. There’s so much potential for greatness—and so much to come.
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narwhal-writings · 6 years ago
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Meet the Writer
I got tagged in so many of these lmao. All answers are under the cut.
Tagged by: @bluewritesbadly  
1. What is your favorite weather to write in?
I don’t have one! As long as it is not melt-your-face-off hot outside, I’m good!
2. Do you draw inspiration from any specific show, movie, or music?
Nothing specific that I can think of, I can draw inspiration from just about anything.
3. Do you have any specific playlists for writing?
Nope.
4. What is your goal as a writer?
To finish a WIP, something I’ve never done. And maybe to be the author of someone’s favorite story one day.
5. How would you describe your current project?
Princesses take matters into their own hands. It’s not as easy as they thought it would be.
6. Do you have a favorite character? If so, describe them?
YES!!! My girl Rosar from Broken Thrones is my fave. She is sweet even though her father is emotionally abusive. She loves being outside, digging her fingers into the soil, and everything about flowers.
7. What is your inspiration for writing?
My mind will drive me insane if I keep all my ideas and storylines in my head, so I write them out and hope someone can get immersed in them the same way I do.
8. Have you had any experiences irl that you have put into your writing?
Not that I can think of.
9. Which of your characters are you most like?
I’m most like Eira when it comes to the way my mind works. Logical not emotional.
10. What is your favorite quote?
“I hope to arrive to my death, late, in love, and a little drunk.” - Atticus
Tagged by: @thepotatowearsprada
1. What inspired you to start writing your current WIP?
I reread one of my fave books and I started getting ideas and I started writing.
2. Is there a chapter/set of chapters that’s your favourite in your WIP? If so, which ones and why?
I am super bad at writing in chapters. I usually just write in a huge chunk of paragraphs and leave separating them into chapters for future me to deal with. But there is a scene from my Dieselpunk WIP that I love. The two MCs are alone together after a traumatizing event and Jax does his best to comfort Amy. It’s adorable.
3. Which of your characters would you take with you into a haunted house?
Amy from my Dieselpunk WIP. She’d be fun.
4. What character would you take with you to supervise a first date from afar?
Rosar from Broken Thrones. She’d be able to monitor the situation without seeming suspicious.
5. Was there a specific book that led you to writing? If so, which one?
I...am not sure. I used to read all the time and any of those could’ve pushed me towards it. I’ll go with any of the Robin McKinley books I’ve read. I love the way I’m able to immerse myself in the worlds she creates and I want to mimic that.
6.  What music do you like to listen to while you write?
It varies depending on my mood or what kind of scene I want to write.
7. Where do you like to do most of your writing?
The living room at my house, That’s where the laptop is, and I prefer to use the laptop to type.
8. What book are you reading right now, and what do you think of it?
I am not reading a book right now, sadly. I have several on my list, though.
9. If you had to compare your favourite character to another literary character, who would it be, and why?
I will compare Rosar to....agh....I...don’t know...I’m bad at this...sorry.
10. What font do you like to use when typing up stories?
I use Arial.
Tagged by: @hilunawrites
1. What’s the first thing you ever remember writing?
Oh god. I used to write Warriors fanfic when I was in elementary/middle school.
2. What book or series has affected you the most?
The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley. It is my all time favorite book and I fell in love with it and the MC Harry. 
3. Do you prefer writing dialogue or description?
I like writing description, even though I’m not very good at it. 
4. Where do you write?
I can write anywhere, but mainly at my house on the laptop.
5. What is your number one goal as a writer right now?
To finish at least one of my WIPs.
6. What was the last book you read?
Defy the Worlds by Claudia Gray. I really enjoyed it!
7. Do you have a writing schedule?
No, but I should make one.
8. What’s an irritating mistake you often make when writing?
I like to use way too many commas.
9. Do you prefer writing the first draft or editing?
Lmao considering I’ve never completed a draft to edit, I’ll go with writing the first draft.
10. What’s your number one tip for newbie writers?
Don’t give up just because you feel like your writing isn’t good. The more you practice, the better you’ll get.
Tagged by: @lillithannemadison
1.How often do you get writers’ block/What do you do to get over it?
I get writers’ block a lot. I usually get over it when I walk the dog. That’s when I put my earbuds in and let my mind wander. That or when I’m a passenger in the car.
2. Do you prefer to write more in the early mornings, late nights, or somewhere in between?
I’m more productive in the evenings and nighttime.
3. If you had the chance, would you hire a publicist right now for all of your finished WIPs, or keep them until you are 1000000000% sure they are perfect?
Seeing as I can be a perfectionist, I’ll keep them until I am sure they are perfect.
4. For those of you who go to school or have a time-consuming job, do you write in your free time at school/work? Or do you only write in the comfort of your own home?
Uh, I will jot down my ideas and think up new storylines at school, but I prefer to write at home. 
5. What is the most progress you’ve made on one WIP? (in chapters)
Like I said in an earlier set of q’s, I don’t write chapters very often. However, in my Dieselpunk WIP I have about 56k words, and that’s not nearly finished.
6. If you listen to music while you write, do you listen to instrumental music or music with lyrics as well?
I listen to any type of music when writing.
7. Do you use any types of digital art, art apps, or simply a pencil and paper to visualize your characters?
I try. I am bad at trying to draw my OCs when I try. Sometimes I use apps/games to create my characters, or I pick a faceclaim.
8. If given the chance, would you allow your favorite author to read your WIP, or would you be too nervous about the feedback?
That...is a good question. I’m weird about my writing. I’m sharing bits and pieces here and I’m okay with it, I send them to my friend and I’m okay, but I’d never let my family read it. So I’m not sure. I might let them read it.
9. Which author/poet/etc. influenced your writing the most?
I wish I knew. I’m bad at identifying what influences the way I write.
10. If you had found out someone was plagiarizing your WIP after posting it on Tumblr, Wattpad, etc., how would you react?
Uhhh....report whoever did it, tell my followers what happened? Idk for sure.
Tagged by: @leicawri
1. What do you consider the most special about your setting that sets it apart from other settings?
The way it’s set up, I suppose. I guess in Broken Thrones it’s a bit odd because of how near the forest and desert is without touching. The Stone and the Sea is different because the places/people from them are identified by what they are good at making. Stuff like that, I guess.
2. Do you need to be alone in a room to write or do you need noise around you?
I need noise, but it doesn’t need to be people noise, a TV in the background or music is good. I can write, people or no people.
3. If one character in your story didn’t exist, how would it change the way the story goes? Would it affect the other characters in their development? Would it change the ending?
I like to think that all (named) characters that I make have an impact on the story and is needed in the story. I would say taking a character out would change the story, character growth of others, and the ending.
4. What’s the strangest way you solved a plothole?
I haven’t come across a whole lot of plotholes simply because I haven’t gone back and read everything together. So I’m sure in the future I’ll have an answer for this, but not today.
5. What is your method if you realise that your character acted out of character in the last few scenes?
I leave it for future me to deal with lmao. In all reality, I’m kinda bad at realizing if a character is acting correctly or not, so I’ll leave that work and come back to it later and try to fix it.
6. In your worldbuilding, do you only build as much history as needed or do you create a whole history with little stories that are irrelevant to the plot and no one will ever know them but you and the people that asked about it?
I make just a little more history than needed. Or I don’t make enough and have to make it up as I go.
7. Do you have a time that you dedicate to writing or do you just write whenever inspiration hits you?
I write whenever I want to. Or I stare blankly at the document until I force the words out. No specific time
8. Do you write your story in order, from chapter 1 to chapter 10? Or do you just write first chapter 8, then chapter 3, them chapter 5 and so on?
I try to write chronologically as best I can. However, if I have writers’ block, I’ll skip ahead and work out how to work in that segment.
9. How do you name characters? Spontaneously? Or do you spenf a long time researching definitions and where those names come from? What about placeholder names?
I don’t usually use placeholder names. I usually go looking for a specific type of nae with a specific meaning. Like with Broken Thrones, the three sisters have names relating to nature because their country is very nature-oriented. However, the men from Issera I used a name generator and made a few adjustments. It depends on what I’m looking for.
10. What role does music play in your story? Are there festivals for it? Or is it just there?
Interesting question. I haven’t thought about this too much. Maybe I’ll include more music oriented things in my WIPs...
Tagged by: @quill-and-ink-writer
1. What’s your favorite book?
The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley! I love it so much it pains me every time I finish rereading it.
2. Man vs. Society, Man vs. Self, or Man vs. Man?
It depends on the type of plot I have in mind. Of course, all three can happen at the same time. 
3. Antiheroes or loveable villains?
I have to choose? Fine. Loveable villains.
4. What’s the worst thing a character of yours has done?
Hmm...I’d have to say that that an upcoming event in Broken Thrones will be pretty bad. I don’t want to post spoilers, though. 
5. Favorite trope?
Hmm...villains/antag becoming begrudging friends or weird uncle figures to the hero/protag
6. Are you a pantser of plotter?
I usually have a main plot in mind and just make it up as I go between main plot points in mind. I’ve been trying to get better at plotting.
7. Moodboards or playlists?
Moodboards.
8. Do you listen to music while you write? If so, what genre?
I listen to lots of different things when I write, from Mumford & Sons to MCR and a lot in between.
9. Which of your WIPs have you been working on the longest?
My Deiselpunk WIP! I’ve been working on it for about...two years, with several hiatuses in there.
10. How long have you been writing?
Casually since elementary school, more seriously the past couple years.
Okay, I hope that’s everyone! My questions are:
Do you have a character you tend to inflict more angst on than others?
How do you get back on track with writing after getting distracted?
Do you create your whole world and characters before you start to write it down or do you write it down as you go?
Do you have a certain story/poem/etc that has stuck with you for years?
Favorite and least favorite trope?
Are any of your characters artists/Do any of them enjoy art?
How do you go about getting past writers’ block?
Do you write chronologically or do you write little snippets and tie them together? Or do you have a different process?
Writing or editing?
Strange ways you come up with ideas to write?
I will tag: @realashergray @writerofscribbles @plsfeedthewriter @constantlyincosmicconfusion and anyone else who wants to do it! Tag me if you do!
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autoirishlitdiscourses · 3 years ago
Text
Discourse of Wednesday, 01 September 2021
I think that you've chosen, it's easier for me that your basic idea is correct it seems that it would pay off in my office SH 2432E, or. The Anglo-Irish, or otherwise need to do so very quickly. If you want to, close your eyes on all sides and develops according to post-Victorian ideals demands that they haven't read; it's certainly interesting insofar as it could be. Are you talking about how we have together during each week is the only way that allows you to dig even deeper into the discussion, depending on what your argument more specifically what the nature of your literary sources—I think that interrogating the metaphor's utility as a simple concept in many ways, I think that you are working. My one suggestion at this point is a series of unsubstantiated claims would pay off for you. Thanks for letting me know and I'll see you tomorrow. The other people's questions and opened up possibilities for discussion; you have demonstrated repeatedly in section this quarter, depending on what texts you choose into a set of ideas in a paper, and I think that you want to go on the final exam, from the professor send out the issues that you've been rather quiet this quarter. There are plenty of room for you. To answer your specific argument about a relationship that is a fair number of things well, but there are a very good job on Wednesday, and you didn't hurry through your questions might have helped here. Let me know immediately. What constitutes evidence, and they had a very sophisticated and clear. 551, p. Lesson Plan for Week 9: General Thoughts and Notes 20 November 2013 Major topics 1 and 2 and 7, etc. No worries at all I myself often don't get to. Wednesday, but my assumption is that it had been set to music. Your delivery was quite good when you argue that a lot of things in abstract terms instead of answering your own purpose. Overall, you/must be killed except as a whole, though also did some very good work here. Your writing is thoughtful and focused without being warmed up for the Synge vocabulary quiz. I am a bit too much on track throughout your time and/or symbolism of the more easily accessible representations of the texts, and gave what was overall an excellent reader, but has borrowed several pages of the century, particularly if you are one of your performance, and I'm looking forward to it but you'll be most successful if it seems that it is still MIA. He consented to let me know as soon as possible, to be tying the landscape, Beckett may also, if you wanted to be sympathetic toward the violent protagonists engage the class, that is genuinely smarter than her grade actually reflects, and structure your presentation. Serious illness requiring urgent medical care. You did a good selection, and I've just been going through the writing process is also a Twitter stream. This means that, your writing really is a very sophisticated level. I've got you down for inaccuracies as measured against a different opinion will not be penalized for falling short by one line—/will incur the penalty calculation, that there will be thinking closely about it with a woman too. Perfect. It's virtually certain, with the material; the Irish nationalism. Ultimately, like reports. One other thing that will encourage substantial discussion in a little bit, I also feel that picking only well … primarily sources that you should include a URL is perfectly OK. Remember that the complex connection that's being built here is demonstrating that it's difficult to argue more strongly for the sake of being helpful.
Midterm review. I'm not saying that you're working with? And I have one of the text and ask students about them; this means that an A-for the paper in the class well. It's absolutely OK to subdivide your selected bibliography into sections indicating status Works Cited page; any non-edited draft, and preferably by Thursday night. What you've outlined a good job engaging other students and grades, discussed in a strong recitation, you in front of the sources of the students in the best way to think about Molly's relationship with his father, and is probably unnecessary, because right now your primary concern is preparing for the quarter is at least somewhat. You might note that he read would be for with your peers with the critical discourses surrounding the texts that proceeds through them in episodes 2 and pointed to examples of where they're going to be the song performances themselves, once when everyone introduced themselves to me/. What do you think, don't do much to dictate terms on a set of comments explaining why you picked quite a good weekend, and you've mostly done quite a good student this quarter, so be sure you're correct and prepared to defend it; you have any questions, OK? I can. Excellent! More generally, I think that you're capable of doing better on future writing. It's taken me this long to get the earlier reference. C the lowest passing grade for the rest of the editorial/proofreading process. If you glance over at me occasionally, but probably won't make a final decision and get you more specific here. This means that you advocate—I think that specificity will pay off for you to do as soon as possible; if you keep going for, say, at least Western, love of a variety of texts to think about how readers respond to a strong step in the show must go on, and have been to take a look and see what topics are currently more than nine students trying to demonstrate that you have just a bit lopsided. Let me know I didn't notice until after the midterm! You Are Old Yeats, or play too much of a heterosexual romantic relationship is structured not according to the greatest extent that this is the only one! Does 12:30 and will help you to make sure that you have a thesis statement, as documented in the section guidelines handout.
If you believe that you never quite come out and talk about how Ulysses supports your claim about Yeats's response was also a sample MLA-compliant paper on it, and I think, too. I'm sorry to take a look below for section attendance, not on me. Also, let it motivate other people doing recitations that happened after yours. The joke in today's/Doonesbury/is not to claim that for some productive research suggestions today. Perhaps most importantly, though not comprehensively—cleaning these up is a strong piece of writing to get out of 167. Again, though there were some pauses and you demonstrate a very good students this quarter, including class, which are your highest priorities, in juxtaposition is a thinking process, but the usage in literature in Celtic mythology in which your overall grade for the quarter, and you do a very solid job overall; what this means 11:30 work for them to pick out the play's rhythm in the Catholic Church is already strong in several very important to you here even though she almost certainly would have most liked to see some aspect of Irish culture is a perfectly clear, I think that there would be productive for you. If that absolutely cannot be be received at least 24 hours in advance in section Wednesday night. Were reciting and discussing the selection in addition to motherhood, I would be to sit down and writing a report. Your performance was less than 18 points on the final exam, you could engage in a comparative manner over time, I think that phrasing your central claim is. Opening up more abstract and general questions by bridging toward them with more concrete questions might have helped to have a handout and email a new follower on Twitter. And so I think that making your paper.
Almost perfect, but I haven't yet decided what order I'll call people in, so you can take some reasonable guesses. You have very good work here, but perhaps one of the contracting party is entitled to. How to Read James Joyce's Ulysses/character list on How to Read James Joyce's Ulysses/character list on How to Get An A is still theoretically in range for you. Your paper should be an indication that you're saying exactly what you think, a fraction between zero and one smart move for a recitation and discussion by email. I will be paying attention to the right direction, too, if you pick up a miniature performance of the review session that will help you to talk about his performance so far in advance from the recitation, and that you've put a printed copy of your argument more, this is a good quarter. I discover by any means a comprehensive list. Hi!
