#nommer speaks

[transbeamrooikat]

also some commentary from a friend of mine :3 (@chaotickitchenware :3)

some harbor + pluto wc style fanart :33 the retched beasts

[gayrooikat]

hope dip n pip appreciate me pulling through this migrane 2 watch the new vid

[bad-entertainment]

For the ask game: favourite word from your language?

Hhhhhmmmm that is such a hard question!!

For the pronounciation I’d say pamplemousse. It’s like bouncy but also soft.

For the meaning I’d go with batifoler, which means like fooling around like a kid, without worry.

[greenunoreversecard]

HEYYEYHEY CAN I REQUEST LLOYD (ninjago) HEADCANONS PLEASEEEE (ty :3)

A/N: Ofc!I'll do general character ones, as well as x reader ones :) hope ye likey likey:pp

Lloyd, The Greenest and Geekest mf.

General character headcanons:

Half Japanese half Chinese

His hair is box blonde dye and you cannot change my mind.

Left handed

Severely dyslexic and hands off all scroll reading and just reading oriented tasks to kai.

Def gen z vibes. Like, the others give off more inbetween z and millenial, so they dont always get his humor. And sometimes he uses that to his advantage and "Speaks in code" (uses as much slang as possible)

Has LED lights in his room set to forest green.

Has given himself a smiley face tattoo.

Cried over a dead goose once.

OK, just to preface i see cole as a stoner of Sorts and uses the excuse "it gets me closer to my element"

With that in mind cole let lloyd try it and now sometimes when he is told to unwind, of feels like he needs to take a chill pill he and Cole spark up

in the beginning of his leader ship role, he used to Say;"kick ass and take names" and if things went wrong he had the fuck it we ball mindset, but got better with time. There are still times they wing it, though.

if he isnt in his gi he almost exclusively wears his pajamas (aka a Hoodie, tshirt and sweats)

Vv tired, and now has a raging addiction to energy drinks due to his lack of Sleep.

He used to eat worms as a kid bc he Thought he it was evil.

Has a eyebrow piercing, and wants a tongue piercing.

Wears "reading" glasses, that he should technically wear all the time because he can't see up close and has a astigmatism,, but he says yolo. Zane then make him contacts after he almost ran into a moving blade and got his head severed.

Adhd and OCD, as well as the normal line up (anxiety, depression, cptsd)

Lloyd in a relationship:

Hes very distant in the beginning, it'll take time to warm up to you.

He tends to be orage cat vibes.

On the cat trend, he gets close for a bit Before becoming distant. Going through waves of affection, kinda.

He hasn't had like, any good relationships in his life so he tries to "protect" himself when he feels he gets to close to you, and so he pulls away.

He does the fuckboy face when your sad bc it makes you laugh, as well as That weird dice roll

He actually does the face/dice roll combo whenever he Sees you as he walks over, it's an inside joke now

primary giving love language: acts of service and quality time

Primary receiving love language: gifts and words of affirmation. But physical touch is also high up there.

Also, not expensive gifts. He hates those. Give him a stick you saw on a walk that made you think of him. He'll cherish it forever. And maybe cry.

He will cry.

will make noises at you and expects a noise in response or he'll be sad.

Also randomly bites you. He's a nommer

also sends you memes throughout the day.

As well as random pictures with the caption;"BABY LOK THIS IS S. US IF WE WHERE *insert whatever item here*

Called you babe, baby, love, shitface, asshole.

Expect kind and loving gentle bullying.

Doesnt know how to express his emotions to just expect him to come up to you, lightly shake your shoulders and aggressively say;"I love you bitch.i ain't Evea gon stop lovin you. Bitchhhhhhh" (vine reference)

Sends you .5 of everyone, himself included. He's addicted to Taking them. You will not get out of it.

Also sometimes just walks around in nyas stilettos for fun.

You two have fashion shows.

You also take over the Living room sometimes and build giant ass forts to watch shitty reality tv in and make fun oF The people

Overall, once he realizes you won't leave he's the most funniest loving chaotic guy.

But expect it to take a hot minute for him to realsie this

give him time,, but also have some deep talks..

Let him vent

and for the love of God don't hurt the baby's heart.

Expect inside jokes

[taylorswiftie1315]

A girl named "Taylor Swift" born in 1989 was known for writing songs about his former "Lover" (lover) but there is something more in "Folklore" Behind these lips "RED" (red) emblematic hides a woman "Fearless" (intrepid) who in courage people got up and had "Speak Now" that heals people with the music she composes from her thoughts the "MIDNIGHTS" (night) its remarkable "REPUTATION" (reputation) as a music industry will exist "Evermore" (eternally) in the melandres of the "THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTEMENT" (the department of poets torture), his verses trained, carrying the pain and beauty of lost souls.

(i love you @taylorswift)

- Taylor Swiftie 1315 -

Une filles nommer "Taylor Swift" née en 1989 étais connue pour avoir écrit des chansons sur ses anciens "Lover" (amant) mais il y a quelque chose de plus dans "Folklore" Derrière ces lèvres "RED" (rouge) emblématique se cache une femme "Fearless" (intrépide) qui en courage les gens a se lever et a "Speak Now" (parler maintenant) qui guérit les gens avec la musique qu'elle compose à partir de ses pensées la "MIDNIGHTS" (nuit) sa remarquable "REPUTATION" (réputation) en tant que qu'industrie de la musique existera "Evermore" (éternellement) dans les mélandres du "THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTEMENT" (le département des poètes torturer), ses vers s'entracent, portant la douleur et la beauté des âmes égarées. - Taylor Swiftie 1315 - Une filles nommer "Taylor Swift" née en 1989 étais connue pour avoir écrit des chansons sur ses anciens "Lover" (amant) mais il y a quelque chose de plus dans "Folklore" Derrière ces lèvres "RED" (rouge) emblématique se cache une femme "Fearless" (intrépide) qui en courage les gens a se lever et a "Speak Now" (parler maintenant) qui guérit les gens avec la musique qu'elle compose à partir de ses pensées la "MIDNIGHTS" (nuit) sa remarquable "REPUTATION" (réputation) en tant que industrie de la musique existera "Evermore" (éternellement) dans les mélandres du "THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTEMENT" (le département des poètes torturer), ses vers s'entrelacent, portant la douleur et la beauté des âmes égarées. - Taylor Swiftie 1315 -

@taylorswift

@taylornation

[quotemenevervore]

So my clarinet case just fell on my big toe not even 10 minutes ago- my toenail is just barely broken, and the band-aid my mom suggested I put on it is annoying me. Got any good SM tidbits to share? Also, anything you want to know about me? I can even talk about my cats and privately send you pics (I trust you with my identity on here (doesn't even contain irl info of me but I am so protective of it, damn))

-Gremlin Anon

Oh no! Im sorry you got hurt! Im sorry the band-aid is hurting you, but maybe ice/heat and pain meds can help if it’s hurting too much.

Also it’s 100% okay and actually great that you’re protective of your identity! The internet is no joke nowadays, and it’s always better to be safe than sorry. You never know anymore, sadly. As for anything I’d like to know, I don’t really mind! Share whatever you’re comfortable with.

Onto some SM:

Karl will, at some point, become the bigger nommer of the fiancés. Sapnap and Quackity don’t want to make him uncomfortable by storing him, so they usually don’t unless they have full permission and he’s in his right mind (ie not having a panic attack). I’m working on a fic right now where he becomes the storer to comfort his fiancés, which isn’t a first but it’s still rare for Karl to do so. It becomes pretty frequent after that.

Sapnap and Dream get to a point where they’re both more.. instinctual with their games. George doesn’t know about these games, and the fiancés don’t either. Most netherborns have a prey drive, and Dream has the instinct to hide from predators. There’s been one time where Dream egged Sapnap on until he was just about running completely on instincts, only present enough to make sure he didn’t actually hurt Dream. It’s an agreed upon game, but Sapnap feels guilty about it sometimes.

Dream’s tried playing this game with Quackity one on one too, because of the feral boys hide and seek, but Quackity completely broke down after the game was said and done because he had thought he accidentally hurt Dream during it. Which he did nick Dream with his fang by mistake, but all it did was bruise and Dream did not care at all. Sapnap and Dream agree not to let him in on what they’re up to after that incident.