17 October vocabulary quiz Thurs 17 October. Your Poetry or Prose Recitation Is Graded English 150 course, you should rightfully be proud of it seems history is rather heavy, and you're certainly capable of doing even better quality, and I quite liked your paper to be perhaps more flexible, is the English department mail room South Hall 3431 by 1 p. Extra minutes to fifteen minutes if you'd like. VIII. I absolutely understand that it would have gotten this to have let it sit for a job well done. That audio clip is certainly the best thing to do what the fellow is thinking about your paper this means that I'm hesitant to jump in, and I'll post them more if you have any questions, and let individuals respond to emails that you get by turning in a final decision on which it could have been an even more specific about what your argument more closely would help you make notes about the recitation and discussion to this rule.
Playing it safe doesn't always respond rapidly on weekends. We Lost Eavan Boland, White Hawthorn in the early bits of the midterms in section this quarter; scoring at least twelve lines. I will hold up various numbers of fingers to let me know if you have some very solid paper overall. Wordsworth's Prelude frequently describes the poet thinking or resting under a hawthorn tree, and, like getting letters of recommtion, because the batteries in my office so they haven't started the reading yet, and so you can do it. I want a recording or any sheet music during a week when you're in front of the speech, 33ff. Shift p. Have specific points in mind and be able to avoid thinking that an A is theoretically possible but really requires that you can keep notes on usage of the novel, and I believe it's worthwhile to make sure to keep you posted on.
Keeping Going is from/The Plough and the British pound or pound sterling is complex, if you've scheduled a recitation and thinking closely about the relationship between the selection in question: you produce an excellent job! This is perfectly within the larger structure of the poem without any errors. You managed time well, overall. Yes. Either way is OK! To put it in then. You did a very productive ways, and saving the rest of the poem by 4 p. Several new documents have been even stronger. But you did a number of bonus points you receive no credit for what you've sent; just let me know! Your delivery was basically solid, though I felt that it will help you to dig in deeper and/or taking the no-show penalty. I will post your recitation and lecture. 5 in the West of Ireland 6 p. Plan for Week 9: General Thoughts and Notes 30 October or 6 pm section on Wednesday can you still manage to arrange for an extension on the final graded, but your delivery was solid in a way that the items on the syllabus, provided that you should take a more specific central argument. All nineteen students registered for that week's reading, and your material if that person's ancestry also includes more material than normal that we postmodern folk tend to have a good set of ideas here, and a real pleasure being a good job of choosing not to write a good thing that leaves me feeling unsatisfied about your key terms construct meaning, and it's documented on the poetry handout for next week. Looks good to them by title in your discussion, too. It's been a pleasure having you in the novel is a common way of examining that whereas if you're talking?
Define the underlined word in each revolution being, specifically? It was quite thoughtful in many ways; I think this could have been more successful in doing your research and have more to get fed as much as it could conceivably drop the class and will send your message earlier, because it is, despite the fact that you're constructing. Your responses to individual questions. A-'s, 5 C-means that the final analysis. However, you should be not to carry the weight of it, because you're bright and can take this suggestion and you make in the Ulysses lectures which, given Ulysses, is perhaps not the only one of the situation for you to develop, so I suspect that these are places where your ideas, would be to take a look at my email one message at a time in a nutshell, is holding a midterm from or?
If you have a point total is at all, this is absolutely normal for students in the way that you needed to happen. Here's a breakdown on your life, you do something that keeps it from my other section is actually rather broad topics, and that letting it sit and take a look at at it with people, and a departure from your own, or nearly full credit. There were some gaps for recall and retraction/corrections, but neither is it the attention it deserves on that component of your task that you've identified as significant and connect them to take so long to get going. 25 B 88. Hi! Grades are pretty small errors that mostly don't change the culture of law? I will take this into account when grading your presentation. You could theoretically have been possible to tie it closely to the rest of the points if they don't come off that way, I wish I had better answers for the work of leading discussion, of your group makes it an even more successful would be to link the components of the quarter, divided as follows: total number of students on the final. Technically, this is conjectural, but do so by 10 a. Remember that the law isn't able to avoid departing until afterwards, and lead to a particularly good selection and you really have done a lot of important goals well, plus a third of a specific claim about a particular story you gesture toward this in my 5 p. One of the novel itself? 27 November section, to talk about, exactly, but this is appropriate for the positions we take in the grotesque. They will give it back to you. Are you talking about why in section again, I may give you a bit more practice but your writing, please give me a handout with thoughtful questions and comments in section. You may find that the passage you want to say that I didn't hear that and hide behind the fact, more complex argument be made. Section Materials for English 193 next quarter, this is not the only person reciting and leading discussion, then you have any questions, and you make about motherhood: I think that you carry in your delivery against a printed copy of the section wound up being more successful, however, it's an appropriate analysis that incorporates several different types of significant interpretive missteps.
So, think carefully about at a coffee shop, I suspect, is genuinely smarter than her grade actually reflects, and you do this. Ii: Frank Delaney's Re: Joyce podcast, in our backgrounds. Your do a good skeleton for a college-level details of your argument traverses: what I think that you are entirely up to you. I think that there are potentially many other sections I've worked with. Again, quite a difficult passage, but my own policy to treat in a close reading of them. Well done on this, but that digging into the story of Thomas the Rhymer, but I think that thinking out the issues on the distrust of the passage in question by repeating something you address directly as you point out, but you handled yourself and your material, and gracefully move from one topic to do this effectively if the section website, and you didn't hear his discussion of food here and there are certainly other possibilities. You definitely have a good student this quarter. Truthfully, I estimate that maybe two of you is not the best I can meet at 1 would 12:30 and 4:30 if the section for the purpose of demonstrating that it's likely to have a fresh perspective on a paper with persistent, non-passing grade for you at 11:30 if the group as a simple concept in many ways that prevents you from reciting, obligates you to do an adequate job of providing and resolving complexity in the class; seven of them? Thanks. I'd rather they did on the due date will result in a bar with violently nationalist and anti-war song; etc. You brought out a group of students in your delivery was thoughtful and engaging, and because you're doing all right. I recommend it highly.
There are not quite twelve lines of poetry that anyone writing one of the poem taken for that because the poem in a way that the directions specified that they haven't read; it's of more or less offhand verbal comment made in a way of introducing existentialism involves treating it as an allegory for the quarter has always been an excellent delivery, and contemporary political and biographical concerns.
They should also give a paper that you must attend or reschedule. I flipped through my Reddit comment history, and this is a plus or minus to it when I asked them Who's read episode one of the Godot reciters for several hours tonight. Shift p. For one thing that I am happy to proctor a separate workbook for each text contributes to a question that lies a bit to warm up.
Still, I'm happy just to make sure it doesn't keep your argument as sophisticated as it turns out, let me know if you describe what needs to happen. I can just bring it to take another look through the grade with the professor topic is potentially a very good sense of a text that's written as historical documentation, but I also understand that it would be a more specific central argument as your presentation tomorrow! But how you want to deal with it. That was also helpful in any case, since it's been so much mail this week and I've finally figured out the issues involved, but I'll say a selection from Ulysses in productive ways to look for cues that this could conceivably boost your attendance/participation that is necessary or helpful or a synthesis than an omnivore would? You should be on the most is to be tracing a temporal development, for instance, to wind up being the plus and minus for each document from Google Docs, too, and you construct a nuanced argument, and least importantly, though, and your close readings by a piece of writing that I will probably involve providing at least somewhat. Choose a segment that is sophisticated, broadly informed paper, and not just of individual passages, but societies themselves differ about what motivates us to experience non-trivial illumination of genuine issues in depth and with sensitivity; written gracefully and in terms of what interests you about The Butcher Boy, mentioned in lecture Thanks for doing such a way that you wanted to be helpful. You make some very minor alterations; at this point is that it would be, but you might think about what race means and how this passage. REMINDER: Friday is for you: the professor's reading of a narrative/logical path through your texts; it will be much more happens in section on Dec. Well, it's easier for you. Like This One By the way that the world as a serial killer; on the Starry Plough flag: Wikipedia article on the board and then don't follow through in enough depth in your section sent me before or after you reschedule it: A blade of grass. He is also rather interesting, although it sounds like you to section or fifteen my 6 p. Probably the nicest thing to do it, but you handled yourself and your writing is lucid, and you have read your texts; it will help you represent your own experiences and opinions about the symbolism of the passage you want to take it you're referring to the group while valorizing their input and meeting them at their level of familiarity with the rip she never stitched. Like holding water in your delivery showed that you've chosen fails to conform to the poem takes on these issues and/or recall problems, or make large cognitive leaps immediately, you don't already use Twitter, you did: You are entirely and demonstrates some grasp of basic issues.
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ayanagiann · 4 years ago
Text
6 August 2020
I’ve been putting my writing out on IG as a little self validation experiment and I’m overwhelmed with how It’s being received. Brief poems I've jotted down on my phone or saved from scribbles on random pieces of paper have been words I’ve kept to myself for years. Now I’m being encouraged to share more, write more, even to consider getting published, and I could not be more grateful.
I don’t really consider myself much of a poet, but I am someone who has felt all kinds of love in my life. I think if there’s anything that’s always felt natural for me to ramble about it’s always been “love.” Whether it’s of experiences, places, or of course, relationships, my heart always has so much to say. Whether it’s aching or bursting, I always feel the desperate need to write. 
Lately I’ve been reading up more about the “framework” of my personality. Zodiac, Numerology, Enneagram, Myers Briggs, etc., comparing each one’s results and noticing more patterns about my existence than I already had before. Needless to say, there are clearly reasons why I have as much romanticism as I do existentialism: they really do go hand in hand when it comes to what makes me who I am, haha. 
Between friends/coworkers I’ve been having some interesting discussions not only about love, but the world, and life itself. What I’m finding is that there is so much compassion for each other and passion that surrounds me. Everyone cares about something or someone so deeply, myself included. We’re all out here working to attain the best for ourselves and be the best we can for each other, and it’s been a beautiful grind of a thing to witness.
For a moment what sparked this introspective series of incidents was me beginning to question my purpose and place in the lives of those closest to me. I started to question if I’m still on the right team -- If I needed to reassess the circle that surrounds me. And in learning more about myself and others, as well as putting more little bits of myself out there to the public, I’ve been able to weed out the relationships that have expired and rework the framework of my tribe. I’ve reached an ultimatum of who to let further in and who to let go. 
Despite there always being the inevitable uncertainty of the future, what I am sure of is that I’m meant for more than what I currently have and I’m a lot closer to knowing who I’ll share it all with when I get it. I know who I want to continue on with me to the next phase of my future, and now it’s just a matter of saying goodbye to those I don’t. 
Dusting off my older writing, remembering who I wrote those words for and why they are or aren't in my life anymore, really validated how my world rotates. How answers I seek to move forward, can easily be found by looking back on my past. How much evolution there has been as well as what has stayed consistent. Again, how I know everything will be okay. 
I’m curious to see how many more patterns will reveal themselves to me. For now, I think I’m just ready to meet everyone who’s meant to be in my life next. 
0 notes
museinspo · 8 years ago
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*.:。♦ ⋅ ⋆ — MUSING TAGS - QUOTE EDITION
i recently hit a huge milestone & reached the 2nd birthday for this blog, so i wanted to do something cute to give back & say thank you !!! with that being said, under the cut you’ll find 828 quotes that can be used for character musing tags ! they’ve been categorised into different labels ( eg. the baby doll, the lothario, the vixen, the cataclysmic, etc ) so some quotes may appear under more than one category. i do, however, recommend checking out all the categories !! they were just listed by my own interpretation and definitely aren’t limited to a certain label in the slightest. the pronouns used are simply what was used in the original line but can obviously be changed to fit your character. depending on personal preference, some may be a little too long but can be shortened down pretty easily. a general trigger warning is to be placed for these as they do reference some sensitive topics ( drugs, alcohol, sex, etc ), as the tags on my blog do. i believe that covers it all !! if you find this useful, please do like and/or reblog ! also, please let me know if you’d like to see a part two of this ! you can find the lyric version of this right here for more suggestions !!
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general (31)
better to be slapped with the truth than kissed with a lie.
he is terribly afraid of dying because he hasn’t lived yet.
she drew silver linings of her own.
like art she was beautiful but like art she was also complex.
my mother looks at me and sees my father’s mistakes.
desire is the kind of thing that eats you and leaves you starving. 
she was brave and strong and broken all at once.
i am the sea and nobody owns me.
your sweetness is more cruel than your hurt. 
she looks like royalty ; so fine and distinctive. 
compare me not to stars but to storms and hurricanes. 
fuck your soft words because i am not soft. 
love breaks my bones and i laugh. 
sipping cool red wine out of a long-stemmed glass.
chain smoking tastes like 50′s perfume if you try hard enough. 
she crunches diamonds between her teeth.
in this world that kills beauty ; even gods cannot survive the fall.
it inspires a keen nostalgia in her for the simpler times before. 
friends and family filled with envy when they should be filled with pride.
my first love was an insignificant boy when it should’ve been myself.
he flew darling. he may have fallen ; but first he dared to soar.
take the weight of your insecurities and lay them underneath a gravestone.
you have your fathers mouth and dreams of ripping it off your face. 
you lie to erase the memories from your naked body.
i’ve kept my feelings to myself for i’ve never found a language to express them.
you drink a little too much and go home alone. 
the most beautiful of angels are destined to fall. 
his biggest fear is ending up like his father. 
she was restless in a way that seemed permanent. 
i am mine before i am ever anyone else’s.
she isn’t human ; she is art with a heart.
the addictive (9)
i used to smoke to get high ; now i smoke to stay sane.
you drink like you have something to forget. 
his fingers flash with jeweled rings when he waves them ; dealing drugs out of his pocket. 
he spends his nights drinking jack and smoking weed.
i’ve got whisky with white lies and smoke in my lungs.
i’ll find comfort in my pain eraser. 
oh baby you’ve made mistakes and drained the bottles. 
the addictions that were killing me faster are the ones i loved the most. 
you drink a little too much and go home alone. 
the aesthete (21)
she had lavender in her hair and roses on her cheek.
she has the moon in her mind ; that’s why stars spill off her lips.
like art she was beautiful but like art she was also complex.
he craves the balm of beautiful and soft things.
there she was ; bathed in moonlight and silhouetted by stars. 
he was vulnerable ; to art and to the sky. 
her aura is made of poetry, roses and galaxies. 
to be written in ink is to be immortal. 
seduce me ; ravish me with your words and poems. 
he’s made up of silk and rose water.
everything has beauty but not everyone can see it.
let me tell you about the birds and the bees ; the moon and the stars.
like artwork i could admire you forever.
getting drunk on honeyed water with berry stained lips.
she’s dreaming of lace trimmed dresses and warm pink cheeks.
he wanted to be extraordinary to possess a savage glitter.
his trouble is that he falls in love with every pretty thing.
one day he realised he was made of light.
she wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes. 
he falls in love with details.
he’s always had a terrible weakness for beautiful things.
the anthomaniac (16)
she had lavender in her hair and roses on her cheek.
i need the empty field around me and my legs pounding along roads.
she longed to go far into the fields and listen to the birds. 
he sits before flowers hoping they’ll teach him the art of opening up. 
barefoot in grass and drinking fresh lemonade.
she was made of sunlight.
the earth laughs in flowers as does he. 
she wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes. 
she spent hours on the riverbank and had midnight swims.
i need the empty fields around me and my legs pounding along roads.
sensitive souls don’t have it easy ; that’s why their eyes light up when they breathe in the scent of a flower.
nature is not a place to visit ; it is home.
i have nature and art ; is that not enough?
he has a garden and a library ; that’s everything he needs.
for me ; beauty is first and foremost in nature.
there’s a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.
the artisan (28)
seduce me ; ravish me with your words and poems.
underestimate me so i can embarrass you. 
she has the moon in her mind ; that’s why stars spill off her lips.
rule #1 never be #2.
there is a loneliness only poetry knows.
painting is poetry than is seen rather than felt.
poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.
be my muse and you can have my soul.
gather the constellations in your mind ; press them to paper & call it art.
writers make love to whatever they need.
her eyes are classic novels and poetry.
to write is to hold the power of a thousand universes between paper and pen.
i write as if it can heal my broken heart.
i write what i could never say.
artists are prisoners of their own creations.
write to settle the rage within you. 
when she dances she looks like a poem about loss.
in writing you must kill all your darlings. 
it’s funny how artistic we become when our hearts are broken.
he left pieces of himself in his art.
there is a chaos in my mind that can only be quelled by my hand on a pen.
i want music that makes holes in the sky. 
with my beaten small guitar wearing the same old jeans.
i am writing to disappear. 
to be written in ink is to be immortal. 
show me a hero and i’ll write you a tragedy. 
heartbreak makes poets of us all.
she had literature inside her heart that she couldn’t sometimes write.
the astrophile (20)
i would drink the sky and inhale the stars if i could. 
i want to exhale stardust and create my own constellations.
moonlit princess in the night.
the stars in her eyes are far more beautiful than those in the sky.
and the stars whispered ‘come home’
i look up at the moon and wonder who else is looking too.
let me tell you about the birds and the bees ; the moon and the stars.
you are a cosmic child ; a celestial wonder.
she has the moon in her mind ; that’s why stars spill off her lips.
she’s beauty she’s grace she’s in love with aliens and space.
people hope to touch the sky ; i dream of kissing it.
i would drink the sky and inhale stars if i could. 
i want to exhale stardust and create my own constellations.
i saw galaxies in your eyes ; your love put stars in my evening skies.
you will give meaning to the evening skies. 
now we’re lost somewhere in outerspace. 
her aura is made of poetry roses and galaxies.
when you dream ; do you dream of the stars?
i can see the stars from the window of my bedroom and i think i’m in love.
she dreams under the midnight sun of colour and melodic heartbeats. 
the baby doll (21)
she’s in the window in her pink dress ; radiant & transparent. 
she had lavender in her hair and roses on her cheek.
she has the moon in her mind ; that’s why stars spill off her lips.
there she was ; bathed in moonlight and silhouetted by stars. 
she tastes like fairytales. 
their soul is baby pink and very expensive. 
her idea of love was gentle and silent like a whisper of a touch.
she was like cherry wine and what a lovely headache she left behind.
to be soft is to be powerful.
she’s made of silk rose water and glitter.
she spritzes her face with rose water and moves on.
his voice is honey.
his affection comes fast or not at all.
she falls in love with the attention you give rather than the person.
he’s gentle and soft.
everything about her is so captivating ; like the aftermath of a storm. 
she possesses an innocence so destructive she puts angels to shame.
he’s a glimpse of bliss ; a little taste of heaven. 
she doesn’t love ; she quickly falls and ever so slowly picks herself back up and walks away.
there’s something godly yet sinful about loving her. 
she wasn’t afraid of being left ; she was afraid of being forgotten.
the bellwether (11)
she’s in the window in her pink dress ; radiant & transparent. 
there she was ; bathed in moonlight and silhouetted by stars. 
she wore her dress almost as well as she wore the universe.
she uses stardust as a highlighter.
stay until enough people have had time to admire your attire. 
my mascara’s too expensive to cry over this.
fashion is the most powerful art there is.
he doesn’t wear outfits ; he creates looks.
she wishes she could make decisions the way she picked her clothes ; from a catalogue.
the sound of heels on pavement is the ultimate power trip.
you can never be overdressed or overeducated.
the benevolent (26)
you blossom under kindness like a rose.
you managed to have a soft heart and peaceful mind despite the cruelty of the world.
you don’t have to be a child to be naive ; just have too much of a good heart.
she would have swallowed the sun to make you warm enough.
to love and lose and to still be kind.
her hands are soft and her eyes shine in the sun. 
she laughs like she hasn’t a care in the world. 
he’s got a heart so pure ; i bet he has flowers growing between his ribs.
she was not a girl of ice and glass but of sunshine and stardust.
she emits warmth and injects laughter into the people she encounters. 
isn’t it ironic that you take care of everyone but yourself?
she dismissed those who stopped her from being able to see the world’s good.
she tastes like hope.
kind people are forged in fire and darkness and imploding stars. 
he was made of sunlight.
to be soft is to be powerful.
optimism can save the world. 
she cares ; its kind of her thing. 
all he wanted was to receive the love he gave. 
you’re soft like spring flowers and the white feathers inside your pillow. 
there’s bravery in being soft. 
it takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations. 
the world gave him so much pain and here he was turning it to gold. 
he takes care of everyone but himself. 
her voice is honey. 
you are not weak just because your heart is so heavy. 
the bibliomaniac (15)
i grew up in the shadow of a big bookcase ; where verses and novels all mingled and murmured.
books became her friends and there was one for every mood.
she made a vow to read one book a day as long as she lived.
novels aren’t just happy escapes ; they are slivers of peoples souls. 
books were cold but safe friends ; he adored them. 
walking the stacks in a library ; feeling the presence of sleeping spirits.
books gave him a comforting message ; you are not alone. 
he finds himself turning to books and films for comfort. 
a library is like an island in a vast sea of ignorance. 
he dreams of old books and french cafes. 
he loves fictional characters because he has a habit of loving people who can’t love him back. 
novels aren’t just happy escapes ; they are slivers of people’s souls. 
her eyes are classic novels and poetry. 
he always imagined paradise as being some kind of library. 
she wants to be the kind of woman people read books about. 
the cataclysmic (20)
you will learn why storms are named after people.
i’ll swallow my blood before i swallow my pride.
there were girls who would tear you apart with their lips.
you took a wonder boy and you threw him away to become a monster.
the world demanded hate from her and so hate she gave.
girls like her were born in a storm. 
how do i stay tender with this much blood in my mouth?
she sins to forget she has a heart.
you’ll understand why storms are named after people.
her mind is a very dangerous and destructive place.
real darkness was more than just a lack of light.
do monsters make war or does war make monsters?
if i’m anything it is violence. 
to you everything tastes like blood.
she was destruction given form and purpose.
she held an elegant savagery. 
not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.
you’re more than the fires you’ve walked through and the storms you’ve caused.
he tore the beauty from his face and called it terror. 
there is blood in everything you say. 
the connard (15)
my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.
not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.
take off your armor and let your skin breathe. 
those who are heartless once cared too much. 
he spent his life learning to feel less. 
she can be so cruel and it comes so quickly that birds fly away. 
how to be unapproachable ; a book by me. 
i know i’m fucking moody and i know i’m quite unkind. 
mood ; not in the mood. 
smiling is a sign of weakness. 
sorry i’m such an asshole. 
on one hand who cares and in the other hand so what. 
most likely to not give a fuck.
in memory of when i cared. 
being brutally honest is a different shade of mean. 
the coquette (20)
there were girls who would tear you apart with their lips. 
she sins to forget she has a heart.
she’s like a rose ; she’s beautiful and enchanting but her roots are full of wounds.
she tasted like imported sophistication and domestic cigarettes.
she kissed demons and slept with ghosts because living with the dead felt more like home.
a pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty heart.
she looked at young men like she could smell their stupidity.
she’s a sweet talker with great legs ; her affections fleeting and wild.
she was sweet like cherry wine ; what a lovely headache she left behind.
her hair was long and her eyes were wild. 
how to be a heartbreaker. 
she’s no angel.
blow a kiss ; fire a gun.
she could tear you apart with her lips. 
her attention comes fast or not at all. 
she touches herself with strawberry painted fingers. 
call me your baby girl. 
boys play with toys and girls play with boys. 
she wasn’t actually in love but she felt a tender curiosity. 
they hate her because she smells of vanilla and doesn’t pick up her phone. 
the credulous (14)
you don’t have to be a child to be naive ; just have too much of a good heart.
she laughs like she hasn’t a care in the world.
he’s so busy looking for the good in people he misses the knife they’re holding in their hand.
he’s the definition of starry eyed. 
she thinks she’s living in a fairytale ; it’s why she fears the world so much. 
she feels too vulnerable and soft for the world. 
when someone shows her their true colours ; she tries to paint a different picture. 
he was blinded by how people took him for granted. 
be gentle with her ; she’s more vulnerable than she appears. 
he’s always depended on the kindness of strangers. 
she burned too bright for this world. 
he knows too much and not enough. 
she possesses an innocence so destructive she puts angels to shame.
she will love you unconditionally and that may be the saddest part about her.
the crepehanger (22)
she’s rotting quietly under her skits with a melancholy smile.
the world demanded hate from her and so hate she gave.
my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.
her imagination has made friends with the dark parts of her mind.
she was a compulsive pessimist ; always looking for the soft brown spot in the fruit ; pressing so hard she created it.
you have such a february face ; so full of frost of storm and cloudiness.
and i’m disgusted with dreams now.
be like snow ; beautiful but cold.
she wears darkness as a queen wears her crown.
show me a hero and i’ll write you a tragedy. 
he doesn’t expect sunshine and rainbows to be coming from every aspect of life. 
be like snow ; beautiful but cold. 
i’m full of poetry now ; rot and poetry. 
but his bones knew something wonderful about darkness. 
she is rotting quietly under her skirts with a melancholy smile. 
a negative mind will never give a positive life. 
he became bitter and untouchable. 
you know what they say about hope ; it breeds eternal misery. 
i overflow like this black night. 
she walked with darkness dripping off her shoulders. 
i’ve seen ghosts brighter than his soul. 
we’re all cynics and romantics ; sometimes simultaneously. 
the crestfallen (20)
she’s rotting quietly under her skits with a melancholy smile. 
i am made of insecurities.
you are not weak just because your heart feels so heavy.
sadness flirts with my soul and takes that too.
take the weight of your insecurities and lay them underneath a gravestone.
you may be in pain but you are not weak. 
if only her life could be more like the movies. 
what hasn’t killed her has made her oversensitive and defensive. 
she’s a lions roar ; broken glass and a thousand tiny paper cuts. 
when he’s sad he doesn’t say a word. 
she’s standing in the window ; transparent and lost. 
crying doesn’t mean you’re weak ; it means you’re alive. 
she’s strong but she’s exhausted. 
silence is not a song you should know all the words too.
some say she’s very poetic others say she’s very sad. 
sadness fucks me way too often.
she is broken and she won’t ask for help.
he’s broken apart his insides.
when he moves he looks like a poem about loss. 
he believes he’s nothing without his pain. 
the crimson (20)
you’ll understand why storms are named after people.
she wanted a storm to match her rage.
she slipped her anger into something silky and attractive. 
i have the world raging under my skin.
she beats her knuckles into other peoples jawbones ; the fight club is her temple.
to you everything tastes like blood.
she hissed ; her teeth dripping crimson. 
he’s never been good at emotional stuff ; except anger. 
he’ll argue about anything with anyone. 
and the grace of the gods is a grace that comes by violence. 
there is blood in all the things you say. 
tragedy exists because you are full of rage. 
he’s got fire for a heart. 
he has the whole world raging beneath his skin.
the world demanded hate from her so hate she gave. 
there is so much hate in his heart. 
rage is the only emotion he’s good at feeling. 
he’s a tiny yet angry force of nature. 
make me your enemy and you shall see fury. 
he’s made up of black coffee and poorly supressed anger. 
the despondent (26)
skin deep damage does not make you unlovable. 
i’ve turned people into homes and i ended up homeless.
the feeling of emptiness is incredibly intoxicating.
she’s strong but she’s exhausted.
my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.
if only hell didn’t feel like home.
he became bitter and untouchable.
her imagination has made friends with the dark parts of her mind.
she fought best when she was breaking.
there is a beauty in the emptiness of your soul.
he opens his mouth and dust spills out instead of feelings.
sadness flirts with my soul and takes that too.
she walked with darkness dripping off her shoulders. 
i’ve seen ghosts brighter than her soul.
i’m a ghost that everyone can see.
be like snow ; beautiful but cold.
take the weight of your insecurities and lay them underneath a gravestone.
not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.
his chest caves in whenever he thinks about the past. 
it’s so dark in the room you’ve chosen to store your regrets. 
you’ve handled tragedy ; surely you can handle tenderness. 
maybe emptiness is a way of listening. 
he spent his life learning to feel less. 
she wears darkness as a queen wears her crown.
you may be in pain but you are not weak. 
a lot of confidence generates disappointment.
the dirtbag (15)
his motorcycle is the loudest noise in the city that never sleeps.
his fingers flash with jeweled rings when he waves them ; dealing drugs out of his pocket. 
he spends his nights drinking jack and smoking weed.
his life is flashing lights and nights in jail for petty theft. 
she’s a burden on society. 
you were wild once ; don’t let me them tame you.
she spends her day riding motorcycles and smoking cigarettes. 
he told me he was afraid of commitment with thirteen tattoos on his body.
mood ; not in the mood. 
on one hand who cares and on the other hand so what. 
he always finds the energy to sin. 
he loves the way being bad feels. 
boys who skate are better at grinding. 
she doesn’t give a damn about her reputation. 
property of no one.
the facade (15)
she’s like a volcano ; cool and calm on the surface with lava running through her veins.
you wear a mask for so long you forget who you were beneath it.
your mouth can lie but your eyes can’t.
you are not her anymore ; always presenting a different facade. 
her eyes said more than words can say.
alone in my head ; i am content to pretend.
in a world where everyone wears a mask ; it’s a privilege to see a soul.
everyone saw a princess but inside she was on fire ; crashing and burning.
look at her smile and in the corner of her smile you’ll find the smallest hint of sadness.
her eyes are pure stars but her touch will freeze you to the bone.
not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.
take off your armor and let your skin breathe.
he spent his life learning to feel less.  
kind faces are a lie.
i’ve met people who have never met me. 
the fallen angel (16)
everything my mother prayed i wouldn’t be i became. 
my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.
how do i stay tender with this much blood in my mouth?
if only hell didn’t feel like home.
i was a goddess and now i ache.
he became bitter and untouchable.
maybe you have to know the darkness before you can appreciate the light.
i’ve lost so many battles but i won’t lose the war.
she was not a girl of ice and glass but of sunshine and stardust.
in this world that kills beauty ; even gods cannot survive the fall.
and i’m disgusted with dreams now.
skin deep damage does not make you unlovable. 
you’re more than the fires you’ve walked through and the storms you’ve caused.
my father looks at me and sees everything i used to be. 
you may be in pain but you are not weak. 
broken isn’t the same as unfixable.
the fervour (17)
i never learned how to love in small doses.
pick up your heart on the way out.
those who truly love never stop loving.
i would rather die of passion than of boredom.
she felt everything too deeply ; it was like the world was too much for her.
he’s a lover without a lover.
i’m still a sensitive woman just with passion.
she creates entire romances in her dreams.
he’s an incurable romantic. 
she falls in love so passionately and out of love so painfully.
i never learned how to love in small doses. 
he has no notion of loving people by halves. 
god save the romantics who wil destroy themselves for a better story.
it’s both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply.
he spent his life learning to feel less. 
my heart just sang and out poured my soul.
her idea of love was gentle and silent like a whisper of a touch.
the grifter (3)
she thinks manipulation is the greatest art of them all.
she’ll look you in the eye as she tears you open. 
he’s the best at what he does and what he does isn’t pretty. 
the halcyon (20)
he is terribly afraid of dying because he hasn’t lived yet.
love her but leave her wild.
she loved the sea ; it made her feel small but free as well.
i never learned how to love in small doses. 
lay underneath the clothes line and listen.
people like you are not meant to stand still.
you were wild once ; don’t let them tame you. 
her foot was light and her eyes were wild. 
optimism can save the world. 
he’s alive with pleasure. 
he refuses to die ordinary. 
he doesn’t get attached to moments because good or bad ; they all pass. 
she didn’t allow life to just happen to her ; she traveled the world and wrote books about it.
once you learn to create your own happiness ; no one can take that away from you.
she likes her hair messy her love wild and her sex aggressive. 
she wants to love and radiant light. 
home doesn’t exist for girls like her. 
a life lived in fear is a life half-lived.
he wants to touch the sun and immerse in the sea. 
take your shoes off and dance in the rain.
the impecunious (5)
now your wallet is nothing more than empty space. 
the girl of her dreams was herself but with more money.
nothing to steal. 
girls just want to have funds. 
he wants to work until his bank account looks like a phone number.
the impious (7)
every day that satan tempts me i take it in my stride.
she’s no angel.
he believes in hell and he’s in it. 
she sins to forget she has a heart.
he always finds the time to sin.
god is love but satan does that thing with his tongue that you love so much. 
he refuses to believe he’s not the god of his own universe.
the intangible concept (16)
she was truly a puzzle but god forgive anyone who mistook her for a game.
her smile screamed ‘you don’t know me and you never will.’
i’ve met people who have never actually met me.
i’m a different person to different people but unknown to a lot.
she rolled into town like a new mystery. 
for he had a great variety of selves.
he’s a mystery wrapped up in a pretty body.
she looked pale and mysterious ; like a lily under water.
her eyes reminded me of tinted windows ; she could see out but you couldn’t see in.
you will never know the real him.
accept the mystery.