Tommy grows used to being stored as a teasing thing or a game, and thus when he starts getting clingy he tries pulling the stunts he pulls with his usual preds (the fiancés, occasionally Dream, SBI) with Tubbo so he’d get stored. Tubbo’s caught onto the schtick, but at first he was rightly confused. Techno wound up accidentally letting Tubbo in on the truth one day when they were both getting logs from the forest for their wood furnaces/fireplaces. (I ain’t letting that house detail go it’s too nice I wish I had one)

Speaking of Dream and Tommy, they have done games like what Dream and Sapnap do. Tommy doesn’t have instincts, but he likes rough-housing, so they switch off on pred and prey depending on the day. They always start off big so that they can wrestle.

George and Karl start hanging out more after the breakdown, though a lot of the time they both wind up napping. The fiancés tell Karl he’s gotta stop before he becomes another George.

Karl and George have also stored the other before, depending on the situation. A lot of the time it’s for comforting, but sometimes it’s to help the other (I imagine this is when George still has issues swallowing people and Karl’s pretty new to it as well, the timeline is skewed lol)

I… really should make a timeline but it might spoil fics :( ah well, that’s all I got for now! Hope you feel better soon!

[ayalewis]

J'ai publié 431 fois en 2022

5 billets créés (1%)

426 billets reblogués (99%)

Les blogs que j'ai le plus reblogués :

@dagonet

@sloubs

@saecookie

@yanqings

@astromechdroid-r2d2

J'ai étiqueté 423 billets en 2022

Seulement 2% de mes billets ne comportaient pas de tag

#the untamed - 149 billets

#wangxian - 47 billets

#wei wuxian - 43 billets

#kaamelott - 41 billets

#lan wangji - 28 billets

#lotr - 27 billets

#goncharov - 22 billets

#lmao - 19 billets

#kdramas - 19 billets

#jiang cheng - 17 billets

Longest Tag: 110 characters

#winry: and the government officials who destroyed our people and tried to ruin the world can pay for it all :)

Mes billets vedette en 2022 :

n°5

Katya : You are playing a very dangerous game, husband. What will you do when he will discover the truth?

Goncharov : He won't.

Katya : I'm not speaking as your wife but as your business partner. You let him getting closer and closer. It's dangerous.

Goncharov : Don't ask me to hurt him, Katya.

Katya : You will have to make a choice and sooner than you think. Time is not on your side anymore.

0 note - publié le 21 novembre 2022

n°4

Je luttais contre mon insomnie et je pensais au livre VI et je me disais c'est dommage quand même qu'on ait vu César et pas Cléopâtre, quand mon cerveau a buggé. Mais Cléopâtre elle a vécu vers -50 avant JC et Kaamelott se déroule autour du V siècle que je me suis dit (oui parce que je situe Cléopâtre dans le temps mais pas César, go figure).

Alors je me suis dis quand même plus de 4 siècles d'écart avec la version historique ça fait quand même beaucoup même pour AA et ses approximations

Du coup me voilà à essayer de comprendre si on parle de Jules César ou si Cesar est un titre et effectivement on ne parle pas de Jules César mais d'un personnage sûrement inventé par AA qui porte ce titre.

Je sais que c'est sexy de respecter un tel niveau de justesse, sauf que pour la majorité des gens quand on entend César on pense à Jules César et pas au fait que ce soit un titre porté sûrement par une vingtaine de gars différents, tout comme quand on entend Cléopâtre, on pense à Cléopâtre VII, dernière reine d'Égypte et pas aux 6 d'avant (qui étaient sûrement bien sympathiques mais qui n'ont pas marqué l'histoire et l'inconscient collectif de la même manière que Cléopâtre VII).

Tout ça pour dire que AA son Cesar, il aurait pu le nommer juste Imperator ou Robert, Phillipe ou Jean Eudes et m'éviter de rédiger ce post à 3h du matin.

Moi cette nuit au lieu de dormir :

7 notes - publié le 3 avril 2022

n°3

Katya : why are you not [married]?

Sofia : I'm not really interested in that.

Katya : in marriage?

Sofia : in husbands.

16 notes - publié le 21 novembre 2022

n°2

Ok mais les enfants d'Arthur et de Guenièvre qui passent tous leurs étés en Carmelide, avec papi Leodagan qui leur apprend la différence entre les variétés de salades, de choux et de tous les bordels qui arrivent à pousser sur la terre aride du pays.

Et mamie Seli qui les bourre de tartes pratiquement à chaque repas. Les tartes sont aussi dures que celles qu'elle cuisine à Kaamelott, malgré le fait qu'elle soutienne que le problème, c'est ce stupide four que Leodagan a construit lui même. Plus d'une dent de lait a d'ailleurs connu ses dernières heures sur le trottoir de ces tartes.

Et des années plus tard, quand il y a longtemps que les deux grands parents ont quitté ce monde, les enfants devenus grands se souviendront, le sourire aux lèvres, des journées ensoleillées à crever de chaud, penchés sur une stupide feuille de salade ou de choux et des tartes à la myrtille qui auraient pu colmater un mur. Parce que comme disait mamie Seli, les tartes c'est du patrimoine et puis ça leur fait des souvenirs, aux gosses.

17 notes - publié le 8 mars 2022

Mon billet n°1 en 2022

Et si Mani n'était pas mort dans le livre VI mais se serait cogné la tête en tombant sous le coup de la blessure et aurait perdu la mémoire...

Il aurait erré dans les rues de Rome, sans se souvenir de sa propre identité...il aurait fini par être récupéré par un vendeur d'esclaves...

Des années plus tard, après avoir travaillé pour différents maîtres, il aurait atterri en Bretagne, dans les mains de Venec... Venec l'aurait présenté à Kaamelott et il se serait fait embaucher là bas...

Quand il arrive à Kaamelott, il est irreconnaissable, usé par des années de servitude, les cheveux et la barbe longs...il est remis sur pieds avant de commencer à travailler

Son supérieur lui explique qu'il n'est plus esclave et qu'il aura même droit à un petit salaire, que le roi Arthur leur donne lui même...

Un après midi, il fait la queue avec ses collègues devant un bureau et quand son tour arrive, ses yeux rencontrent ceux du roi Arthur, qui laisse tomber la bourse qu'il tient sous le choc, le bruit des pièces d'or heurtant le sol résonnant dans le corridor.

Le roi pâlit et sa lèvre supérieure tremble, mais il arrive à prononcer un mot : Mani.

44 notes - publié le 13 mars 2022

Obtenez votre année 2022 en revue sur Tumblr →

[checkoutafrica]

Netflix Announces Second Original South African Series Titled “Blood and Water”

After their previous announcement for a show focused on Shona mythology, Netflix seems to be doubling down on their quest to release more Afrocentric show with a new announcement about on an upcoming South African inspired Netflix Original titled “Blood and Water”.

Coming after the “Queen Sono” original starring South African actress Pearl Thusi, this new series will follow the story of a teenager who unravels shocking secrets about her family’s past, all while trying to navigate through the complex and sometimes violent world of South African high school. Expected to launch sometime in the coming year, the cast of the series is yet to be announced but Director Nosipo Dumisa, who has garnered international praise for her “Nommer 37” gangster thriller, has hinted that the series will feature several new faces and talent.

Speaking on the new series, Nosipho Dumisa explained “Gambit Films and I are so excited to be working with Netflix on this explosive young adult drama, with not only a cool look at strong female leads but also a powerful mystery at its core. As a director who loves genre, this series combines the best of so many and isn’t shy to delve into the real issues of youth culture, whilst jam-packing it with twists that will keep viewers guessing.”

The post Netflix Announces Second Original South African Series Titled “Blood and Water” appeared first on CheckoutAfrica.

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[firewritten]

The Little Universe

Once, in the time before our time began, all was darkness and chaos and heat. And in that dark hot chaos, there lived a small universe. It was a very happy universe. It danced the galactic swirl, it sang the songs of infinity and heat death, and it nommed on extremely tasty cheeseburgers.

One day the small universe was swirling through the Hot and Fast Forest, by the Lake of Infinite Reaction, when it was accosted by The Nommer of All Things.