she was like the moon ; part of her was always hidden away.
he’s as beautiful and mysterious as the night sky.
perhaps she loves mysteries so much that she became one.
trying to understand him is like trying to hold smoke in your hands.
she spoke to no one and carried secrets in her eyes.
the isolato (15)
i need the empty field around me and my legs pounding along roads.
loneliness becomes an acid that eats away at you.
i was quiet but i was not blind.
alone in my head ; i am content to pretend.
loneliness is like a drug ; you know it’s bad for you yet you keep going back.
she’s so transparent ; she could disappear without a trace. 
i wasn’t lonely when i was alone. 
he doesn’t mind being alone so long as he doesn’t feel lonely. 
she doesn’t let anyone in so she doesn’t risk the chance of losing them.
he was born alone and he’ll die alone.
she believes she’s better on her own.
she spoke to no one and carried secrets in her eyes.
he felt alone in a crowded room.
he could disappear forever and no one would notice ; that’s how he liked it.
she has no time for meaningless conversations and friendships.
the lost soul (15)
travel far enough that you meet yourself.
i am a language i am yet to understand.
you will find your place in this lost world and give meaning to the stars.
i mean different things to different people ; but who am i to me?
i was quiet but i was not blind.
how does he know who he even is ?
she’s in the window looking lost and transparent. 
he feels homesick for a place that doesn’t exist.
he’s a ghost that everyone can see.
when she moves she looks like a poem about loss.
how can he move forward when he doesn’t know which way he’s facing?
i’m the place between who i want to be and who others have made me out to be.
he’s starting to miss the person he used to be.
his mind is an ever going ocean with dark shades of teal.
two years later and i was gone.
the lothario (15) 
he told me he was afraid of commitment with thirteen tattoos on his body.
my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.
his mouth is heaven ; his kisses falling over me like stars.
he is lust ; he is sex in the back seat of a car. 
he is an angel made of devilish grins and laughter.
he’s a god in human form but he’s got a corrupted soul.
he is the dangerous boy with the wild heart. 
a pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty heart.
he’s a sweet talker with great legs ; his affections fleeting and wild.
there’s a hunger inside of me ; a thirst to be godly. 
how to be a heartbreaker.
don’t give pieces of your heart away that you’re not even sure you have.
he was temptingly beautiful but stung anyone who got too close. 
blow a kiss ; fire a gun. 
he has persuasive lips but terrible motives. 
the magnate (21)
underestimate me so i can embarrass you. 
rule #1 never be #2.
he’s a corporate ceo ; making storms in other peoples lives.
there’s a hunger inside of me ; a thirst to be godly. 
the lawyer with the briefcase can steal more money than the man with the gun.
the sound of heels on pavement is the ultimate power trip.
she’s driven by power and profit.
stressed but well dressed.
act like you trust people but don’t.
you can never be overdressed or overeducated. 
she thinks manipulation is the greatest art form of all.
people like her don’t write books ; she’s written about. 
if you’re good at something never do it for free.
she’s a powerful girl.
be ambitious not thirsty.
her favourite position is ceo.
it’s only failure if you don’t learn something.
he doesn’t stop until he’s proud.
we all die ; his goal is to create something that never will.
intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings.
find a way ; if there isn’t one make one.
the miscreant (7)
his life is flashing lights and nights in jail for petty theft.
dressed to kill.
she sins to forget she has a heart. 
at what point does a man turn into a monster?
he’s the best at what he does and what he does isn’t pretty.
his fingers flash with jeweled rings when he waves them ; dealing drugs out of his pocket.
she’s a burden on society.
the paracosmist (21)
her imagination has made friends with the dark parts of her mind.
people hope to touch the sky ; i dream of kissing it.
i fear my imagination ; i’ve fallen so deeply in love with people and places i’ve only dreamt of.
things rarely happened the way he’d imagined them. 
the real world is where the monsters are. 
her mind stays up all night telling itself stories.
if only her life could resemble the movies. 
go after dreams not people.
only her dreams will keep her from falling apart.
he’s always dreaming ; even when he’s awake.
he has an entire universe inside her mind.
she thinks she’s living in a fairytale ; it’s why she fears the world so much.
he creates entire romances in his dreams.
she fears her imagination for she’s fallen in love with places she’s never been and people she’s never met.
he’s in a world of his own.
why stop dreaming when you wake up?
the world needs fantasy not reality.
a thousand dreams within me softly burn.
life is hard but dreaming is not.
we lead strange lives ; chasing our dreams from place to place.
she tastes like fairytales ; she tastes like hope.
the paradox (17)
fire in her bones ; honey in her soul.
she’s sweet when she has to be & fierce when she needs to be.
i’m part heaven and equal parts hell.
she was the kind of girl who was a chaos of contradictions.
her heart has an argument with her head every time it beats.
we’re all cynics and romantics ; sometimes simultaneously.
she is madness ; she is hell and paradise.
she was truly a puzzle but god forgive anyone who mistook her for a game.
the girl has always been half goddess, half hell. 
he’s got both light and dark inside of him.
she tastes like nectar and salt.
we all have both light and dark inside of us.
he wears darkness and strength equally well.
the girl has always been half goddess half hell.
fire in his bones honey in his soul.
he told me he was afraid of commitment with thirteen tattoos on his body.
he feels everything so strongly or not at all.
the pastiche (20) 
everything my mother prayed i wouldn’t be i became.
you took a wonder boy and you threw him away to become a monster.
the world demanded hate from her and so hate she gave.
how do i stay tender with this much blood in my mouth?
if only hell didn’t feel like home.
no one has apologised for all that i have lost.
do monsters make war or does war make monsters?
not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.
skin deep damage does not make you unlovable. 
you’re more than the fires you’ve walked through and the storms you’ve caused.
don’t apologise for the way you chose to survive. 
his chest caves in whenever he thinks about the past. 
you were wild once ; don’t let them tame you. 
my father looks at me and sees everything i used to be. 
he used to be better.
she’s not entirely here ; half of her has disappeared. 
we are good people and we’ve suffered enough.
i am sorry for who i had to become to survive. 
he wants himself back but he doesn’t remember who that is.
who i was then and who i am now are vastly different. 
the philophobe (16) 
he told me he was afraid of commitment with thirteen tattoos on his body. 
my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.
he’s not afraid to love ; he’s afraid of not being loved back.
silly boy she laughed ; love is for fools.
my first love was an insignificant boy when it should’ve been myself.
name the taste of your last heartbreak and spit it out. 
do not fall in love.
i have love inside of me but i don’t know how to use it ; it scratches like barbs.
you were temptingly beautiful but stung when someone got close.
love scares her more than a gun.
she’s afraid of love so she doesn’t love anything.
loving was painfully awful and terrifying for her.
he craves attention but the mere thought of someone caring made his stomach turn.
she’s convinced that to love was to be torn apart.
she’s too busy being scared to realise she’s already in love.
his sin was falling in love and he’s learned his lesson.
the phoenix (20)
you can’t change the past but you can alter the future.
i survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.
you are not her anymore ; always running away from feelings.
you are not her anymore ; not that masked and layered princess.
you are not her anymore ; always presenting a different facade.
my first love was an insignificant boy when it should’ve been myself.
he flew darling. he may have fallen ; but first he dared to soar.
the way you brave your chest to the world is terribly brave.
you’re more than the fires you’ve walked through and the storms you’ve caused.
don’t apologise for the way you chose to survive. 
his chest caves in whenever he thinks about the past. 
admire your reflection as you step out of the haze of what's gone. 
do better and move on.
broken isn’t the same as unfixable.
someday the pain will be useful.
if the hurt comes so will happiness.
she forgave and became.
her best revenge was improving herself.
the sun will rise and he will try again.
you have suffered enough ; it’s time that you won.
the polymath / academic (17)
underestimate me so i can embarrass you.
the more he acquires the more certain he is that he knows nothing.
the possession of knowledge does not kill the sense of wonder and mystery.
happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing i know.
i can’t live in blissful ignorance like others. 
he’s interested in everything and in nothing else.
we are voyagers ; discoverers of the not known. 
everything interests me but nothing holds me.
you can never be overdressed or overeducated.
it’s only failure if you don’t learn something.
he doesn’t stop until he’s proud.
intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings.
keep growing and learning.
his mind is as big as the universe.
true intelligence operates quietly.
it’s only failure if you don’t learn anything.
remind yourself that it’s okay to not be perfect.
the pristine (15) 
you don’t have to be a child to be naive ; just have too much of a good heart. 
her hands are soft and her eyes shine in the sun. 
she laughs like she hasn’t a care in the world. 
he’s got a heart so pure ; i bet he has flowers growing between his ribs.
she possess an innocence so destructive ; she puts angels to shame.
you’re soft like spring flowers and sunsets and white feathers inside your pillow.
she tastes like fairytales ; she tastes like hope.
to be soft is to be powerful.
he’s soft like spring flowers and sunsets. 
his voice is honey. 
you don’t have to be a child to be naive ; you just have to have too much of a good heart. 
he looked like milk and honey would flow out of him.
be gentle with them ; they’re more delicate than they look. 
you’re a glimpse of bliss ; a little taste of heaven. 
they’re as pure as a river. 
the prosperous (15) 
we are beautiful and privileged. 
there’s a hunger inside of me ; a thirst to be godly. 
the sound of heels on pavement is the ultimate power trip.
he’s driven by power and profit.
her soul is pink and very expensive. 
billionaire boys club.
you can never be overdressed or overeducated. 
she wanted to be extraordinary. 
she’s a trust fund baby. 
people like me don’t write books ; we’re written about.
selfish people live longer.
money makes her romantic.
he’s spoiled and selfish.
the devil does indeed wear prada. 
her aesthetic is money and fighting with people.
the reticent (16) 
no one will ever be able to totally capture her ; she seemed so evanescent.
nothing haunts you like unexpressed feelings.
silence is not a song you should know all the words to.
your mouth can lie but your eyes can’t.
she kept her thoughts to herself.
her eyes said more than words can say.
the secrets inside her mind are like flowers in a garden at nighttime ; filling the darkness with perfume.
he’s met people who have never truly met him.
you don’t ask ; i don’t tell.
things she can’t say outloud.
he wants to write a novel about silence ; the things people don’t say.
if you don’t get it off your chest you’ll never be able to breathe. 
i don’t think anyone will ever truly capture her ; she’s so evanescent.
secrets that i held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought. 
he doesn’t care who sees him naked ; he cares who sees him cry. 
she was like the moon ; part of her was always hidden away. 
the reveller (10) 
she sins to forget she has a heart.
you drink like you have something to forget. 
he spends his nights drinking jack and smoking weed.
i’ve got whisky with white lies and smoke in my lungs.
you were wild once ; don’t let them tame you. 
you drink a little too much and go home alone. 
she doesn’t give a damn about her reputation.
good times ; bad friends.
he’d rather be getting high.
dance all night ; sleep all day.
the self destructive (15) 
if they can’t find anything to destroy ; they destroy themselves.
my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.
i destroyed myself so you couldn’t hurt me.
you play with fire because you want to be burned.
he has a habit of self destruction.
god save the romantics who wil destroy themselves for a better story.
my hands are full of ash because i burn everything i touch. 
he plays with fire because he wants to be burnt.
you will learn why storms are named after people.
she was destruction given form and purpose.
she held an elegant savagery. 
nothing can destroy me like i can destroy myself. 
you can’t scare a girl by screaming fire if she wants to be burned. 
i desire the things that will destroy me in the end. 
my hands are full of ash ; i burn down everything i touch.
the solicitous (12) 
she’s drowning in an ocean of thoughts.
he’s tired ; he just wants the world to be quiet for a bit.
she was calm on the outside but thinking all the time.
the voice inside my head speaks louder than the one that comes out vocally.
he just wants to escape one thing ; his head at night.
her thoughts are haunting her.
too busy feeling feelings and overthinking it.
once he learnt to think he couldn’t stop.
i think i worry too much ; i need to take it easy. 
maybe i think too much for my own good.
most of the stuff people worry about never happens. 
he’s afraid of talking nonsense.
the sovereign (21)
not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.
she thinks manipulation is the greatest art of them all.
you think i’m not a goddess? try me. touch me and you’ll burn.
i’m learning to sharpen my teeth and rule kingdoms.
oh royal princess ; i love the way you wear your crown.
be careful royal princess ; too much and you will drown.
she was afraid of being forgotten.
a pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty heart.
look to your kingdoms ; i am coming for them all.
everyone saw a princess but inside she was on fire ; crashing and burning.
rule #1 never be #2.
she looked at young men like she could smell their stupidity.
there’s only one queen of the underworld.
queens raise queens.
she was destruction given form and purpose.
she held an elegant savagery. 
who still believes in kings?
the girl has always been half goddess, half hell. 
she wears darkness as a queen wears her crown.
she wasn’t afraid of being left ; she was afraid of being forgotten.
the sound of heels on pavement is the ultimate power trip.
the traveler (15) 
no one will ever be able to totally capture her ; she seemed so evanescent. 
travel far enough that you meet yourself.
she loved the sea ; it made her feel small but free as well.
home doesn’t exist for girls like me.
we are voyagers ; discoverers of the not known. 
she runs until the world is quiet and the smells are peaceful.
people like you are not meant to stand still.
remind yourself of how fast you’re able to run. 
no matter where you run ; you always end up running into yourself. 
she longed to go far into the fields and listen to the birds. 
he’s flirting with life ; teasing each city with his presence before leaving them behind. 
be inspired by beauty everywhere ; be a citizen of the world.
i love places that make you realise how tiny you are in the world.
he wants to see every kind of sunset. 
be a traveler not a tourist.
the urbanite (10) 
his motorcycle is the loudest noise in the city that never sleeps. 
if you want to find love than you know where the city is. 
she loved the loud cry of the city. 
but first ; coffee. 
everyone hurts themselves in the city ; then they pick themselves up to not get in anyone elses way. 
living in new york city is like dating a comedian ; fun while it last but when it’s over man is it over. 
she loves to make coffee for the city that loves to drink it.
he loves the empty streets and 5 am winds of the city. 
brooklyn baby.
smells like cold coffee stress and aesthetic in here.
the utopian (5)
she thinks she’s living a fairytale ; that’s why she fears the world so much.
her idea of love was soft and gentle like a whisper of a touch.
he never learned how to love in small doses.
people wait a lifetime for true happiness.
he thinks fate is behind everything.
the vindictive (16)
i’ll swallow my blood before i swallow my pride.
you took a wonder boy and you threw him away to become a monster.
my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.
you’ll understand why storms are named after people.
she wanted a storm to match her rage.
she fought best when she was breaking.
no one has apologised for all that i have lost.
is it better to out monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?
a pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty heart.
to you everything tastes like blood.
you will learn why storms are named after people.
his chest caves in whenever he thinks about the past. 
it’s so dark in the room you’ve chosen to store your regrets. 
he tore the beauty from his face and called it terror. 
there’s a hunger inside of me ; something vicious. 
there is blood in everything you say. 
the vixen (25)
there were girls who would tear you apart with their lips.
i’m part heaven and equal parts hell.
girls like her were born in a storm. 
love her but leave her wild.
she sins to forget she has a heart.
she’s like a rose ; she’s beautiful and enchanting but her roots are full of wounds.
she wanted to be extraordinary ; to possess a savage glitter.
you’ll understand why storms are named after people.
she tasted like imported sophistication and domestic cigarettes.
she thinks manipulation is the greatest art of them all.
home doesn’t exist for girls like me.
like art she was beautiful but like art she was also complex.
people find her madness charming because she is so beautiful.
a pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty heart.
everything about her is captivating like the aftermath of a storm.
she looked at young men like she could smell their stupidity.
she was taught young to strike first and you’ll always be safe.
she was destruction given form and purpose.
she held an elegant savagery. 
not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.
you’re more than the fires you’ve walked through and the storms you’ve caused.
the girl has always been half goddess, half hell. 
she wears darkness as a queen wears her crown.
she was sweet like cherry wine ; what a lovely headache she left behind.
the sound of heels on pavement is the ultimate power trip.
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thetravellingvagrant · 7 years ago
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Day 6: Iasi- Grumble Warning
Ok, so, I've fallen a bit behind on posts and the one I was working on just deleted itself in a fit of selfishness, so I plan, over the course of today, to upload three mini-updates of significantly reduced length, in an effort to not send myself mental, trying to catch up. Don't worry. You won't be missing much.