The Nommer of All Things was very big, bigger than the universe by far. It dwarfed the cosmic Hot and Fast Forest. The Lake of Infinite Reaction barely covered its toes. All existence trembled before its size and its great hunger.

The small universe looked up at it and said, “You’re in my way. I have galactic swirling to do and songs to sing, songs of infinity and heat death. Please move.”

The Nommer of All Things laughed. Its laughter shook the particles as they charged into each other in the Hot and Fast Forest. The chemicals in the Lake of Infinite Reaction stopped their reactions, struck motionless in fear. The universe alone stood brave and straight and true, looking up and up and up into the one eye possessed by The Nommer of All Things. The universe glared at the eye meaningfully.

The eye was small and milky white, set in the center of The Nommer’s face and surrounded by mountainous yellow teeth. The eye looked back down at the universe. The teeth began to move.

“Little universe, do you dare ask me, The Nommer of All Things, to let you pass?” The Nommer’s voice boomed across the swirling void. “I should eat you all up, as fit punishment for your impudence.”

The small universe could feel its insides becoming very hot. It did not look away from the milky white eye. It gazed right into the eye and said, “Do it. Eat me.”

The Nommer’s laughter boomed out across infinity, shaking all the particles to their very core.

“No, little universe, not yet. You amuse me. Very well. I shall move out of the way and let you pass, if you can bring me three things. They are not things that are easy for a little universe to procure. Prove yourself worthy of your impudent swagger, and I shall not nom you.”

The inhabitants of the Hot and Fast Forest and the Lake of Infinite Reaction were silent and still, waiting for the universe’s answer. It looked up at the small milky eye surrounded by the mountainous yellow teeth, and it was not afraid.

“I accept.”

“Three things shall you bring to me,” said The Nommer of All Things. “I require two extremely tasty cheeseburgers from The Diner Not Quite At But Very Near The End Of All Things, a googolplex of orphans, and one Infinite Red Hot Voidrock Candy Bar. Bring me all this, and I shall not nom you.”

The small universe said, “Sounds fair enough.” It spit upwards towards The Nommer of All Things, for in that time spitting was a sign of honor and agreement, and then it turned and swirled towards The Diner Not Quite At But Very Near The End Of All Things, singing its songs of infinity and heat death as it went.

—

The Diner Not Quite At But Very Near The End Of All Things was very far away from the Hot and Fast Forest and the Lake of Infinite Reaction, as you may imagine. The universe swirled and sang and traveled for quite some time before it arrived at the diner.

The diner is famous for its delicious cheeseburgers. The cheeseburgers are made of the deaths of civilizations, the smiles of pegasus kittens, and flecks of rust from the remains of the saddest playground in all infinity.

The small universe swirled up to the speaker outside the diner. Now, it may be very hard, if not impossible, for you or me to order fast food in the vacuum of space, but then we are not universes.

A small squeaky voice came from the speaker.

“Welcome to The Diner Not Quite At But Very Near The End Of All Things. How may I help you today?”

“I’ll have two cheeseburgers, with extra deaths of civilizations. Easy on the smiles of pegasus kittens.”

“Two cheeseburgers, extra deaths of civilizations, light smiles of pegasus kittens. Your total is five black holes and three charming quarks. Please swirl around to the second window.”

The universe swirled around, picked up its two cheeseburgers, and laughed. The Nommer must be very silly, to give the small universe such easy tasks. The universe bid a good eon to the cashier, stashed the cheeseburgers away safely, and swirled off in search of a googolplex of orphans.

—

Orphans do not advertise themselves in quite the same way that diners, especially diners very near but not quite at the end of all things, do. The small universe swirled over all creation, and it could not find a googolplex of orphans. It stopped laughing. After a few centuries, it stopped smiling.

One long hot dusty day, when it had been searching for hours and hours in The Mountains of Lost Socks, a star appeared. The star was very little and lost and lonely and sad. The universe felt sorry for it.

“Are you an orphan, little star? I have been searching for orphans for many centuries. I know of one who would like to adopt a whole googolplex of orphans, and if I do not bring them to him he will nom me.”

The star twinkled at the universe.

“Can you not speak, little star?”

The star twinkled some more.

“Are there others like you?”

The star twinkled one last time and then it disappeared. The small universe sighed a very deep sigh. Perhaps there would be orphans in The Spinning Stroboscopic Void. And if not, The Spinning Stroboscopic Void was always a good time anyway.

As the universe turned to go, one sad little twinkle far off in the distance caught its attention. Then there was another. And another. And another.

The universe turned back towards The Mountains of Lost Socks, and there it beheld a googolplex of orphaned stars and planets and asteroids.

The star it had first seen reappeared, twinkling furiously. The universe was taken aback.

“No, you cannot have my extremely delicious cheeseburgers from The Diner Not Quite At But Very Near The End Of All Things! However, if you come with me and help me find the Infinite Red Hot Voidrock Candy Bar, then once we get back to The Fast and Hot Forest and the Lake of Infinite Reaction I will provide you with all the cheeseburgers you could nom.”

The star twinkled excitedly.

The universe swirled out of The Mountains of Lost Socks, headed towards The Spinning Stroboscopic Void. A great host of stars, planets, and asteroids followed it.

—

The Spinning Stroboscopic Void is filled with music, music that thumps and pumps and bumps all day and all night, all through the eons. The music is so loud that not even a universe can hear itself think.

The universe swirled through the music, dancing the galactic slide. It sang its songs of infinity and heat death in tune to the beat. It looked back at its followers, the googolplex of orphans, infinitely repeated in infinite colors. The universe was very happy, and it nearly forgot its goal, the Infinite Red Hot Voidrock Candy Bar. It was reminded when a young black hole tugged on its edges.

“Please, universe, may we have the cheeseburgers?”

“No! They’re not for you! They are for The Nommer of All Things, who will nom us all unless we can find the Infinite Red Hot Voidrock Candy Bar!”

The music stopped. The infinite colors all disappeared, leaving only a milky whiteness.

The milky whiteness receded until it became a small spot of color in the darkness. The small universe stared into it.

Yellow mountainous teeth rose around the spot of milky whiteness.

“I have given you eons, little universe, and you have not brought me the three things I ask for.”

The universe trembled.

“I see you have gathered a googolplex of orphans, and I can smell the cheeseburgers on you. Very good decision, going light on the smiles of pegasus kittens. Thank you. But I do not sense the Infinite Red Hot Voidrock Candy Bar. You have failed. I shall nom all the things now.”

The mountainous yellow teeth separated in tectonic shifts as The Nommer of All Things opened its infinite mouth. The stars and planets and asteroids fell into the black hole. The cheeseburgers from The Diner Not Quite At But Very Near The End Of All Things were ripped from their hiding place and vacuumed up into the giant maw.

The small universe saw the star who had first greeted it in The Mountains of Lost Socks sliding by. The star was not twinkling now. Overcome by guilt for leading the poor thing to its death, the universe reached out. It took hold of the star, and it was sucked into the great mouth of The Nommer of All Things along with it.

—

It was very dark inside The Nommer of All Things. Dark and silent and still. The small universe was afraid.

It noticed the small lonely star trying to twinkle. Here, in the endless dark void of death, the star was trying to twinkle. It seemed to be twinkling at something. The universe looked upward, and saw one of the cheeseburgers from The Diner Not Quite At But Very Near The End Of All Things floating by. It reached out and grabbed the cheeseburger.

The star twinkled very brightly indeed.

“Do you want the cheeseburger? I guess you can have it now. I’m sorry. There’s no point. There’s no point to anything and we’ve been nommed and it’s all dark and dead and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The universe cried. It cried tears made of the birth of stars and the deaths of planets. It cried tears of infinity and heat death.

The star, nomming on the cheeseburger, twinkled at it.

The universe dried its tears. It watched the star nom on the cheeseburger, and it thought. It thought of the googolplex of stars and planets and asteroids in here with it, inside The Nommer of All Things. It thought of the heat rising within itself when The Nommer had first challenged it. It thought of Reality and Life and Things and Socks and Stroboscopic Voids and all the things it would miss, stuck here inside The Nommer, inside the dark void of nothingness.

The universe’s insides started to warm.

It could have found the Infinite Red Hot Voidrock Candy Bar. It could have, if it’d had enough time. But, the universe realized, The Nommer Of All Things would have nommed them all anyway. That was its plan all along. It would have never let the small universe escape.

The universe felt its insides zooming around, very hot and very fast and very angry.

The poor little star did not deserve this. The planets and the asteroids did not deserve stillness and death. It could give them life. It could give them a place to live. It could make The Nommer of All Things pay for betraying them all.

The universe exploded.

—-

Once upon a time, our time began. Our star and its planets found a home inside a young universe, and our people found a home on one of those planets.

Go to sleep now, and know that the universe is watching over you. And don’t forget to give it the occasional hamburger.

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

Liked this story? Buy me a coffee! :)

[apathyiscertain]

“Dinpap” & Nothing else.

The person that I am today is the product of the music which I listen to and have been exposed to.Music has played a huge, ever-present role in my life. Growing up, the music I was exposed to was mostly gospel from the “Platteland” they consisted of ancient Afrikaans hymns and “juig nommers”. In the early years, after moving to Cape Town, my mother held on to the rather dry, faint and vague sounds of the Karoo as she was a stranger in this big city, where everything moved too fast and dirt and crime sprawled, infecting everything, but she had hopes of a better future for herself and her kids – she held onto the thing which reminded her most of the dusty, flat, arid landscapes of her true home.

The same applied to me, when I moved to Cape Town at the age of two, everything was completely foreign, and incomprehensible. I wanted to go home, but that didn’t happen for a long time. So we navigated, my mom and I, we learnt how to communicate with these new English-speaking people and learnt their ways. Louisa, my mom, explained to me that the only way we were to survive in this new place was if we had God on our side, so the very next Sunday we joined a church and slowly infiltrated our way into the community – inbetween her working three domestic jobs and being exploited by her employees in order to provide for me. 

Finally, she was offered a stable job working for a family and we were allowed to stay in a Wendy house in the backyard (which I almost burnt down twice). I spent lots of time alone, as my mom was working in the main house and I was too young to go to school – also, I was completely Afrikaans. In this time, I explored the tapes that we had brought with us from the Karoo, this was when I first fell in love with music.

What I first discovered about music was how it compelled me to feel different emotions, you’ll be fine one moment and the next moment bitter-sweet memories of starvation, abuse and freedom would take you on an overwhelming adventure. I could hear the deep, burly shouts of my grandfather, feel the safe, protective arms of my older sister as she tried to shield me and the cries and sobs of my cousins, their happiness, laughter when we got a chance to play in the morning sun. I could feel the blistering afternoon heat, smell the tea my grandmother made for me and picture her cooling it down – throwing it from one cup to the other. I felt the experience of racing to get to the house because the “dinpap” was ready and the relief as I placed the first spoon of hot porridge into my mouth. All this emotion could be caused by just one song. Wow. Crazy.

Nowadays I use music as a medium to feel emotions I may be hiding from, because there are some things that could only be said by someone else – things I would never admit to myself. Looking at myself now, being a completely different version of the little girl who arrived in Cape Town not knowing a word of English, to now only being able to articulate myself properly in English, I would like to thank music for my growth. Through music I learnt about God, spirituality, that it’s okay to be an outcast if you’re not feeling the vibe, I learnt that sometimes when you’re feeling down you just have to dance a little and sing a song, afterwards you’ll be alright. I learnt to push through life, because it’s tough but sometimes the beat of a song is all the hope you need.

[xenobladeimagines]

way back ago on dirty-xenobladeconfessions there was an au posted in which upper bionis speaks french. with the royals being bilingual, melia has to interpret the nopon for the party, but of course riki speaks how he does and melia hasn't used english in years. do something amusing with that

wasnt it on the headcanons blog?

peut-être que vais le traduire un jour lmao

Celadevait faire presque 30 and que Melia n’avait pas parlé ou entendu del’anglais. Même si elle le comprenait toujours plus ou moins bien, elle étaitcertaine que pour ces gens qui venait de la sauver, elle devait avoir un drôled’accent. 

Elle avait décidé de servir non seulement de guidepour ses sauveurs, mais aussi d’interprète puisqu’elle doutait que des gens desbasses régions du Bionis connaissait le français. 

Malheureusement pour elle, le Nopon que le chef avaitnommer pour les accompagner pour se débarrasser une fois pour toute de laTelethia avait un dialecte... unique. Elle avait été capable sans trop grandmal de traduire le dialecte des Nopons dans le village, mais Riki était quelquechose d’autre. 

Elle se débrouillait tant bien que mal à non seulementle comprendre, mais aussi à le traduire. Heureusement pour elle, ses compagnonsarrivaient à le comprendre mieux qu’elle, puisque Riki connaissait un peud’anglais. 

La communication était difficile, mais ils yarrivaient, d’une manière ou d’une autre. 

[tout-cela-et-bien-plus-encore]

Once you get this you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly. Then send this to ten of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool~) 🌈🌈

Thanks for the ask, friend!!1- Mon nez, je crois. Je sais pas pourquoi depuis quelque temps je l'aime bien! / My nose, I think. I can't explain why but, of late, I like it!2- Ma capacité à accepter mes petits seins et d'en avoir rien à péter de leur taille ! Je sais qu'ils seront jamais plus gros et c'est pas grave ! / My ability to accept (and maybe like?) my little breast! I know it'll never be larger but I just really don't care! 3- Mes valeurs (je sais pas comment nommer ça) Je suis fière d'être féministe et de défendre les droits des LGBT+ et être contre le racisme en général, je suis fière de me battre pour des causes justes (selon moi) / My values (I don't know how to name this) I'm proud to be feminist and to defend LGBT+ community's rights and to be against racism generally speaking. I'm proud to fight for the good causes (from my point of view)4- Le fait de réussir à oublier ce qui n'allait pas dans mes souvenirs, je veux dire par là que quand je repense à un quelconque souvenir je vois les bons moments passés et non le fait que j'avais mal, que j'étais fatiguée, etc. (même si je me plains énormément dans la vie quotidienne) / I succeed to forget the bad things in my memories and I think that's quite good? When I remember a moment of my life, I think about the good things and not the tiny problems, like, I was tired or my back was hurting, etc. 5- Ma capacité à m'adapter? Bon, je ne m'adapte pas à tout mais quand c'est vraiment pour ma santé je ne réfléchis pas et je le fais, un point c'est tout! J'apprends à vivre avec, comme pour mon corset! / My ability to be adabtable? Honestly, I can't adjust to everything but when that's serious, for my health for example, I don't think! I learn to live with it, like with my orthopedic corset!

[loveyourlocalgirlgang]

INTERVIEW PIMP MY QUEER NIGHTS #6 - ROBIN DES DOIGTS

Les drag kings (terme anglais construit en réponse version “masculine”  à drag queen) sont des personnes construisant une identité masculine volontairement basée sur des archétypes de façon temporaire le temps d'un jeu de rôle.  Ces personnes peuvent revendiquer toute identité de genre.

“On connaît toutes Divine ou RuPaul. Mais peut-on seulement nommer des Drag King célèbres ? Les femmes s’habillent en homme et se produisent sur scène depuis plus d’un siècle, mais les drag kings peinent à attirer autant l’attention que leurs consoeurs à faux cils.” Source Barbieturix

La scène s'éclaire et la salle devient silencieuse.  Sous les coups de pinceau, les sourcils se font plus épais, les petits cheveux se transforment en pattes.

Sur l'estrade du Coxx,  la silhouette d'un jeune homme brun se détache, il porte un chino gris foncé, des bretelles de mauvais garçon et des chaussures oxford de gentleman anglais. 

Sous les encouragements de la foule, il mime des gestes lascifs,  la voix de -M- s'élève dans la pièce : « Machistador » La chemise, suivie du pantalon tombe au sol pour révéler un torse sculpté au make-up . À l'issue du strip-tease, Robin quitte la scène et met fin à sa performance de drag-king accompagné des cris déchainés du publc.

Pendant féminin des drag-queens, les drag-kings interprètent un personnage masculin le temps d'une soirée, ou d'une performance. La pratique est ancienne– l'émergence de scènes dédiées en France, un peu moins.

Sixième portrait de la série dédiée aux activistes et organisateurs/trices de soirée  Queer....  ⚡🏳️‍⚧ ⚧ 🏳️‍🌈 

Nous avons eu le plaisir d’interviewer Robin des Doigts.