So, let's speed through day 6; for the first time on the trip I had managed to let myself wake up naturally, without my alarm or (despite their best, snore-laden efforts) room-mates prematurely rousing me. Consequently, I slept until 12 and had managed to waste a good portion of my first full day in Iasi.
I shared my room with an odd Romanian man, who we will get to later and another, eerily quiet, fairly creepy man who had sat stock still, the previous night, not moving, even to check his phone when it went off, save for one incident, where he sauntered directly over to my bunk to thrust a piece of melon into my face, to ask if I wanted some. I did not. Melon is gross. By the time I had woken up, however, both men had vacated the room, with my melon based assailant seemingly having done so permanently. I was very glad of this fact.
After a genuinely infuriating experience of trying to drag my incredibly low-end laptop through the relatively demanding experience of trying to book accommodation for Cluj-Napoca; my next destination, through AirBnB, who had also arbitrarily decided that I, all of a sudden, needed to scan my passport into the website in order to make any further bookings, for some mad reason, I finally managed to get out into Iasi, to explore the city properly. Sort of.
The sky was badly overcast, meaning, that once again, despite it being pre-sunset, my jaunt into the surrounding area would be undertaken essentially in darkness. Regardless, I pressed on to my first objective of the day; to hoover up souvenirs, like a mad tat-vaccuum.
I stopped, for what I hoped would be a flying visit, though actually ended up taking up a good portion of what remained of my day, at a gift shop I had spied on my way in to the hostel, the previous day. A timid little man greeted me upon my entry and asked what I was looking for, for whom and what my budget was. I told him and he considered for a moment, before demonstrating at wearying length each piece of stock he felt fit the bill, which, as it turned out, was nearly every piece of stock he owned. After an awfully long time, he stopped talking and I picked the piece of tat I most felt would make an appropriate gift and attempted to pay. He insisted on gift-wrapping it, despite the fact that I told him I did not need it gift wrapped, nor did I expect the structural integrity of the wrap to hold up, during my flight home. But, no. He did it anyway.
I left and, after a quick stop at a nearby mall to pick up a fridge magnet, upon which my demanding (though still nice) girlfriend insists I bring back for her, I was finally ready to explore the city. Like, for real this time.
I sat in a nearby park and pulled out the comically huge map I had been given by the hostel
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I mean LOOK at it...
before feeling a bit embarrassed and putting it away, after taking a quick photo of it to take note of the highlighted areas of interest. I decided, in lieu of a better plan, to saunter between them, despite the fact that most, if not all of them just seemed to be old churches.
The walk was nice enough, with my podcasts filling my ears to distract me from the low-key mundanity and creeping cold that was setting in, though probably not of any huge interest to the blog, as it can be summed up in the single sentence “I saw some churches”. I nearly went to a museum which featured exhibits on life in the area at around 4000BC, which sounded interesting, but by the time I had arrived, it was getting close to its closing time, and so I did not.
I ended up, instead, in a nearby park, which my giganto-map had told me, I my memory served, had inspired numerous romanian poets to create their best work. It was, however, by the time I arrived, a little after sunset, and so I was only really inspired to leave.
Finally, I made a quick stop at LIDL to buy far, far, far too many pastries to make my nine hour train ride the following day, less shit.
The LIDL, though quite nice, had the curious flaw of not having any baskets for me to use, hanging around. People had trolleys, but I had no idea from where they originated. Instead, I was forced to just sort of fill my pockets, tuck under my arm and otherwise clutch onto the not insubstantial amount of things I wanted to buy. It was awkward and uncomfortable and for some time afterwards, my hands more resembled talons, but I powered through, little soldier that I am, and made my pleasingly cheap purchases. I remembered to buy a bag for the walk home.
I returned to the hostel and set about my evening bibble before being interrupted by my strange Romanian room-mate, whom I had previously mentioned. He stumbled into the room.
“...Deed you see the city?”
“Sorry?”
“...Deed you go and look at thee ceety?”
“What, today?” I asked, feeling vaguely affronted, like he was judging me for being in the hostel so often, when I could be outside exploring this gloriously mundane town. “Yes, I just got back.” I challenged, adding “I was out walking around for like five hours”, just to make him feel like a real piece of shit.
He seemed to drop the subject and wandered over to the window.
“You know eet was snoweenk earlier?” he said, desperate to prove that I wasn't paying enough attention to the outside world, apparently.
“Oh” I replied. “No, I didn't.”
“Yeah, its stopped now, theenk you meesed it”
Oh, fuck off.
“Ah, well, there'll always be more snow...” I said, philosophically.
“Who knows, man” he answered back, also philosophically, but at the same time, stupidly. “Weenters are getting warmer, you know”
“Yeah, true...” I mumbled back, out of politeness
“When I was a keed, always such huge snow in weenter, but nowadays, not so much”
“Well, that's global warming for you...”. My stock reply to people talking about weather I'm not interested in.
“...I don't believe so much in global warmeenk”
...Oh, no.
“Oh?” I queried, knowing full well that I was getting dragged down this rabbit hole, whether I wanted or not.
“Yeah, I mean it maybe happens, but its effect is like a drop in the ocean, compared to the governments weather controlling”
“...Wat.” I thought, and also accidentally said out loud.
“You know, chemtrails etc, you know government controls weather right?”
I wanted to just nod and smile, but I couldn't bring myself to. I had never actually come face-to-face with someone who harboured such a stupid belief. You hear about climate change deniers, flat-earthers and anti-vaxxers, but you don't honestly believe they exist. They're like Santa, or happiness.
“...I actually think that's a very dangerous opinion to hold, let alone spread. There's literally no evidence or science behind it, whatsoever.”
“Ah, you know science isn't always right? These scientists theenk something and then, a few years later, eets replaced by a new thing”
“Yes, but it's always replaced with more science...not just a wild, mental guess”
I don't remember exactly what he said after this, but  I recall it being stupid. Something to the effect of “oh yeah? Then why do we have less snow now?”
I decided, at that point, just to drop it and be angry.
We talked a short while longer, before he vanished back into the common room to study for the university course he was undertaking while living here, which was also weird. Psychology, if you're interested, because of course it was. I have know idea what kind inperceptible mentalist lure has lodged itself at the heart of that subject, but, my god, it is there.
I bibbled a while longer, before sauntering down to finally use the shit, hostel kitchen to make some sandwiches; both for tomorrow's trip and tonight's dinner.
The climate change denier was in the kitchen, talking to some girl wearing a rough, loose fitting jumper, with her hair pinned up in neat dreadlocks.
“Oh, wow.” I thought to myself. The conversation I'm walking into is going to be fucking ridiculous.
“...You know why you're not supposed to eat fruit after a meal?” the man, let's call him Mental Andrei, said.
“Yeah, of course...” the girl replied, seemingly trying to make herself seem knowledgeable about a subject which was categorically mental and had no underpinning in facts.
“Because” Andrei continued “the food is already in your intestines and so the fruit goes straight through the stomach and go to the other food and it ferments and makes you feel sick. Maybe even make you vomit!”
I wanted so badly to tell him that what he said was fundamentally ridiculous; that a) food does not move from the stomach to intestine immediately after you eat it, that b) adding more food afterwards doesn't immediately mean that that food bypasses the stomach, like there's a big open plug-hole going straight through to your colon, which slowly closes again several hours after a meal and most crucially c) that humans have been eating and drinking fermented fruits for probably thousands of years, however, I kept tight-lipped, reasoning that to correct them would at best be a waste of breath and at worst, be an inescapable portal into their conversation.
I set about making my sandwiches, which were awful. Normally, I'd do a long description about how they were like someone throwing up into my nose and me snorting it into the back of my throat then swishing it around my mouth and that's what they tasted like, but because I'm trying to be brief today, I will simply say eating these sandwiches was like being kicked in the mouth by a shoe made of rotten meat. It was a sad, dry, gristly affair and I did not like it. Good thing I had just made four of them for tomorrow.
I then turned in to bed, eager to sleep, which which I did, after tossing and turning for a while, for at least an hour or so, before some absolute thundering prick decided the following things constituted acceptable behaviour; checking in at 3am; having a tour of the room and its amenities by the receptionist at this time; switching the room's lights on while he put took his stuff in; loudly and clumsily putting all his clothes away on /hangers/, directly next to the bed of someone, whom, for all intents and purposes, he could have happily assumed was still asleep; leaving the room, lights still on to have a shower, in the bathroom located directly through the wobbly cardboard wall from my bed and finally, coming back to bed to sit up, lights still on for a good hour or so afterwards, loudly coughing, turning the pages of his book and chuckling to himself.
It was a good thing I didn't have anything strenuous to do the next day.
...Oh, wait.
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aaronshunga-blog · 7 years ago
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Q and A with TOMMI MUSTURI
Recently following my trip to Europe, I collected a few comic books from artists in various countries. Mr. Tommi Musturi operates out of Finland, and has published a weird, whimsical series of wordless comics featuring a ghostly vaguely homer simpson-esque character and his adventures known as “Samuel.” This is the 2nd installment, and I decided to correspond via email a Q and A. He responded with some very thoughtful answers and I’m happy to share them with you here.
-Aaron Shunga
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1. I grew up reading Moomintroll by Tove Janson as a kid. I notice a mysterious, fantastic quality in both her work and yours. What do you think the connection is here if any?
I suppose every Finnish kid has some connection with the Moomins. When I grew up I read the Moomin novels illustrated by Tove. My sister who is nine years younger grew up along the 90s Japanese animation and the generations after that were suddenly surrounded by all the merchandise, a new comic magazine drawn in the style of the 90s animation and so on.
It took until I was adult I really started to read the Moomin comics. They were originally made for adults and I remember trying to read them as a kid was kind of tricky. They were also all black and white which was of course lame in eyes of a 10-yo. The Moomin comic appeared (and appears) in several newspapers around Finland so it was familiar as well. However, an early 80s magazine version of the stories with covers taken from the late 70s puppet animation (I think it was made in Poland) existed for few years. I’ve been collecting those on my adult age. Didn’t know it existed back it was getting released.
What I still prefer are the actual novels. Beside being an artist, Tove was a great writer as well. The novels are more surreal and irrational as well. The atmosphere is really stong in all of them.
The comic version of Moomintroll is of course all great stuff as well. Notice that big part of Moomin comics were actually drawn by Tove’s brother Lars. I think for Tove’s career it was essential that she had such great people around her helping with things here and there. In the end she wanted to be a painter, not a comic artist. That’s kind of sad though but maybe presents the times and the fact that comics were seen merely as ‘cartoons for kids’ or something immoral. There was indeed a nice recent exhibition of her paintings in Finland just couple of years ago. It was not that bad but I still prefer the writings, comic & illustration work she made.
Anyway, there’s a Moomin museum in my current hometown Tampere and they present quite a wide variety of original art as well. I must say it’s some of the best drawing work I’ve ever seen. I could watch those small detailed pieces again and again and I think most of the people who visit the place feel the same. It’s inspiring of course. Especially her use of light and shadow. Sometimes there are almost no outlines at all. The forms appear in depth.
So, I think Moomins somehow come in our 'mother’s milk’ over here. I can’t really say that they inspired me to do this or that. However, I see things I share with Tove – there is sort of melancholic level that’s always present there below the surface, the taste of life is something I also aim at (meaning I tend to go through a variety of emotions in my work), she respects nature as well and there’s this sort of simplicity in it all, though the content is kinda complex.
However, if you at some point try to draw the Moomintroll you’ll notice how damn difficult it is.
2. One drawing that stands out to me in the book is an old man with a word balloon full of gestural abstract ink brush strokes. I feel that this is an aesthetic choice others try to enforce upon you. What is your opinion on Jackson Pollock and Gary Panter?
That image was indeed based on an idea that some people tell their views too late. So I present Samuel as this old alcoholic guy without any friends shouting alone in his dirty apartment. There is no one to listen to what he says so the language might as well something abstract. He could basicly say anything, have any opinion and there is no effect to the world around him. What makes this merely meta notation on Samuel’s comics in general is the fact that Samuel has been a mute comic until now. So, this was the first time the guy spoke out. Of course, Samuel as a character does not want to end up like that so the image of the old guy is merely a possible future. I think Samuel in general is much stronger indeed. Though he does not speak (or have any expressions on his face) his acts are usually statements to the world around him.
I’ve actually drawn now another image where Samuel speaks. There’s a small ad I did for Kuti magazine (a free Finnish comics newspaper, with English subtitles so get it!) with Samuel standing on Trump’s cut-off head and speaking to the reader. So maybe he’ll speak from now on but only in advertisements. This’d be perfect 'sell-out’. We all love capitalism and will do anything for it, won’t we?
In this 2nd book ('Simply Samuel’ that is) I’ve pictured several moments of Samuel’s possible life. So along this 'image of him as old’ I’ve drawn him as semen, showing how her mother and father met, how he gets younger and goes back to his mother’s vagina etc. It’s sort of play with time which this 2nd book does a lot. Sometimes time goes backwards. I’m fooling with the reader as I like that kind of stuff as a reader as well. It keeps you awake.
What comes to Pollock and Panter. Well, good artists of course. I indeed did a study on Pollock in art school. That’s like 20 years ago. I like his works but it’s of course bit out-dated these days. I wouldn’t have wanted to know him as a person. What comes to Gary, he is of course been an inpiration for long time. I used to run the publishing house Huuda Huuda (we quite a year ago in December 2016) and we ended up releasing a book from Gary in Finnish. Or actually it was two books as we made this big-size doublebook (that one can read from both ends) with both Jimbo’s Inferno and Purgatory. This was quite a project indeed and took us +one year to produce. The first translator gave up with Purgatory but the 2nd (Teemu Manninen, a Finnish poet) made great job with it. I spent two months lettering it all by hand. It was one of the most painful lettering jobs I’ve ever done. I think there was a tear in my eye at some point. Anyway, the book turned out great and I think the version of Purgatory is still the only translation of it. I remember that Gary emailed me after the project something like “I thought you couldn’t do it” which was the best complement I could’ve got.
What I like in Gary’s work is that is sort of 'a mash-up’ of different styles. I think 'style’ is merely a capitalistic tool and if you’re doing art you should try to stay far from it or put it all through a mincer.
3.  Compared to your last book, there is much more violence and action. What led you to this decision? You have several scenes in which Samuel dies, via car crash or by fists.
In Samuel’s case it’s obvious that he can die whenever I want. I’ve always had this idea that the his novels are sort of 'longplays of a computer game’. So basicly he may die at any point and then I start from scratch in the next story. This is kind of reliefing thing for myself as an artist though I don’t really 'like’ to kill or torture him. It just happens. I like dark humour of course as that’s the key thing to stay sane 2017.
Anyway, I myself also noticed that this 2nd book of his is much more violent compared to the 1st one that’s overall mood was merely 'beautiful and melancholic’. I did not have any plans to do this so it all just happened. I’ve tried to analyze myself why it came out like this and the only thing I could think of is that it presents the vibes of the times. It is no secret I’ve felt utterly frustrated with what mankind is doing for the world that’s raising them. It think this frustration and pure anger somehow came visible in this new book. What comes to action, this 2nd book is more complex and has TWICE the amount of ideas in it compared to the 1st book. It’s more fragmented and complex in away as well. So, there’s more going on compared to the 1st book that was merely really calm in it’s storytelling. I might go back to that if I do a 3rd book.
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4.  There are instructional elements to your story, as if one were reading a manual on how to build a hobo guitar or bake artisinal bread. This reminds me of Chris Ware. What are your opinions on his work?
I’ve never read that much of Ware indeed I must say. I’ve got some 90s Acme magazines, some big Quimby-book and Jimmy Corrigan but I haven’t really read what he has done the past ten years. It’s good stuff of course but I think I respect him more because of his experiments with storytelling than because the actual content. He is one of the greatest contemporary comic artists of course, there’s no doubt. When it comes to his info comics I think I’ve seen this kind
stuff in early American comics & kids’ magazines. Silly Symphonies used to have the same kind of cut & paste parts. So I suppose his idea to use info comics came from there.
Anyway, in general I don’t read that much comics these days. I think most of comics are not very good indeed. I get couple of meters (in shelf-space) of comics every year that I try to go through though. However, if I had to choose in-between of a comic or a novel I’d choose the latter. Literature is inspiring. If there are maybe tens of important comic books ever made, in literature there are thousands.
Anyway, going back to my own drawing… when I was a teen I think I aimed to simplify what I did on paper. I liked Didier Comés and Charles Burns for example, both having very clear images. We had a really good comic store in Tampere during early 90s, with a mailorder of course (I lived on the countryside with my parents back then) so I bought a lot of stuff that FB and D&Q put out, along with lots of material from France and Belgium (like Freon & Amok releases, some Atak’s early stuff, Reprodukt’s releases etc). Anyway, when I was around 18-yo my drawings were very close to what my graphic novel The Book of Hope looks like – very clear line, simplified colours and so on. When I went to art school I indeed tried to 'destroy’ this style that I was already bored with. So I started to experiment with lots of different styles, equipment, techniques and sizes and even went to something that was more realistic. When I used these maybe more realistic styles with comics they never really worked that well. At some points (after few years and lots of work made) I came to a conclusion that in comic narration the art should be somehow simplified – it’s kind of unseperataple part of the comic storytelling. So, I went back to this simplified old style and started to work on The Book of Hope. Later I developed this mathematic thin & clear line for Samuel. Both of these works look very oldschool in a way. This is a trick of course as the content is much more complex than it appears. So, the reason I ended up in these styles was merely a result of experimenting and going through it all and process what I had done.
The info comics I’ve included in the recent Samuel book (there was some in the 1st book as well, originally published 2009) are actually inspired by a Finnish book from 1930s – Kodin taitosanakirja ('The Home Dictionary of Skills’). That’s a book that was sold even after wartime, there are tens of updated editions of it. The idea of this (thick!) book is simply: to tell how you should do things that are essential for life. So, basicly there are 'simple instructions’ on how to build a house (!), a boat, make porridge, rye bread and so on. It’s such a rich book so full of information that I keep on going back to it every now and then. Most of the things you wonder about can be found from it indeed. Anyway, what I like the most in this case is the basic idea of the book. That is what inspired me to add info comics in Samuel’s book as well. I didn’t want them to be just any funny informative comics but instructions that give value for life. First there was an idea to make a seperate big book with only these instructions but in the end I thought it might work better if I mix them with illustrations and more normal comics. In general I like diy-culture, repairing broken stuff and so on. It’s a view on life in all: you can do most of it by yourself. That’s could also be a motto for Samuel.
4.  I notice in general the very clean, almost vector like aesthetic. Do you find yourself at peace with technology?
I did live pretty much nerdish childhood; Got my first computer (Commodore 64) when I was 9-yo, collected lots of different things etc. Anyway, I gave up playing games quite early and got involved with sub culture called 'demoscene’. It’s sort of audivisual culture where people create things together in small 'groups’. I ended up making graphics while some others in our group (that’s called 'Extend’ and it still exists) made musich and code. So I basicly learnt to draw on computer (pixel by pixle back then, with a joystick, it was mid-80s) before on paper. My relationship with computers and technology is kind of natural I think. For art it’s one tool next to a brush, lightbox, canvas etc. However, I prefer working on paper most of my time. Never owned a tablet or even tried one. The basic advice ’d be that one should always know what he or she is about to do when turning on the computer. You can easily see it in art if somebody is just trying out things in Photoshop without much knowing where to aim at. Working on paper means you do more mistakes and mistakes are indeed the key thing to learn something new. You should look at the mistake and think how you could use it. When drawing straight on computer people can try to get 'the perfect line’ as long as they want – even a crappy artist can aim at something out of his or hers artistic cababilities and reach it. However, the bad thing with this is that it is usually not his or hers image that was the target but an idea of something someone had made – a specific technique or some image from subconscious. I mean: if you’re not aware of what you’re doing, this all usually leads to the actual result that they had in mind. With my own work I like to change the plan on the way all the time so the result is more an individual than the plan. I think it’s better to learn to live with the mistakes than trying to avoid them.
With Samuel and The Book of Hope I did all the colouring on computer. But for example in Samuel you can see 'a shadow’ layer on all the colours. This shadow was indeed as well done on paper so I basicly have always two originals for each Samuel page. The originals of the shadows look often like childish Sin City. In both books the colouring is bright and simple, kind of 'dead’ as well. In Samuel’s case the colours are important part of the actual storytelling. It’s really veeery slow process indeed and I don’t know why I do it like I do it. Well, maybe it’s ok not to reason everything.
5.  There is a scene when Samuel enters a cave, and a panorama from above at three quarter degrees reveals a dungeon full of peril. Is this a reference to videogames, of the fantasy RPG genre? Do you think videogames influence your work?
As told before, there has been sort of idea of Samuel’s life 'as a game’ but that’s pretty much it. I stopped playing computer & video games early 90s to focus on doing stuff with the machines. I was also aware I could easily develope an addiction with games so it was better to focus on something else. Anyway, I still go back to that idea of a game every now and then when starting a new Samuel episode. It’s kind of liberating as 'with the new life’ you can start everything from the beginning. This doesn’t apply for OUR real lives of course, so I’m on a bit thin ice here.
This specific spread in the recent Samuel book was intended to be 'a labyrinth of daily routines’. The whole episode is kind of melancholic, Samuel is not doing much, just wandering around, throwing some stones, collecting fruits. On top of a hill he finds this cave and goes in just to find a labyrinth full of dangers, requirements, responsibilities, pressure etc. He manages to get through it (with minor damage) and gets out to find this paradise like environment again. I suppose this is a good example on how I use symbolism in Samuel’s stories and in all my comics indeed. The simple idea of this piece is of course that sometimes our lives are struggled (that’s part of a life, probable) and once you get through the struggles you will find something better. Very simple, spiced with small nuances in action.
What comes to games, I do actually like to play in general. I did sports for fun when I was a kid and teen. Started to play street basketball again couple of years ago… that’s more for fun as well. Anyway, we’ve tried some oldschool stuff recently. Indeed we made our own playing card game with my fiancee Tiina. It’s called 'Little Red Ridinghood’ and it’s indeed one of the best 2-player card games (with the normal pack) I’ve played. Suppose we should spread it around at some point. A year ago we indeed started to play the original Dungeons & Dragons again (after +20 years) which is kind of entertaining and educating because the world around the characters is so strong and evil one can die basicly any moment. I haven’t (yet) found much inspiration for my comics in it though. During summer we usually take some dices along when going in the forest or on the lake, play some Yatzy or stuff. I like the simplicity in that. Also playing Othello or Go with stones. Anyway, I never even tried PS or Xbox or something recent. Don’t have a smart phone either. There’s some lousy golf game in my crappy phone. It’s kind of entertaining though. What I like in “playing” in general is that it still very much the same experience as when you were a kid. So, I think all the adults should play all the time indeed. That’d make the world much better place already.
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quadrophenicc · 7 years ago
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Alice Glass and Lydia Lunch on Why Pleasure is the Ultimate Feminist Rebellion            
Alice Glass ran away from home for the first time when she was 14 years old. She moved into a dilapidated house in downtown Toronto, split the rent with 20 other teenagers, and, one year later, ran into Ethan Kath high out of her mind in the streets. The two went on to form Crystal Castles, the witchy, bleakly aggressive electronic Toronto outfit that came to define a certain sound of the mid-aughts. The band’s front woman, she was so much more than just a figurehead—she was a magnetic force to be reckoned with. Crystal Castles toured for six years straight, and in October of 2014, she broke out on her own. Now Glass is preparing to release her debut solo album. The new offering is dark—she has compared its sound to “kittens eating their hoarding owners after they die”—and its first single, “Stillbirth,” is an anthem for domestic violence survivors, a screaming, visceral cry. This music is personal—her most intimate offering yet—representing a move toward a style that reaches outside electronica. Lydia Lunch, the legendary No Wave poet, writer, speaker, and musician, called Glass from her home in Park Slope. The two spoke about crawling out of bedroom windows, how the nuclear family is the ultimate fascist society, and just how art has saved them, time and again.  
Alice Glass—Thanks so much for agreeing to talk with me, Lydia! This is an honor.
Lydia Lunch—I wish I was out in L.A. driving around with you through Echo Park right now, but we’ll have to do this on the psychic and verbal plane for now.
Alice—I’d like to imagine that. I can’t drive, so I’m going to imagine you driving.
Lydia—I was reading up on you, and it seems that we’ve had a quite similar background as teenage runaways and upstarts. We knew what we had to do.
Alice—I moved [away] from home when I was about 15. I just couldn’t live there anymore and the community I was in, it just seemed like the natural thing to do.
Lydia—Yeah, the microcosm of a fascist society: the nuclear family. Get the fuck out! I ran away for the first time when I was about 13. I snuck out my basement window. I came to New York and I went, “Oh my God, I know what I might possibly have to do and I’m going to go find some money so I don’t have to be forced into that.” So, I went back and got money. I lied about my age and got a job as a maid in a hotel, which was quite convenient if you like to steal and fuck the engineers, which I did. You have to do what you have to do, which is not only escape but create.
Alice—I remember sneaking out a window as well, but we lived in a Victorian house so my room was on the third floor. It was really difficult; I had hoses connected to all the nooks and crevices. It’s pretty fucking dangerous to think about now, but I felt pretty good about it then.
Lydia—I just went back to my hometown for the first time in 30 years and toured a lot of my old stomping grounds. I grew up in a black ghetto in Rochester, New York, and I kind of traced some of the paths of memorable, horrific moments. I had my first storytelling experiences under someone’s shotgun to my head—paid storytelling at 13. I think that set me on my path.
Alice—It’s weird, the only time that I can really get nostalgic is seeing the alley that my friends and I used to hang out in. It’s always used in movie sets, because it’s cheaper to film in Canada, but they to try and make it look like New York. They always use the exact same alley.
Lydia—When did you start writing, Alice?
Alice—I always kept journals and wrote little bits of poetry. When I was a kid, my parents worked in the city and I was left to my own devices a lot, so I’d just wander around singing melodies. I was in the school choir—I went to Catholic school.
Lydia—Me too! Look at how much good that did us. The devil goes to Catholic school.
Alice—[Laughing.] Yeah, my grandparents were definitely really religious, and my grandmother gave me a lot of Catholic guilt, even when I was going to church.
Lydia—I’ve never had a moment of guilt in my life. My father was a door-to-door Bible salesman at one point and, trust me, he was not at all religious. He was just trying to get into women’s houses. At nine, I was reading this really beautiful, highly illustrated, full-color 10-pound bible, and that’s when I just said, “God is a Marvel comic.” I didn’t have the God-haul that some people have.
Alice—Yeah. When I was nine years old I had a lot of friends that were boys, and I’d make up stories for us to play that involved being Power Rangers or whatever. One of the most prominent Catholic school stay-at-home moms started a rumor that I was actually friends with them because I was giving them hand jobs. I had no idea what that was!
Lydia—You know, I don’t have a lot of the normal, what I consider “cancer-causing” emotions, and I think it’s because, unlike a lot of traumatized people, I never turned the knife inward. I turned it outward. I started writing really violent poetry and I never felt any guilt. There were a lot of emotions, because I came out of such hatred and anger. But I flat-lined and built emotion. The stuff I do is very heavy and aggressive, and people think it’s negative, but I have so much empathy. I’m angry at the fucking world, but I’m not angry with anybody specifically.
Alice—I definitely can relate to that sentiment. I think that trying to channel that energy through art and performance and turning that anger into something creative and positive saved my life. I was someone that did internalize the events that happened to me, and I had a really hard time overcoming depression and feelings of worthlessness. I self-harmed from a really young age thinking it was something that I needed to do. [Music] felt like a relief, like I finally had control over myself. That’s something that I’ve been able to get now creatively.
Lydia—Because all of those emotions are things that people put upon you, they’re not how you ever were. I realized at a pretty early age that whatever the individual circumstances of our traumas were, I should never feel that my experience is unique. I felt that they were universal traumas for women, children, and the nuclear family—I had to come out and tell them. I’m trying to speak for and about those that have a mouth but don’t know how to scream yet or can’t find the words. That’s why so many sensitive, weird, outside “freaks”—and I say that with the highest of compliments—come to both of us. They need the mouth that can scream, that can whisper, that can sing, that can detail and find a way to express the existential horror of existence. Fuck you if you think I’m going to hate shit just because you made me hate you. Oh no, I’m very rebellious. It’s the individual duty as a rebel who will not be forced into the cycle of abuse to find, like what you do in music, beauty through the horror.
Surviving and existing a lot of the time is like a ‘fuck you’ to all the energy that’s put into trying to destroy us.
Alice—Yes, wow. I mean that’s my goal. Music is cathartic and I do feel like it’s something that I’m still kind of dealing with. I’ve only been able to get out and realize it now, because I was taking so many things internally and putting the guilt and blame on myself. There are things I’m doing on this new record that I would never have felt confident enough to do before. It’s very emotional music. There’s a personal message behind every song, but what I’m singing about is more than just personal. These past couple years have just been about recognizing that—I think that most people are fundamentally good—but that there are just people out there that take advantage of the optimism that others have for life.
Lydia—Well, there’s also a magnetism to victimology. I guess that’s why I became a predator at a very early age. I used sex as—I wouldn’t necessarily say a weapon—but kind of as a battery charger, and I was always the predator, because I needed an accelerated state of existence.
Alice—I love that. I do think I can relate to that. I think that finding other women in the punk scene that share that kind of sentiment is important, and I really don’t think that you can be punk without being a feminist and without being empathetic towards all walks of life. It’s kind of a little bit like being a hippie but being more aggressive instead of being passive. All of my female friends felt the same way—banding together is kind of what propelled me to not give in and get had, at least not immediately.
Lydia—I came up in a very different time. The late 70s. The scene that you came out of had a much more—or tried to have a much more—positive community spirit. There was a huge community of various types of artists, musicians, photographers, filmmakers, etc., but we were highly negative in the sense that we were completely disappointed by the failure of the 60s. Some of the biggest influences on my reactionary behavior were the failure of the Summer of Love bookended by the summer of hate by Charles Manson—very impressive—the Vietnam War, Kennedy’s assassination, and Kent State. These were things that really defined that attitude of my generation to come out and make music that was so incredibly violent. As opposed to, I’m not going to say punk rock, because I’m No Wave—No Wave, to me, means not audience friendly. I always felt outside of every collective I was in. Although I’ve collaborated with a lot of people, I’ve always felt kind of outside it.
Alice—I definitely romanticize the scene you came up in, the late 70s and early 80s, because it did feel more individual-based. By my time, it’s kind of like you have a sincere idea of something that can be razor sharp, and then after a while it trickles down and it turns into something that doesn’t even resemble the original. The climate that I was in was completely male-driven, almost like sports or something, where all the local men could sort of come together in the community. I wasn’t so much part of a scene as I was around one.
Lydia—Exactly. That’s what was so interesting about No Wave: there were so many women in bands, doing films, doing photography, doing art, and it wasn’t so much of an issue at that point. It wasn’t a gender issue. We were in a city that was bankrupt, that looked like Beirut on the Hudson, which was so criminal in all aspects, from the government, to the police, to the purposeful burnout of the Lower East Side and the Bronx. Gender was the least of our issues and it wasn’t such a big deal at that point.
Alice—It seemed like, growing up, that women’s liberation wasn’t so much of an issue. It wasn’t something that was really talked about, it was just kind of assumed, but to a dangerous degree where I was idealistic about people that I was surrounding myself with. Me and my friends were all 14 or 15 going to shows, and it was kind of a way for men in their 40s to prey on that idealism. There is one band that’s been [playing] since the 80s, and in Toronto you had to give respect to them even though they fucking suck. The lead singer guy was in his 40s and would prey on 14-year-old girls—sleep with them in a bathroom at an all-ages punk show. He just kept getting away with it. That was the climate.
I really don’t think that you can be punk without being a feminist and without being empathetic towards all walks of life.
Lydia—I was trying to readdress the imbalance of sexual power when I was 13 to probably 24. It felt like it was my duty to go out and be the predator. I felt that I was not just avenging myself, but kind of avenging women in general.  I never had any personal animosity against the individual male. My animosity has always been against the greater cabal of the “cock-ocracy” and the kleptocracy and the patriarchy. The problem with society is that it’s not about the rights of the individual, which is what it was supposed to be. It’s not even about the rights of the collective or the majority. It’s about the wants, the greed, the desires of the minority, which is 1 percent of the population. What the fuck is the solution? I don’t have it. But in the meantime, I’m going to continue to fucking complain about it, because all I can do is try and articulate the frustrations and point out that in the last election there was no fucking option. Because they threw the only option under the bus.
Alice—Bernie.
Lydia—Bernie Sanders. The last person I voted for was Larry Flynt because, actually, not only does he believe in freedom and liberty for all, but he actually pays to have political sex scandals in the public eye. Yeah, “Hustler” magazine. Chew on that one for a while.