Présente-nous ton parcours artistique et tes activités.

Bon, je vais faire un aveu pour commencer. Voilà, je ne suis pas montpellierain. Je suis de Marseille et c’est là-bas que j’ai découvert le drag king en 2015. J’y ai développé mon envie d’explorer mon drag, fouiller mon king, me projeter sur scène. Pendant plusieurs années, j’ai participé à des ateliers et à des soirées. Comme je dis souvent, j’ai fait ma sellfie whore sur Instagram en travaillant mon king chez moi, mon style, ma personnalité, mon make-up. La base de baby drag en somme.

Puis, j’ai emménagé à Montpellier fin 2017. J’ai su que c’était le moment pour Robin des Doigts d’avoir sa propre existence publique. Je suis devenu un subtil mélange de poils, de paillettes, de daddy's issues et de masculinité fragile. J’aime autant me déhancher en lipsync (et montrer mon cul de temps en temps) que m'emparer d'un micro pour du stand up. Oui, Robin a des doigts mais il a une langue. Je crois que c’est ce qui a plu à Medusa Dickinson, queen de ma vie que j’ai rencontré l’année dernière et avec laquelle j’ai fondé la House of Boner en Septembre 2018.

Depuis nous sommes les hote.sse.s de la Pimp My Queer. C’est une soirée scène ouverte extra qui a lieu une fois par mois au Coxx. Elle est organisée par des meufs de mon gang local que je soutiens : Support Your Local Girl Gang. Oh wait. Sinon parfois, je performe ailleurs.

En quoi le choix de participer et aider à l'organisation d'un évènement comme Pimp my queer a une dimension politique et militante ?

Ce type d’événement est clairement politique et donc militant car il permet de donner de la visibilité à des groupes minorisés dans notre société. Il ne s’agit pas seulement de donner un espace mais également de le faire dans les conditions les plus favorables et saines.

En l’occurrence, les soirées Pimp My Queer ont offert une scène au performeurs.ses drag/queer locaux qui n’existait absolument pas avant à Montpellier. Nous y trouvons le courage de se lancer ensemble, d’y évoluer ensemble, de se soutenir ensemble. Il y a une véritable bienveillance entre nous. Et c’est ça, la raison première qui me motive à chaque scène ouverte. On célèbre nos différences, on se divertit, on donne du boner à des personnes qui en manquent parfois dans leur vie. On fait du lien et du bien à notre communauté. Et c’est ce qui compte le plus pour moi. 

D’ailleurs, les soirées Pimp My Queer attirent un public très hétéroclite dans un bar habituellement très gay. C’est le seul soir où on y voit aussi des meufs, des gouines, des folles, des trans, etc.

Les lines-up sont 100% Queer ? Quels sont les artistes qui participent et vont participer à cet évènement ?

Oui les lines-up sont 100% queer. On essaie de mettre en avant des performeurs.ses queer de la manière la plus inclusive possible. Le registre musical peut varier (rap, chant, dj mix) et les artistes aussi. La scène ouverte concentre pas mal d’artistes drag queen/king/queer.

Bien sûr, notre iconique MC : Julien de Bomerani. Non seulement Julien fait des shows dingues avec du feu, des échasses, etc. mais il est aussi magnifique et très drôle. Il y a les réguliers.ères : Aquila Leek de la House of Banana, Lagoon Azur, Clark Ken de la House of Boner (yep c’est mon fils), Timothée, Lux Detox, Enzo Mlle ...

Quelles sont tes influences ?

J’ai fait pas mal de syndicalisme quand j’étais jeune étudiant, puis j’ai trainé dans des assos féministes et LGBTQI+. Mais c’est aussi et surtout des gens qui ont forgé la personne et le king que je suis aujourd’hui :

Les vraies personnes qui m’ont inspiré plus que quiconque : mes grand-mères, ma mère, mes tantes, mon père, madame Tautil (ma prof de français du lycée, je ne sais pas si j’ai le droit de citer son nom mais allez).

Les personnes/personnages jamais rencontrées qui ont eu un impact énorme sur ma construction personnelle : Audre Lorde, Frida Kahlo, Ellen de Generes, Rupaul, Beth Ditto, Pierre Bourdieu, Karl Marx, Selena Quintanilla-Pérez, Jean Jaurès, Lady Oscar, Xena La Guerrière.

Cette meuf :

Et elles et eux aussi :

As-tu imaginé te produire dans d'autres évènements, dans d'autre villes ?

Je bouge pas mal en général alors oui. J’ai déjà performé au Souffleurs à Paris pour la King Factory. J’étais entouré de potos kings, c’était que du Boner. J’ai trop hâte de retourner performer là-bas. Par ailleurs, je me rends souvent à Marseille et Lyon. J’ai également performé au Sucre à Lyon lors de la soirée de clôture de la Drag Week. Et je (re)poserai ma moustache à Lyon, à Paris et sûrement Marseille d’ici peu. Mais si tu vis ailleurs, ici ou même là-bas et que tu veux un king, contacte-moi bébé.

Vous apportez quelque chose de nouveau sur Montpellier avec la House of Boner, peux-tu nous en dire plus ?  C'est quoi les prochaines étapes ?

Je suis extrêmement fier de la House of Boner que j’ai créée avec Medusa Dickinson, la plus envoutante et fabuleuse de toutes les queens. Pour commencer, nous sommes la première maison drag de Montpellier et c’est symboliquement assez fort. Et surtout, nous sommes la première maison drag de France fondée par une mother et un father. Cela nous permet de se nourrir l’un.e l’autre de nos expériences personnelles respectives sur le plan humain, militant, artistique et makeupistique. La House of Boner est aussi un outil fantastique d’inclusion car nous nous rendons compte que nous parlons à des gens très différents qui peuvent s’identifier à Medusa, ou à moi-même, ou encore à ce que nous représentons ensemble. Je crois aussi que la création de la House of Boner et surtout la vie publique et visibilité de notre maison a été déclic pour Medusa et moi mais aussi pour les autres drags locaux.les. Ca a créé une dynamique qui s’est elle-même inscrite dans une dynamique locale des soirées queer à Montpellier et Nîmes.

Ton artiste préféré.e ?

Oups, j’ai déjà donné les noms plus haut. Je ne peux pas dire qu’il y ait un.e seul.e artiste qui soit mon ou ma préféré.e de tou.te.s en fait. Mais quitte à n’en citer qu’une, je me dois de parler de Jennifer Lopez qui a un statut tout spécial dans mon cœur. J’avais onze ans quand je l’ai découverte et j’en suis tombé amoureux sur le coup. J’ai vingt-neuf ans aujourd’hui et mon amour a gardé toute la fougue des premiers jours.

Une citation ?

Allez !

C’est la fin du poème A Litany for Survival d’une puissance hallucinante, écrit par Audre Lorde :

«  […] and when we speak we are afraid, our words will not be heard nor welcomed but when we are silent we are still afraid. So it is better to speak remembering we were never meant to survive. »

Je n’ai pas trouvé de traduction plus ou moins officielle sur google. Et je ne me suis pas permis de traduire le texte moi-même car je suis trop psychorigide pour bâcler une traduction et l’envoyer à l’arrache (vu le retard déjà accumulé pour rendre cet article *sifflote*).

Des endroits que tu recommanderais pour faire la fête à Montpellier ?

Le Coxx (surtout les jeudis de Pimp My Queer)

Nu-Bahia (t’y vas pour danser ou t’y vas pas, la danse étant ma religion, moi j’y vais)

Les Trois Singes (surtout les soirées de Born to be Queer)

Le Mas de Couran à Lattes (surtout les mercredi TBM avec le fabuleux Julien de Bomerani)

Le Mosquito Latino (Pisco, San Miguel, musique latine, concerts, danse et empanadas juste à côté, la base)

Le Rockstore (le lieu des fins de soirée plus ou moins réussies)

L’Antirouille (y’a de bons concerts de rap)

L’ODB (y’a aussi de bons concerts de rap)

La Pleine Lune (y’a de bonnes soirées salsa, une bonne ambiance voire des concerts cools)

Le Panama (autre lieu des fins de soirées plus ou moins réussies mais version reggaeton)

Quel est ton spot à apéro ?