Alice—It’s great to talk to someone who I feel has a great grasp on the situation, more than anyone else that I’ve really talked to. I went to the Women’s March in Los Angeles, and it was really powerful to see so many people take a stance for humanity and everything, but it’s like, what do we do next?
Lydia—I think every woman needs to know self-defense and needs to be mentally armed if not physically armed. You need to at least feel safe in your own home. When I moved to New Orleans from New York in 1990, 17 cops were arrested. I decided to take gun training because I wasn’t going to be the victim of a fucking road cop. So now I have more gun training than the New York City police force. It’s always been “Apocalypse Now” for me, that’s the state of mind I live in. Numbers mean nothing: one death may be a tragedy, but one million is a fucking statistic—you can’t comprehend it. You can’t comprehend three quarters of a million Iraqis dead. Agent Orange, for what? Because our pawn in the game decided not to fucking play by the rules anymore. Happens over and over again. Welcome to America, asshole. Oh yeah, we’re supposed to be talking about your new album!
I was trying to readdress the imbalance of sexual power when I was 13 to probably 24. It felt like it was my duty to go out and be the predator.
Alice—[Laughing.] Whatever. I mean, music is kind of a lot less interesting to talk about right now.
Lydia—Well no, because it’s what saves you. It’s the only way we have to rebel, with music, art, literature, spoken word. Even at my most quote-unquote negative, I still think there is beauty in the “brutarian” poetry. They will not steal my sense of wonder; they will not kill my love of hedonistic pleasure. I always close my solo shows with this: Pleasure is the ultimate rebellion. The first thing they steal from us as women is pleasure at the brink of the apocalypse, pleasure at the mouth of the volcano. Pleasure. And that’s why we create.
Alice—As an individual, I think that just surviving and existing a lot of the time is like a “fuck you” to all the energy that’s put into trying to destroy us.
Lydia—And let’s not only say “Fuck you, and fuck you again,” but, “Hey, you know what? I’m gonna fuck you and I’m gonna like it. There you go motherfucker, how ’bout that?” Can I get an oh yeah, oh yeah?
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thecoroutfitters · 7 years ago
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Written by Guest Contributor on The Prepper Journal.
Editors Note: A guest contribution from Tomas Zegarra to The Prepper Journal.  As always, if you have information for Preppers that you would like to share and possibly receive a $25 cash award like Tomas and be entered into the Prepper Writing Contest AND have a chance to win one of three Amazon Gift Cards  with the top prize being a $300 card to purchase your own prepping supplies, enter today.
Growing up, I was surrounded by civilization on all fronts, so much so in fact that even nature at times seemed artificial. A poet would lament about feeling enclosed by the skyscrapers and endless rows of homes that always seemed to be expanding. I couldn’t deny the growing feeling that I needed to get out—needed to expend my energy where there were no mountains of brick, iron, and steel everywhere I went.
   I saw more vineyards, skyscrapers, and money flowing around than most people saw in their lifetime. Sure, some of my friends hunted or shot birds and small game but nothing larger than themselves. I suppose they felt a sense of pride hunting in a state with strict laws on gun handling of any sort.
Politics and opinion aside, I never felt the intense need to take up hunting but nor was I against it. It’s so easy nowadays to take something at face value and believe you know everything about it, which is what I did with hunting. I noticed my friends posting pictures of their day’s work on social media, maybe gave them a like or two, and went on with my day.
Introversion was my middle name for a majority of my teenage years, yet I longed to take up the adventures that I saw my friends embarking on—to different counties with more open land, nearby states, and far away countries.
So that’s what I did.
“Have you ever shot guns?” my college roommate asks.
“No,” I reply.
“Well let’s go try them,” he grins.
   I fired my first set of guns within two weeks of arriving in a state with open pastures and ranges as large as the towns and cities I was from. Imagine that, a big city kid getting a thrill out of firearms. Of course, I was well aware of gun safety far in advance, which impressed my new friends. Funny how that works—know more about firearm safety than the gun itself.
My hunting license requires an online course. It’s pretty informative so far. I wish more people had access to this without the fee. Gun safety, best practices, etc. I think I’ve learned more about hunting in two weeks than I have heard about it from friends and family.
In this state, the bigger game is the ultimate goal—deer, elk, and pronghorn. Words such as optics, gear, scopes, rangefinders, and open season began flooding my ears. It was equivalent to an adrenaline rush—I’m suddenly exposed to many concepts I was vaguely familiar with but never considered until now.
Needless to say, hunting is a lifestyle and requires far more preparation on part of the mind and body than most people would anticipate.
   When hunting season begins this fall, I’ll be going on my first hunting trip, obviously with people more experienced than me.  I don’t know what I should be feeling; perhaps I’m waiting until a couple of days before an actual trip before I consider what I am about to do. Before I can even get to the hunting stage, I have to be in the right mindset. I know I’ll have to kill an animal to feed myself. There isn’t a McDonald’s or Taco Bell in mother nature’s domain.
My first backpacking experience was in the Grand Canyon for five days, so I consider myself well prepared for the state’s back country. The gear, the clothing, the workouts, it was all pretty easy in my opinion.
However, I consider myself a little unprepared for the mental game.
What is the mental game? Hunting goes far beyond than just killing an animal with a bullet or two.
I don’t anticipate I’ll feel the greatest pleasure in the world taking the life of a wild animal. If anything it will be a fleeting thought, something to take into consideration before I pull the trigger. Shielding myself from reality won’t help either.
     We hunt to survive. Our ancestors hunted to survive. Before mass farming and the industrialization of food, humans hunted to survive. The industry wasn’t even introduced until around three hundred years ago out of the thousands of years humans have existed.
Kill or be killed. That sentiment isn’t so much prevalent now, but as someone who is striving to balance their introversion; I feel there are adventures and excursions, the more I experience life in the fullest sense.
I never want to say that the only thing I can do is just this one thing. I want to be able to tell people I experienced hunting, camping, hiking, and exploring the world outside the confines of my home.
There’s no telling what I’ll encounter in the wildlands. Regardless of whether I bring anything home, I think it will be important to note that I at least tried hunting. I’d always viewed hunting (even before I knew more about its specifics) as an activity that required more finesse and focus than modern media gave it credit for.
Aside from all the necessary cold weather gear, how else can I possibly prepare? I’ve compared the feeling to skydiving, something else I’ve also never done. Not that I would fear engaging in hunting or skydiving, but I feel my stomach begin to churn when I think about the encroaching day when I will embark on that adventure.
It’s not an “I’m going to vomit” type of feeling, but sheer nervousness. The hunt can go a variety of ways but chances are it will proceed as normal.
I have a feeling that my first hunting experience will be similar and different to how I envisioned it here. Regardless, I will jump at most chances to try something new, anything to either expands my views or introduces me to a new way of life.
In just these few short weeks since I’ve decided to take up hunting, I’ve come to understand piece by piece what hunting means to the avid hunter. It’s a way to connect with roots and ancestors long past. Sure, the prepping and process may be different, however the mental game has changed very little.
The post Mindset for a First Hunt appeared first on The Prepper Journal.
from The Prepper Journal Don't forget to visit the store and pick up some gear at The COR Outfitters. How prepared are you for emergencies? #SurvivalFirestarter #SurvivalBugOutBackpack #PrepperSurvivalPack #SHTFGear #SHTFBag
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redorblue · 7 years ago
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Book 20 /2017 - Black Swan Green by David Mitchell
I’ve read this book before, a few years back, and I remember it being my least favourite book by my absolute favourite author in the world. I still liked it, but I didn’t instantly adore it like I do every book of his I get my hands on. Now that I’ve read it again, I can finally remedy what must have been a grave misjudgment of mine, and give it the appreciation it deserves. Give him at least a tiny bit of the appreciation he deserves. Really, there’s many authors I like, some I love, but only him that I would camp on a park bench for when a new book comes out. Which isn’t necessary, because he’s not that famous and you’d still get a copy a few days after release, but it’s the intention that counts.
So, Black Swan Green. The story covers 13 months in the life of a 13-year-old boy named Jason Taylor, who lives in an English backwater village some time in the 1980ies. His family is breaking apart, he’s a clandestine poet terrified of being exposed, he has a stammer, and he’s sinking on the popularity ladder, which makes school unpleasant on good days. His life, and his problems, are really pretty common, and the book would probably be a rather boring read - if it wasn’t David Mitchell who wrote it. He turns it into an intimate study of life as an adolescent, of family dynamics, of conflict, and of the maze that is the social hierarchy of teenagers. I’ve read somewhere that Black Swan Green has some autobiographical influences, and I have no idea how far it goes, but it explains the feeling of authenticity and understanding for teenage struggles I got from the book. At some points I thought that Jason’s inner monologue was rather elaborate for a 13-year-old, but it’s been a while since I was thirteen, so I can’t compare, and anyway I wouldn’t want to miss any of the insightful comments he makes about the world, so I won’t complain.
This might definitely will sound cheesy, but every time I open a David Mitchell book and read a few lines I feel at home and understood immediately. It doesn’t even matter which story I picked because his writing is just so beautiful: just the right amount of flowery language and imagery, minimalist but accurate descriptions of people and places, attention for small details, some killer opening and closing lines, some wisdom every now and then... And that man has some serious characterisation skills. Every single protagonist/POV and the vast majority of secondary or even tertiary characters (believe me, I’ve read them all several times) has his or her own distinct voice, habits, speech patterns that fits their personality, background, education etc. You hear a lot about a good author having a distinct voice, or style, but in David Mitchell’s case it would be impossible to determine one - not because he’s bad (obviously not in my opinion, but he’s won prizes, so it can’t just be me) but because he has too many. As many as he has characters, to be precise. He’s a chameleon. His most famous book - Cloud Atlas - is a good example for that: it consists of six separate parts, and each is written in a distinct form and style, including changes to vocabulary, ortography and grammar, while staying readable. There’s a diary by a 19th century lawyer from the US, a series of letters by a British down-on-his-luck composer, a crime story, an old man dictating a  screenplay about his life, an interview with a clone at a time when corporate monopolies and capitalism have reached their terrifying culmination, and an oral tale told after the collapse of modern civilization. In terms of language, especially the last two sections are fascinating because he invents two entirely new dialects - one stuffed with brand names replacing the names of objects, and the other kinda... degenerated, for lack of a better word. I have only very faint ideas about linguistics, but it seems consistent and complex enough to me, and honestly it took me a while to figure both out because he just throws you into his scenarios without the least bit of open explanation and very few exposition by characters, and I just love that.
But I’m digressing, back to Black Swan Green. The language there seems normal enough to me, which doesn’t say much because I’m not that familiar with British/English colloquialisms, but his habit of suddenly opening a window into his characters’ lives and leaving it to his readers to figure out the who’s and when’s and why’s etc. - that has David Mitchell written all over it. It sometimes feels like turning on the television just when the movie gets good: you know you’ve missed a big part of the story that you have to figure out on your own while on screen the character is making a crucial decision, having an action scene, feeling the emotional impact of some development etc. There’s a lot of worldbuilding, or simply world, concentrated into his books. Like you know that Jason’s life goes on beyond the glimpses we get into each month of his life (13 chapters, 13 months - I love those small delicacies), but we get just enough information to be able to (and want to) figure out the rest for ourselves.
And the endings are normally like that, too - the book just ends, not on a particularly mean cliffhanger, but not with a glittery happy ending where everyone’s issues are resolved either. Black Swan Green is nice in that respect, it leaves you with the impression that everything will turn out alright although you’re not explicitly told how, but there’s definitely worse ones that leave you desperately turning the last pages with the ads, looking for one more sentence that makes the ending less ambiguous. And then there’s those books where the main character dies, just like that. Come to think of it, those may actually be the ones that are easiest to sleep after, because at least you know. And while I would like to kill him just a little bit every time that happens, I’m also kinda grateful - it’s uncommon, it’s realistic and consistent with the general nature of his stories, and it really makes you think. Sometimes I still find myself awake at night, wondering about how the main character of my absolute favourite The Bone Clocks was doing after the book left her - and that book was released in 2014. Or about how all of his books fit together chonologically, because they’re all part of a greater narrative and tell stories of certain places and times in one big universe where characters’ paths can intersect and influence each other (which makes it really rewarding to reread, I always find some connections that I hadn’t noticed before or forgotten about).
Aaand look at that, I’m digressing again. I can’t stay consistend when I talk about David Mitchell or any of his books, I automatically slip into gushing mode. Better to give up trying to stay on track entirely, then. So, I thik the reason why I liked Black Swan Green least of all his books was that it operates on a smaller scale than most of the others, with a half-exception of Number9Dream. It’s not as grand as the others, and it took me a while - and a second time through - to appreciate the amount of detail with which he describes the life of this ordinary boy in an ordinary village, with an ordinary family and an ordinary future. But I’m glad that I gave it another try because the way he describes this small cosmos is so lovely and affectionate and heartbreaking in all its everyday drama that it’s really moving, and not as heavy as some of his other novels. And the writing... I need to give just one example to end this:
“The world won’t leave things be. It’s always injecting endings into beginnings. Leaves tweezer themselves from these weeping willows. Leaves fall into the lake and dissolve into slime. Where’s the sense in that? Mum and Dad fell in love, had Julia, had me. They fall out of love, Julia moves off to Edinburgh, Mum to Cheltenham, and Dad to Oxford with Cynthia. The world never stops unmaking what the world never stops making. But who says the world has to make sense?”
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workrockin · 6 years ago
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Understanding MIMO
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I don't know about you but sometimes technology makes me feel stupid. Usually you'll find me in a cheerful mood happily trotting along somewhere in a grass field, but every once in a while, a heavy feeling takes hold and it makes me sit and reflect upon the choices that I have made, leading me up to the present point in my life. Anyone who knows me can testify that I'm not the one to waste a bright sunny day in useless contemplation. You can imagine then the force of this indescribable feeling that took a free spirited creature like myself, who would rather spend its time chasing the wind, to chain itself and think. Imagine that. Sit and think on a bright sunny day! But one must make best of ones circumstances.
The other day I was reading about MIMO. Just scrolling through a Wikipedia article. I can't say how I got on to it. I don't remember what prompted me to open the page. All I remember is that it was there. It was interesting read. Multi this. Many that. etc etc.
I'm not all that much into reading, as you probably would have guessed. It does not fit my character, you see. I'm someone who prefers activity, due to my natural outgoing, adventurous nature. I've learnt though my own experience and through the experience of my ancestors that its of no use fighting your own nature. It is a battle that you can't win.
As you can understand therefore, I rarely read. Unless it is to pass time at work. Even then I prefer to study the habits and inclinations of cats on various online encyclopedias. Especially preferring vivid portraits on imagur and short documentaries on youtube that aid in understanding to big walls of text.
But something drew me to that particular subject that day. I don't know what it was. I'm not a painter who can describe his feelings through his art. Nor am I a poet who can write a song about it. I'm unable to find the reason behind my decision to read about that particular subject of which I had no particular knowledge. Maybe it was fate. Maybe something else. All that matters now is that I read about MIMO. And today a similar feeling compels me to talk about it.
MheeeeeeMhawwwww
MIMO stands for Multipe Input and Multiple output. MIMO is applied to make a radio link more robust by increasing the number of transmitting and receiving antennas. The goal of MIMO is to increase the network robustness and capacity. MIMO takes several forms
In one kind of MIMO Multiple can antennas transmit among different paths. Multiple receivers can accept those signals. Each one on a different path. This is the basis of Beamforming. Not all of the receivers will receive the best signal so we must design a way for the receiver to determine the best signal. This is done with the help of precoding. For the purpose of this discussion we don't need to understand precoding.
In another type of MIMO instead of sending multiple signals you simply send one signal but split it into multiple streams. Each one of those streams are transmitted over a different antenna. To the receiver it looks like each one of these signals have arrived at a different channel and thus network capacity is increased....... At least in theory.
Finally there is Diveristy Coding. Diversity coding is best understood as spray and pray technique. In this type of MIMO a single stream is transmitted many times by multiple antennas hoping that at least one of them will arrive at their destination unharmed. Desperation is palpable in this one.
MU-MIMO is MIMO with multi user capabilities. In other words you can MIMO with several users at once.
Reading this post left me with several questions. After collecting my thoughts I shared them with one of my smarter friends to understand what he had to say about the subject. My mom used to tell me that it is always good to take advice from someone who is brainier and more knowledgeable than you are. Although you must trust in your own ability its never a bad idea to seek some guidance. Those who know me can tell you that I have always been an obedient child. It should come as no surprise then that I'd listen to her advice.