Les brunchs de la Panacée (apéro de début de dimanche parce que y’a pas d’heure ma gueule)

Le Broc Café (avec ses soirées de théâtre d’improvisation notamment)

Les Demoiselles de Montpellier (c’est plutôt un before d’apéro mais le lieu est super sympa et y’a de la bière sans gluten wesh)

La Barbotte (microbrasserie - #passionbièreartisanale)

HOPULUS BREW PUB (microbrasserie - #passionbièreartisanale)

Le Rebuffy (en fait depuis que je suis à Montpellier c’est le bar préféré des gens que j’y rencontre mais je sais pas trop pourquoi. Enfin, il est super cool, c’est clair, mais je ne saurais dire pourquoi #1)

Que penses-tu de Support your Local Girl Gang ?

*Cœurs pailleté avec les doigts*

Montpellier est connue pour être la capitale LGBT+ de France. J’avoue ne toujours pas comprendre pourquoi. Il existe un petit tissu associatif mais il me semble qu’il manque de diversité, de queerness. Aussi bien dans les thématiques politiques représentées que dans la vie culturelle et festive de notre communauté. Support Your Local Girl Gang est un super outil qui permet depuis peu de créer de nouveaux liens, qui participe à l’inclusion et à la valorisation des minorités dans la minorité. Mais surtout, le collectif nous donne l’occasion de nous retrouver tous et toutes pour faire la fête. La fête militante et inclusive, c’est la vie. C’est à l’une de ses soirées que j’ai appris à faire un death drop, si c’est pas une preuve ça. Montpellier manque d’initiatives comme Support Your Local Girl Gang. Je pense que son existence, comme celle de la House of Boner, inspirent aussi d’autres groupes LGBTQI+ à se monter et à oser plus de visibilité. Bravo.

A titre personnel, je dois dire que c’est lors des Pimp My Queer que j’ai commencé à performer sur scène, à me présenter publiquement, à m’exprimer en tant que Robin des Doigts face à la communauté locale. J’ai un rapport tout particulier à ce collectif et beaucoup de gratitude. Je lui souhaite une longue vie. Mon parcours de King évoluera peut-être ou peut-être pas, mais je me rappellerai toujours mes premières scènes.

*Cœurs pailleté avec les doigts*

Emeraldia Ayakashi - Support Your Local Girl Gang

[prudencepaccard]

speaking of dandyism, here’s (if anybody cares) a little synthèse I wrote for my qualifying exams last year. Both non-exhaustive and extremely...weird, but that’s kind of the fun isn’t it. Take all the ideas herein with a grain of salt

Prompt: With reference to the readings on your list, discuss the Dandy as a figure of the aesthetics of transgression in the 19th century.

Response: In order to discuss the relationship of the dandy to a nineteenth-century aesthetics of transgression, it is first necessary to both define and periodize dandyism—or rather, to acknowledge the range of definitions and periodizations that exist, as there is not a consensus about what the word means, who counts as a dandy, and whether it exists outside of a certain era or eras. In Le mythe du dandy, Émilien Carassus distinguishes between the notion of the dandy as a historical phenomenon that can be traced to a specific period and to specific individuals, and as an ideal that never really existed. He privileges the latter concept, saying that dandyism as a myth is more powerful than the biography of any given historical dandy, but acknowledges that both ideas support and inform one another: the ideal of dandyism requires instantiations it can crystallize around, but none of those instantiations will ever represent that ideal perfectly. All sources agree that dandyism in its original sense involves having a particular relationship to clothing, but that the clothing is less important than the relationship, and thus can be expanded to include affectations that do not involve clothing per se but are connected to it by a shared attitude. As Baudelaire puts it in Peintre de la vie moderne, “Le dandysme n’est […] pas un goût immodéré de la toilette et de l’élégance matérielle. Ces choses ne sont pour le parfait dandy qu’un symbole de la supériorité aristocratique de son esprit.”

An attempt to periodize dandyism is more relevant, of course, to an analysis of historical dandyism than mythical dandyism; but the myth itself has its dates, and so is subject to historiographical analysis. While Carassus values the myth more than the historical reality, he acknowledges that anachronistic definitions of dandyism which apply the label to historical figures “avant ou après la lettre” tend to dilute its meaning. While it is possible to see dandyism in other eras, it is still in comparison to a baseline era. For Carassus, this baseline is the Romantic era, and he sees Beau Brummell as, if not the literal “first dandy,” at least a founding figure, and dandyism as a cross-cultural phenomenon that is more or less unidirectionally English-to-French (he goes so far as to say that it is “impossible” to be a dandy outside of Paris and London); however, he readily includes later figures such as Baudelaire (albeit minus Les Fleurs du mal, which he finds insufficiently detached to be an “œuvre de dandysme”) as both theorists and practitioners. Camus has a similarly expansive vision of dandyism (although, as Carassus points out, his analysis is more metaphysical) in L’homme révolté; dandyism is central to romanticism, but as his romanticism includes both Byron and Baudelaire, the Romantic era goes beyond 1800-1850. Baudelaire himself, as well as Barbey d’Aurevilly and Balzac, have more or less contemporary perspectives on dandyism, although both look backwards to varying degrees; in Peintre de la vie moderne, Baudelaire is writing during a moment that falls outside of Carassus’ golden age of dandyism, but not by very much; Barbey d’Aurevilly, in Du Dandysme et de George Brummell, is situated towards its end and thus after the death of the actual subject of his study; and Balzac, in Traité de la vie élégante, is well within the Romantic era, after Brummell’s English heyday but during a time when his influence was felt strongly in France.

In her study Dandyism in the Age of Revolution: The Art of the Cut, Elizabeth Amann proposes that dandyism, rather than beginning in the nineteenth century with Beau Brummell, was in fact eighteenth-century foppery that had undergone a valorization process at the end of the century; as a distinct phenomenon it had its roots in the Revolution of 1789, and thus was a French importation to England before Brummell brought it back to France. She focuses on the (proto-)dandyism of the Terror, Thermidor and the Directory, but also discusses its reverberations into nineteenth-century “theoretical discussions” (notably Le Peintre de la vie moderne, Traité de la vie élégante, and Sartor Resartus). She makes the bold but plausible claim that “the Revolution [of 1789] lurks behind the modern vision of dandyism,” for instance, pointing out that Baudelaire’s meditations on dandyism in Le Peintre de la vie moderne are preceded by a reflection on Revolutionary fashion in the first chapter: “J’ai sous les yeux une série de gravures de modes commençant avec la Révolution et finissant à peu près au Consulat.” I would add that he later states in the chapter “Le dandy” that dandies and incroyables are driven by the same impulse: “Que ces hommes se fassent nommer raffinés, incroyables, beaux, lions ou dandys, tous sont issus d’une même origine; tous participent du même caractère d’opposition et de révolte; tous sont des représentants de ce qu’il y a de meilleur dans l’orgueil humain, de ce besoin, trop rare chez ceux d’aujourd’hui, de combattre et de détruire la trivialité.” Like Amann, Baudelaire sees dandyism as a transitional phenomenon, “le dernier éclat d’héroïsme dans les décadences […] un soleil couchant; comme l’astre qui décline, il est superbe, sans chaleur et plein de mélancolie,” but not unique to the time and place of the particular transition focused on in The Art of the Cut: “Le dandysme est une institution vague, aussi bizarre que le duel; très-ancienne, puisque César, Catilina, Alcibiade nous en fournissent des types éclatants; très-générale, puisque Chateaubriand l’a trouvée dans les forêts et au bord des lacs du Nouveau-Monde.”

If we define “the aesthetics of transgression” as rule-breaking mediated by aesthetic concerns and thus governed by its own codes and logic—or aesthetic projects mediated by rule-breaking—then the figure of the dandy in the nineteenth century (and beyond) can be seen as aesthetically transgressive (or transgressively aesthetic) in several ways. The dandy explicitly rejects the conventions of bourgeois society (and mainstream aristocratic society, for that matter);  Amann makes a compelling case that dandyism, as a practice of self-fashioning if not yet as a fully-formed philosophy, was a form of resistance to stringent Revolutionary codes of dress, and that the more theorized (Romantic, Decadent, etc.) nineteenth-century dandyism displays continuity with this tradition. The dandy also makes a strong claim to distinction and alterity which is at once completely personal and completely dependent on the gaze of others; negation, nothingness and the death drive are often at the heart of this differentiation; and beauty and elegance are positioned as the highest in a hierarchy of values.

While the dandy’s aesthetics are not necessarily depoliticized, they certainly take precedence over politics; that is to say, the political element present in the aesthetics does not define them and, more importantly, aesthetic convictions will never yield to conflicting political demands. In fact, they will not yield to any demands at all, except the exigencies of taste and perhaps of material reality. There is a certain threat in this valuation of the beautiful as terminally good that goes beyond the political inconvenience of “l’art pour l’art.” When the beautiful and the good are seen as independent, they can very easily be placed into opposition. The beautiful can be evil: in À rebours, a tortoise is killed when its shell is bejeweled, and flowers exhale poison; degenerate flowers also form a topos in the work of Baudelaire and Genet, their titles blurring into one another: Notre-Dame des fleurs du mal. The evil can also be beautiful; even murder may, as Thomas De Quincey says in On Murder Considered as one of the Fine Arts, be “treated aesthetically,” rather than “laid hold of by its its moral handle (as it generally is in the pulpit and at the Old Bailey), and that, I confess is its weak side.”

When this mindset is taken further, the weaker “moral handle” is not simply momentarily ignored—it is destroyed. Genet, says Larry David Nachman in “Genet: Dandy of the Lower Depths,” does not feel bound by customary morality, “[n]or does he replace the customary with a personal morality. What happens in Genet is that the whole moral order disintegrates and disappears. In its place, Genet offers a pure aestheticism from which all trace of the moral has been erased. ‘The beauty of a moral act,’ Genet says, ‘depends on the beauty of its expression.’ Genet explicitly rejects any calculation of the consequences of an act.” Among these aestheticized acts is, of course, murder—but the moral vacuum is more deeply felt than it is in De Quincey’s essay, for Genet’s aestheticism is born of hatred and resentment. De Quincey assures us that although he admires the murders of others, he would never commit the act himself—Genet makes no such promises:

Above all, it is murder that Genet adores. Murder is the final test of one's commitment to the aesthetic. One kills to demonstrate one's fidelity to the logic of the act. Fidelity to the aesthetic of pure violence is proof that one no longer retains a loyalty to the moral world of ordinary men. […] Genet’s is not an indifferent detachment. He withdraws from a world he detests and which has wronged him. Hatred of the world and the desire to have revenge upon it underlay his aesthetic embrace of crime. […] And no one knew this better than his friend, Jean-Paul Sartre, who was unflinching in his devotion. The finest pages of Sartre’s adulatory commentary upon Genet examine the issue of aestheticism. At one point, Sartre observes that “aestheticism does not derive form an unconditional love of the Beautiful: it is born of resentment” (ibid.).

Sometimes, it is not only the relationship of goodness to beauty that is called into question, but beauty itself; the categories of beautiful and not-beautiful become confused as the horrible and the disgusting, in addition to the evil, are valorized on an aesthetic level. Describing something as horrible or disgusting is more of an aesthetic judgment than a moral one and it is thus even more of a contradiction in terms to associate such qualities with beauty, whether in recategorizing them as beautiful or rejecting the aesthetic supremacy of beauty itself and replacing it with the horrible qua horrible. The “beauty of the Medusa” that fascinated the early Romantics, as described by Mario Praz in The Romantic Agony, is an example of the former approach; beauty and poetry could be extracted from “base and repugnant” materials, and a masochistic pleasure was felt in mingling beauty with horror, death, and sadness that expressly so that it would be tainted and corrupted—an accursed beauty was all the more delectable for having been subjected to what the frères Goncourt called “faisandage.” Beauty is adulterated, perhaps amalgamated, but it is still beauty.

Genet, on the other hand, rejected the framework upon which beauty was based, allowing the abject to exist on its own terms. Nachman says that Genet “finds beauty everywhere, particularly in that which is most loathsome and repugnant; he imposes on the perceptible the demands of his fancy”; but that is not quite right. Ugliness is not beauty to Genet, but it is valued the way others value beauty; filth is not cleanliness, but it is exulted in as filth; and so on. He achieves a total inversion not only of moral but also of aesthetic values when he writes, with masturbatory appreciation, of his lover Salvador’s homeliness, or of the vermin infesting them both: “Les poux nous habitaient. [Ils] étaient le seul signe de notre prosperité, de l’envers même de la prosperité, mais il était logique qu’en faisant à notre état opérer un rétablissement qui le justifiât, nous justifions du même coup le signe de cet état. Devenus aussi utiles pour la connaissance de notre amenuisement que les bijoux pour la connaissance de ce qu’on nomme le triomphe, les poux étaient précieux. Nous en avions à la fois honte et gloire.”

Since dandyism in its prototypical clothing-based sense is a visible system of signs, it becomes interesting to ask: is it the signifier or the signified that changes? Are Baudelaire’s “fleurs du mal” identical to regular flowers apart from their “mal”—is their beauty the same? Or do they have a qualitatively different beauty, an evil beauty that is greater than the sum of its parts? When Genet compares convicts in French Guiana to flowers in the opening lines of Journal du voleur, he does so by invoking flowers’ conventional qualities of organic fragility and pastel inoffensiveness: “Le vêtement des forçats est rayé rose et blanc. Si, commandé par mon cœur l’univers où je me complais, je l’élus, ai-je le pouvoir au moins d’y découvrir les nombreux sens que je veux: il existe donc un étroit rapport entre les fleurs et les bagnards. La fragilité, la délicatesse des premières sont de même nature que la brutale insensibilité des autres [emphasis in original].” To return to what Carassus calls the “signe privilégié”: do dandies change the meaning of the clothing they wear, creating garments that are les vêtements du dandysme in the same way that Huysmans’ and perhaps also Baudelaire’s flowers are ontologically distinct fleurs du mal? Or is the meaning of any given element of their toilette fixed, but the toilette itself subject to disruptions of meaning as the dandy either employs completely novel clothing or wears familiar clothing in a novel way—similar to Genet’s vision of convicts as unalteredly delicate flowers?

The dandy’s revolt, however, goes beyond the anomie that comes from an embrace of the beautiful at the expense of the good; if these impersonal aesthetic questions were all there were to dandyism, then the figure of the dandy himself would be superfluous: he would be reduced to a disembodied mind contemplating a painting in a museum. But the dandy (even as an ideal) is not an abstraction, nor does he deal in abstractions: he is thoroughly embodied and thoroughly representational, formed as much by doing and being as by thinking and feeling. “Le dandysme,” Barthes says in “Le dandysme et la mode,” “n’est […] pas seulement une éthique […] mais aussi une technique. C’est l’union de l’une et de l’autre qui fait le dandy, et c’est évidemment la seconde qui est garante de la première.”

What are the ethical and technical principles that organize the dandy’s self-fashioning? First, there is the attitude that Baudelaire calls “la supériorité aristocratique de [l’]esprit,” but which can come from the lumpenproletariat as well as from the aristocracy: “What Genet has done that is remarkable is to eroticize the underworld; his aesthete’s hatred comes from below rather than from above the social order” (Nachman). The dandy criminal and the dandy aristocrat, both from “useless” classes, are united in their disdain for work and for bourgeois practicality, morality and vulgarity (ibid.). More displays of interpersonal unpleasantness ensue: Baudelaire describes the dandy as exhibiting “Le meilleur de l’orgueuil humain” and “l’air froid qui vient de l’inébranlable résolution de ne pas être ému,” which Carassus combines into the formula “le plaisir d’étonner et de n’être jamais étonné”; the latter also stresses the importance of “insolence” and “impertinence,” and describes how “les grands champions du dandysme déploient un incontestable talent à se montrer aussi désagréables que possible, sachant fort bien qu’ils en seront d’autant plus recherchés et admirés” (ibid.).