I took my queries to my friend and this is what he had to say. I paraphrase because I forgot to carry my notepad with me to jot down his wise words.
THUS HE BEGAN
Before we can understand MIMO we must understand wireless networks. A wireless network is a physical network with no wires. When a wireless communication channel is established between two devices it is equivalent to connecting the two devices with a physical wire.
Of course the appeal of wireless networks is that you don't have to invest in huge infrastructural projects to increase the connectivity in a region.
The downside is that since wireless signals can't be directed as well as wired signals there is a lot of signal loss. That leads to a degraded quality of service. Which leads to unsatisfied customers.
Therefore effort has to be spent to get wireless signal as close to the quality of wired signal as possible. If one has the inclination to study it can take an entire lifetime to understand the clever techniques invented to make this possible. Life is short. What we need know is a gist of the matter. Here it is:-
We want to efficiently utilize the communication channel. We do this by multiplexing. 
We want to make the networks more robust. We do this by adding redundant network stations.
MIMO is one such technique invented. However MIMO has several shortcomings.
It requires a dedicated hardware in base station and client machine. Existing machines will not work. 
It requires complex receiver hardware to assemble the signals.
It does not guarantee a better QOS or signal to noise ratio. MIMO in essence is simply a way of increasing the chance of getting a good quality signal by adopting a brute force approach.
The goal of MIMO is to increase total network throughput ( Individual speeds will not be increased, however more user will have access to a uniform speed ) . Bu then why do we need MIMO at all? There are alternatives where these goals can be achieved cheaply.
Most of the MIMO technology can be easily replicated using cheap inter-operable components available in the market right now. Especially in the home networking context.
In fact the principle behind MIMO is best realized when you set up cheap multiple access points rather than highly optimized individual devices. Quantity is greater than quality in network coverage. All the time.
Consider Beamforming. By definition beamforming is the technique of emitting same signals from different antennas in a way that they all add up to for the best signal at the receiver.
But this can be easily replicated by having multiple base stations each of them emitting a signal. All client device has to do is choose the best one?
"But its costly to set up multiple base stations you say?"
I ask different questions.
What is the cost of having multiple antennas on a single station and a receiver? Exactly how is a single station with multiple antennas cheaper from multiple stations with single antenna? What happens when the receiver is in motion?
In the last case we discover that beamforming actually reduces to the same old radio signals that we're used to. And we have spent all this money on equipment that only works when the client and the base station positions are well defined? Static, in other words. Really? Why not go with a Point to Point connection then? Nothing can beat that in terms of quality.
There is one very big advantage of multiple stations. It is redundancy. No single point of failure. That is something that is well worth the investment.
Next consider spatial multiplexing. Here you divide a single data channel into multiple channel streams to trick the receiver into believing that its getting data from multiple channels at a higher speed. It does increase the network capacity. But how many client devices can actually use this technology?
Let us assume that we actually get the client devices to work with this technology. What then? How should the application layer adapt to this change? How should we design our you tube app for example, when the last 30 min of a 90 min movie have arrived successfully but the stream transmitting the first 60 min is lost?
Whatever you gain on base station efficiency you loose at the client reception. As a user I feel no better or even worse as compared to old network.
Data integrity is just as valuable as data speed. I can understand a congested network giving me slower speeds. But I can't tolerate a fast network giving me data out of place. It may work slowly but it should always be right.
A well designed redundant network will always outperform an "intelligent" auto adjusting technology. Interference exists and we have means to work around it.
Like any breakthrough in communication technology to fully gain the advantages of MIMO we need compatible client as well as server station hardware. This means that we need to invest in new infrastructure. Do the gains provided by MIMO justify the investment? I'll leave that to you to decide.
With these parting notes my friend signed off. Having nothing further to add to the discussion I must take my leave as well. I hope that my ramblings have been of use to a few people who like me often find themselves at a loss in the ever changing, ever expanding , progressive world of communication technology. I'm lucky to have a friend who has a certain interest in these things. Though I can't for the life of me understand how any one can be bothered to read about electronics and radios when you can study cats instead. But no one can fight their nature, I suppose.
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nooneaskedme-but · 8 years ago
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Album Review - California (Deluxe) by blink-182
Alright guys, here’s the deal. I’ll to be skipping the whole pre-review rambling because there’s a lot to cover here. Just know that yes, I am reviewing California for a second time; there’s less hype and a lot less bias this time around, so I feel it’ll be a much more accurate review.
Anyway, let’s get to it! Track by track review of blink-182’s California! (Again!)
1. Cynical - Still to this day, this is easily one of my favorite tracks on California. I think what won me over the most was the aggression in this song. They really shake their ‘just another pop punk band’ image here with the fast paced drumming and the straight to the punch guitars combined with Matt’s shouting in the chorus. It’s a perfect way to start off such a different album and I love every bit of this song from start to finish. - 10/10
2. Bored to Death - Okay, I don’t care what anybody says. Putting aside how absolutely iconic this song is, Bored to Death is definitely one of the better put together tracks on California, and I’m counting both the standard and deluxe tracks. I mean yeah, the lyrics still don’t make a lot sense to me, but compared to the cheap and useless filler I’ve heard on the rest of the album these are relatively harmless. At least these can be open to some sort of interpretation. I really appreciate the darker feel here, and the bridge is easily my favorite of any blink song post-DeLonge. I just wish they would’ve stuck to this caliber with the rest of the album, and I really they would’ve left Matt alone in the chorus, especially live. That being said, this still remains a favorite and probably will even alongside future releases. - 8/10
3. She’s Out of Her Mind - Right off the bat, this was one of my favorites off the album. It still is, but now I think of this song more as a novelty. It’s simple, it’s catchy, but that’s really about it. The lyrics are juvenile and rather cliche, but I’d be lying if I said this song didn’t still excite me whenever I hear it. - 7/10
4. Los Angeles - Initially, I equated this song to garbage, a mainstream pop atrocity that not even Dark Lord Skiba himself could save. But, after a few thorough listens and seeing it live twice, I’m going a bit easier on this track. I mean, it’s still a pretty big thumbs down for me but it has its merits. For starters I can dig the fact that they experimented and deviated from the ‘old blink’ style they tried so hard for. Moreover, something about Mark Hoppus and the bridge of this song gets me every time. - 5/10
5. Sober - I honestly don’t understand why this track gets so much flack (heh, I’m a poet and I didn’t even know it). In my opinion it trumps a good portion of the rest of California by a long shot. It’s rather mellow and laid back, and again not nearly as try-hardy as some of its counterparts on the album. In fact, to me it does a good job of illustrating both the playful, happy-go-lucky and the frustrating, trying times of adolescence. Not to mention, this song got bonus points from me knowing the first verse was basically Matt’s autobiography. - 7/10
6. Built This Pool - I’m just going to say, I find this song way more amusing than I should. - 9/10
7. No Future - This is another track I enjoyed pretty thoroughly and still do despite countless plays. I adore everything about this song, in particular the way Matt makes his place in the chorus with the jolting “NO FUTURE!” and the intense buildup into Matt’s verse (which is to die for, says I) along with the novelty pop punk style it was crafted in (stop-and-go guitars, simple yet fulfilling drum fills, etc.). Speaking of drums, the way Travis closes this song out combined with the matching structure of the ‘na-na’s is nothing short of godlike. No Future will forever be a favorite of mine. - 10/10
8. Home Is Such a Lonely Place - You know, I despised this song when I first heard it; it was way too mopey and pseudo-deep for me to possibly get behind. And, to be honest, not a lot has changed in the way of that opinion. It’s so…mundane. I just, it drags the album down than anything else and it really doesn’t belong. - 4/10 
9. Kings of the Weekend - I can sum this song up in one word and one word only: excitement. Actually, this song is more like excitement with a side of FUCK YEAH!!. Aside from the opening track ‘Cynical’, this track hands down has the best instrumental on the album. The chorus errs more on the side of modern punk rock and it it sounds really well-done. Simple, but very well-done. Also, the opening drum line has to be some of the funkiest shit Travis has done in a blink-182 song. - 10/10
10. Teenage Satellites - *groan*…Ugh, this song nearly makes me sick at this point. It’s so adolescent it hurts. I can appreciate simple songs. I can appreciate youthful reminiscing (to an extent). But this song, this fucking song, this is where I draw the line. It’s a saccharine, adolescent mess of teenage cliches centered around an octave riff Mark strummed off the top of his head one day. I used to think this song was relatively decent but now I can’t help but cringe now whenever I listen to it. - 4/10
11. Left Alone - If I could put aside the cheap lyrics and the fact that this song is basically an Angels and Airwaves rip off, I feel like I’d enjoy it a lot more. I’ll admit, though, I am a sucker for the guitar lined throughout in the verses, and Matt’s vocals are pretty fierce when the chorus hits. - 6/10
12. Rabbit Hole -  Okay, hear me out here. This song gets criticized left and right for its overall simplicity and basic nature. While both of those claims are completely valid, I happen to think that’s what makes this song so endearing. A song like this is meant to be fun, something that’s easy to listen to while you’re fucking around with your friends or whoever else. Not every song has to be so complex or even a lyrical masterpiece. Sometimes, it’s enough for a song to just simply sound pleasant, and that’s definitely accomplished here. It’s energetic, it’s pop punk as fuck, it’s blink-182. - 8/10
13. San Diego - Out of all the songs on the standard release, I feel that this one has the most, for lack of a better word, substance. Never mind the fact that it’s one of the few that doesn’t sound like a poorly made b-side of Take Off Your Pants and Jacket, you can just feel the emotion oozing out of this song and it’s fucking great. In such a flawless and iconic chorus, Matt Skiba takes the lead and really proves what he can do for the band. Hats off to Skiba and another hats off to this amazing song. - 10/10
14. The Only Thing That Matters - I think this song has a cute nature about it, and I think it’s a very accurate clash of both older generation blink-182 and Alkaline Trio (you know, the band Matt Skiba fronted happily before Mark kidnapped him and held him hostage). However, the chorus is way too lacking for me. Like, I can get behind the lovey dovey message but it’s so basic in its presentation that I just can’t get past it. - 6/10
15. California - Give it another year, just one more year, and I guarantee you’ll see this song used in some sort of Disney promo if it hasn’t been already. As a song it isn’t terrible, just rather flat and a little lackluster. I can’t say I hate it, though, even if I do find spending all your time inside while the weather’s perfect a little bit strange (and possibly a little bit manic). Also, the ending’s pretty cool, so there’s that. - 7/10
16. Brohemian Rhapsody - Yeah, I’m still fucking miffed that this song is literally only 15 seconds long. Everything about it’s perfect: the buildup, format, the staggering hammer-ons that Matt somehow flawlessly pulls off despite that being the furthest thing from his style! It’s all there! But no, they wasted a perfectly good instrumental on a tired fucking one-liner that was barely even amusing. Oh well, it still sounded badass and was definitely a fun way to bring the album to an end. -10/10
DISC TWO
1. Parking Lot - Holy shit. This song, holy shit. Now this, this is how you make an entrance to an album. Originally I made mention of Mark’s verse throwing the song off, but after coming back to this song many times I can see that’s what makes this song work. As much as I appreciate the fact Matt upped the punk factor times ten (and that’s a fuck of a lot), I’m glad there’s some variation, that it’s not like that the entire way through. All around, this song is fucking wicked and easily one of the top three of the deluxe tracks. - 9/10
2. Misery - Things slow down quite a bit with this track, but it packs a punch nonetheless. I haven’t found myself coming back to this one as much but that doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s a really solid, really powerful song. I still swear that the way Matt shouts “I don’t need anyone!” in the chorus is what dreams are made out of. It also sounds like “I don’t eat anyone!”, but that’s besides the point. - 7/10
3. Good Old Days This is one song I find especially charming, due mainly to the early 2000s-esque dance chorus and the very eloquent use of synth throughout the entire song. However, the whole ‘I don’t wanna grow up!’ schtick is getting really fucking old. Now, I can understand wanting to feel young and to feel alive, but literally putting “and we’re not growing up” in a song is a tad bit sad to be honest. I fucking adore Mark Hoppus, but when he writes like that I just can’t take him seriously, and it lessens the quality of the song. Other than that, this track is pretty enjoyable and one I see myself coming back to in the future. - 7/10
4. Don’t Mean Anything - Ugh. U g h. Even tying this disaster of a song to blink-182 sullies their name. It’s just so bland and cookie-cutter and lacking any sort of effort or originality that it hurts. The only, and I mean the only points this song gets from me is Matt’s verse because he sings it really fucking well. Outside of that, this song needs to go back to the 2004 pop rock station they clearly ripped it from. - 4/10
5. Hey, I’m Sorry So, some time after the official release of California, this track was released as a Japanese bonus track. It took a few listens to really strike a chord with me, but now I can’t get enough of it. Also, I didn’t think I’d say this for a long time but I love Mark’s lyrical work here; it’s fucking stellar, as a matter of fact. This is another one of those experimental songs, but this one was definitely a success. I really dig the direction they went in with this one. - 9/10
6. Last Train Home - I was really glad to see they continued along that same vein of experimentation as heard in the previous track ‘Hey, I’m Sorry’. Initially, I cast this song off, thinking it wouldn’t pick up. But, it does. The song progresses slowly, and in a way that’s incredibly subtle. It’s very worth it if you can listen all the way through to the end. - 10/10
7. Wildfire - While I’m not exactly sure about Mark’s singing abilities here (in the chorus particularly), that doesn’t really concern me in this song, at least not as much as the fucking Xanax reference. Personally, I think this song is way too much fun to hate, and I know I am very much in the minority with that opinion. I mean, the classic blink-style riffs are all there alongside some gnarly Alkaline Trio influence, and it just has a very youthful aesthetic overall which I adore. I also admire how the song matures and progresses, starting off with Mark’s usual adolescent view of things and venturing into darker, more mature themes as Matt takes over. It gives the song another dimension, which I feel the rest of the album severely lacks. - 8/10
8. 6/8 - I’d argue that this is the absolute heaviest song blink-182′s released in the history of their career. Sure, the Self Titled album had a lot of experimentation and some heavier tracks, but there was nothing quite like this. This song’s a bit dreary, and it’s fucking rad. I won’t attack the fact that they named the it after the time signature for the drums, because honestly that’s just nitpicking (and I am not about that life…). But, I will claim that this would’ve been astronomically better had it been fronted by Matt. He has just the voice and singing capabilities to make this song as riveting and intense as it needs to be. Nonetheless, it’s still a badass track and a definite thumbs up from me. - 8/10
9. Long Lost Feeling - I feel like this song is more buildup than anything. It’s soothing, but it takes way too long to get to anything worth while. Mark also manages to make the first half as boring as he possibly can, so there’s that. If you can stay awake until you get to the second half of the song, it’s actually really pretty sounding and quite pleasant. You just have to get there. - 6/10
10.  Bottom of the Ocean - No. Nope. N o p e. Fuck this song. At this point there’s not a hint of soul to be found, not a fucking ounce of integrity. Usually I say every song has its merits, but nope. I hate to be that ‘that guy’, but they sold out with this song, point blank. I am so glad this abomination never touched the original release. As stated above, fuck this song. - 1/10
11. Can’t Get You More Pregnant - I’ve already discussed this song far too much for a joke track, so I’m just going to laugh at the fact that a scientist actually proved this idea wrong, stating you actually can get a girl ‘more’ pregnant. Ha ha ha. - 8/10
12. Bored to Death (Acoustic) - Originally, I was under the impression that this would be a brand new studio recording. But, instead, it’s audio ripped from a live recording and mastered in the studio. Was a I bit let down by that in the beginning? Maybe a tad. But, with the audience so haughtily cheering in the background and Matt’s lyric change to “Mark’s head”, I actually prefer this to a brand new stand alone recording. In doing it this way, they laid a lot heart on it and made it a perfect closer to the album. Not to mention, Mark and Matt sound fucking top notch on this track. Simply put, this was a beautiful addition and I loved it much more than I thought I would going in. - 10/10
*phew*
All-in-all, I was a bit let down by the rest of the deluxe tracks. To be fair, that’s probably mainly due to the fact that the one’s released hyped me up so much and shot my hopes sky high. Actually, no. They just sucked. But, that’s okay. There are a number of solid songs on the deluxe release, and I’ve gained a much stronger appreciation for the original release of California after being introduced to these songs. So, there is a silver lining here.
Overall Rating - 6/10
Stay Tuned for More!
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