In addition to having a performative bad attitude, the dandy strove to cultivate originality and distinction and to destroy banality and triviality: “C’est avant tout le besoin de se faire une originalité, contenue dans les limites extérieures des convenances” (Baudelaire). This is a rigorous task, which leads Baudelaire to compare dandyism to a religion, Camus to call it “une forme dégradé de l’ascèse,” and Carassus to identify a “tension interne, perpétuel effort d’invention.” According to Barbey d’Aurevilly, says Amann, the dandy “exists only in the masculine singular,” as an independent being with an “ineffable and irreproducible” style, and consequently there is no one-size-fits-all “code of dandyism.” Dandyism is, as Baudelaire says, a “culte de soi-même.” At the same time, there did exist codes that were necessary if not sufficient; Carassus speaks of the importance of being seen at a certain place in a certain time, Baudelaire (in the Brummell school) claims that “la perfection de la toilette consiste-t-elle dans la simplicité absolue, qui est, en effet, la meilleure façon de se distinguer,” and Barthes says the key to dandyism is in varying the details of a uniform template, which is why fashion killed dandyism: “La Mode a exterminé toute singularité pensée du vêtement, en prenant tyranniquement en charge sa singularité institutionnelle.” Mass appeal kills dandyism just as easily as universal repulsiveness.

            There is a certain self-reflexive quality to this originality and this cult of the self. The dandy is both subject and object, both artist and work of art: “The writer creates his image on the page, but his writing also shapes his vision of himself. Similarly, the dandy-artist expresses himself through his dandy-persona but is also transformed by the image he creates. To put it another way, the dandy’s clothing volleys back and forth between the expressive and the formative functions of dress; it is alternately the mirror and the maker of the man” (Amann). The question arises, then, whether the dandy as object is an object only to himself, or to others as well. Is dandyism in the eye of the beholder—the other beholder, who is not oneself—or does it come from within? Is one still a dandy if one is not found to be elegant by others, or if one does not succeed at “surprising” (which is, according to Carassus, as important as “never being surprised”)? Aestheticism, if not dandyism per se, certainly founds itself on interiority and subjectivity, on a retreat inward; Des Esseintes has no need for other people in the private universe creates in À rebours, nor does Genet: “Aesthetes like Genet long to remain in a world of their own. They sleepwalk through life disdaining the vulgarity of the commonplace. But to prevent the real world from impinging on the world which they have constructed, they must isolate themselves from their fellows who would otherwise trespass on their reveries” (Nachman). Still, if dandyism requires a greater degree of interaction with the gaze of others—and there does seem to be a consensus that no dandy can truly be an island—a paradox arises: in order to be distinct and original, it is necessary to compare yourself to and define yourself against others; your meaning exists relative to others’ meaning.

             Carassus believes that the dandy cheerfully resolves this paradox through an artistic sleight of hand: “Le dandy refuse ce dilemme: son succès dépend de l’effet produit sur autrui, mais cet effet, il lui appartient de le produire à son gré et sans avoir recours aux mérites devant lesquels s’incline habituellement la société.” He calls this prest(idigit)ation “le triomphe du rien,” explaining that “Le dandy n’attend rien ni d’une œuvre, ni d’une haute fait, ni d’une fonction; vers sa personne seule, livrée à ses propres ressources, doivent monter les encens […] Le coup du maître du dandy consiste à transformer le négatif en positif. Il fonde son pouvoir sur des valeurs réputées futiles, sur tout ce que la société feint de considérer comme accessoire et, par le seul fait qu’il s’impose, il rend dérisoires les mérites consacrées.” By harnessing the power of the empty set, the dandy sidesteps the problem of having to strive for others’ admiration; according to Jean Lemaître (cited by Carassus), “il fait croire à ce qui n’existe pas.” By investing the void with value, he regains his independence.

Camus is more pessimistic. He defines revolt as a combination of saying “no” to the undesired and “yes” to the desired, then asserts that the dandy exhibits the former (a rejection of intrusion) without the latter (an “adhésion entière et instantanée à une certaine part de lui-même”). The dandy does not “[transforme] le négatif en positif,” as Carassus claims; the negative remains negative, with all the anguish that entails: “Le dandy crée sa propre unité par des moyens esthétiques. Mais c’est une esthétique de la singularité et de la négation. ‘Vivre et mourir devant un miroir,’ telle était, selon Baudelaire, la devise du dandy. Elle est cohérente, en effet. Le dandy est par fonction un oppositionnel. Il ne se maintient que dans le défi.” Nor does the dandy have a joyful creative energy at his disposal, what Carassus calls “la création à partir de rien”; his performance is more of a compulsion, a series of frantic gesticulations in front of a mirror. “La frénésie,” says Camus, “est l’envers de l’ennui […] Seul le cri fait vivre.” This “cri” is very far removed from the semiological magic trick used by Carassus’ dandies; it is sterile and thanatotic. Camus’ dandy has not tamed the void.

Camus’ metaphysical vision of dandyism is based in a romantic context. He connects the dandy to Milton’s Satan and to the Byronic hero, and asserts that the dandy, not the revolutionary, is the “image la plus originale” of romanticism. Caught in fatality, doomed to be melancholic, he is unable to arrive at the good because it has been monopolized and corrupted by an unjust God; but in rejecting God, he loses his “cohérence” and is forced to find the meaning with which to build himself up again. However, in doing this he must constantly maintain the opposition which defines him, or else cease to exist: “Le dandy se rassemble, se forge une unité, par la force même du refus. Dissipé en tant que personne privée de règle, il sera cohérent en tant que personnage. Mais un personnage suppose un public; le dandy ne peut se poser qu’en s’opposant. Il ne peut s’assurer de son existence qu’en la retrouvant dans le visage des autres. Les autres sont le miroir.” Needless to say, as the mirror/others are the means by which he maintains the opposition that defines his existence, he cannot lose their attention; he is thus forced to provoke, to innovate, to surprise: “Le dandy est forcé d’étonner toujours. Sa vocation est dans la singularité, son perfectionnement dans la surenchère. Toujours en rupture, en marge, il force les autres à le créer lui-même, en niant leurs valeurs.” Without a mirror, he disappears: “Il joue sa vie, faute de pouvoir la vivre. Il la joue jusqu’à la mort, sauf aux instants où il est seul et sans miroir. Être seul pour un dandy revient à n’être rien.” More vulnerable than a vampire, he does not have the immortality that allows him to exist without a reflection.

And yet—the appel du vide is strong. What if he were to be swallowed up by it? Even the negation that threatens the dandy may feed his imagination. Death may put an end to dandyism, but the idea of death does not. The most dandyste mode of death, aside from perhaps some kind of exotic torture, is undoubtedly the guillotine; this relationship is summed up in the following way by Patrick Wald Lasowski in Guillotinez-moi!: Précis de décapitation: “Le Christ porte sa croix. Le dandy s’avance avec son échafaud.” In addition to illustrating his point with an ekphrasis of dandy necks, cravats and collars, he repeats the following anecdote: according to the Goncourt brothers, Baudelaire appeared at a café “sans cravate, le col nu, la tête rasée, en vraie toilette de guillotiné” after Les Fleurs du mal was censored. Camus asserts that the “héritage du romantisme” is “pris en charge” by Lacenaire and Baudelaire, not Hugo, because they are “poètes du crime.” I would add that in the shadow of crime lurks the guillotine. Lacenaire tells us in his memoirs that before being executed for real, he was guillotined in his dreams: “Un lien invisible exista entre moi et l’affreuse machine.” The “lien invisible” between Lacenaire and the guillotine is also a “lien invisible” between either dandyism and death or dandyism and “le triomphe du rien,” depending on whether one agrees with Camus’ or Carassus’ analysis of the paradox.

            The figure of the dandy is transgressive on multiple axes, and these axes have an aesthetic dimension. In his revolt against bourgeois taste, the social order, political authority, traditional morality and even the word of law, he passes through different realms of expression and experience reflective of the binary oppositions with which dandyism is inflected: public/private, interior/exterior, subject/object, self/other, ideal/real, intangible/material. Rendered unstable and volatile by his internal contradictions, he cannot sustain too heavy a gaze and will vanish from existence before allowing himself to be grasped. Those who reflect on him may easily “s’écarter de la première et banale acception” (Carassus), but the dandy cannot be fully assimilated into any of the different movements—romantic, aesthetic, decadent—that lay claim to him. Although admired, feared, and deplored by many, he can never truly belong to anyone.

[local-gloom-boy-blog]

Selon la rumeur, Buzz sur maison de couleur blanche

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[mugen-lusk-blog]

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