#not that it can be a delicacy in places that are not ohio

[byneddiedingo]

Adam Driver and Golshifteh Farahani in Paterson (Jim Jarmusch, 2016) Cast: Adam Driver, Golshifteh Farahani, Barry Shabaka Henley, Rizwan Manji, William Jackson Harper, Chasten Harmon, Sterling Jerens, Method Man. Masatoshi Nagase. Screenplay: Jim Jarmusch. Poems by Ron Padgett. Cinematography: Frederick Elmes. Production design: Mark Friedberg. There have been lots of movies about poets. Some of them, like Jane Campion's 2009 film about John Keats, Bright Star, are even good. But when have we ever seen a movie about poetry, let alone one as good as Jim Jarmusch's Paterson? It's an homage of sorts to William Carlos Williams, who is perhaps the greatest claim to fame for the city of Paterson, N.J., and especially to his minimalist meditations on the quotidian: celebrations of things like refrigerated plums and white chickens beside a rain-glazed wheelbarrow. The protagonist of Paterson (which is also the title of Williams's not-so-minimalist long poem) is Paterson, a bus driver in Paterson. He, too, writes poems about ordinary things such as Ohio Blue Tip matchboxes. His wife, Laura (who, as we are reminded, shares a name with the subject of Petrarch's sonnets), designs textiles with black-and-white patterns and longs to be a country-music singer and to start a cupcake business. They have a funny-clever-mischievous bulldog named Marvin. If all this sounds terribly cutesy, it doesn't feel that way while you're watching it. (No, I shouldn't speak for everyone. Let's just say it didn't feel that way for me.) It's kept grounded by Jarmusch's treatment of his characters, by a tinge of melancholy perhaps, or a sense that we're living in one of Jarmusch's urban constructs -- a Paterson of the imagination, like the Memphis or New Orleans or Cleveland Jarmusch imagined in his earlier films, places that look like the real thing but aren't. There are moments when Paterson gets sentimental, but it never gets mushy -- it gets Jarmuschy. It celebrates the poetic imagination that can find an emotional world in a familiar detail, as when Paterson, on one of his nighttime visits to the neighborhood bar, passes a laundromat where Method Man is composing a rap (or however you say it -- this is not my scene) to a beat provided by the slosh of a washing machine. The film would be nothing without surefooted direction, but it also benefits immeasurably from Adam Driver's sensitive, funny performance and from the delicacy of the interplay between him and Golshifteh Farahani as Laura. Watch, for example, the way Paterson struggles not to offend Laura after she serves him a brussels-sprout-and-cheddar-cheese pie for dinner and tries to beguile him into a compliment on her creation. Nothing really terrible happens in Paterson: A gun is pulled in a bar by a frustrated lover, but it turns out to be a toy; some guys in a passing car warn Paterson, who is walking Marvin, that bulldogs are prime targets for dognapping, but it seems to be just a warning and not a threat; Paterson's bus breaks down, causing him an anxious moment because he feels responsible for his passengers, but help arrives. The big calamity of the film occurs near the end: Laura has constantly urged Paterson to make photocopies of the poems he keeps in manuscript in his notebook, but before he can do this, Marvin, who seems to be jealous of anything not centered on him (he growls whenever Paterson and Laura kiss), chews up the notebook. Paterson is dejected by the loss of the poems, but an encounter with a Japanese professor* who is visiting the city to pay homage to Williams reminds him that the poetic imagination is universal and indestructible. (It also helps that the professor gives Paterson a fresh notebook.) *Played by Masatoshi Nagase, who was the young Japanese tourist in Jarmusch's Mystery Train (1989).

[onenettvchannel]

FOLLOW-UP REPORT with THIS JUST IN: 'IShowSpeed' teases final 3rd Day in South East Asia tour, while visiting Day 2 in GenSan with 'Manny Pacquiao' outplays to 2-0 in Mini-Exhibition Home Boxing and Friendly Chess Match [#OneNETnewsEXCLUSIVE]

(Written by Rhayniel Saldasal Calimpong / Freelanced News Writer, Online Media Reporter and News Presenter of OneNETnews)

GENERAL SANTOS, SOUTH COTABATO -- Continuing the South East Asia tour, following after the first trip on Day 1 in 'Bonifacio Global City, Taguig' as one Ohio-native variety and veteran male YouTuber 'IShowSpeed', whose real name as 'Mr. Darren Jason Watkins Jr.' goes to General Santos City in South Cotabato of Mindanao region, setting to face off a highly anticipated mini-exhibition match and friendly chess match against retired boxing legend and former congressional senator "Mr. Manny Dapidran 'PacMan' Pacquiao", embarking on its way to its disclosed resident place.

Starting off first for the night, massive crowds on locals were extremely crazy of excitement on Thursday night (September 12th, 2024). He explored personally at a local night market, where he bought a cheap and unlicensed 'One Piece' anime shirt for PHP300 (approximately U$D5.40). Then, he pay a visit at the basketball court and passing by on-foot, to the famous fast-food chain 'Mang Inasal'.

On his way in 'Pendatun Avenue', he immediately tried 'balut' from a street vendor (a traditional Filipino delicacy consisting of fertilised chicken eggs that are eaten from the shells) on this same night. After bravely eating the balut egg, IShowSpeed is taking a short police escort to the van, and on its way to the Pacquiao's mansion.

During the Philippine trip in online broadcasting, the YouTube LIVE broadcast experienced occasional lags every few to several minutes at a time, since he was travelled from Mindanao, likely due to poor internet service in the area, which affected the live feed quality in some telcos like Philippine Long Distance Telephone Company (PLDT) and Smart Communications as an example, for those having Pocket WiFi(s) or mobile data with subscription promos.

Quarter minutes later from driving, IShowSpeed recently arrived at a luxurious mansion of Mr. Manny Dapidran 'PacMan' Pacquiao, which boasts a private karaoke theater, expensive vehicles, and even, he owned a basketball court, where you can play your local basketball teams in South Cotabato. His collaboration with Pacquiao marks a significant highlight of the night. The family groups of 'Team Pacquiao' are on tour for a male American variety and veteran YouTuber, which currently featured on this video-sharing platform (owned by Google's Alphabet).

Mr. Pacquiao is an 8-Division World Boxing Champion, who has been retired from professional boxing since late-September 2021, and in politics for his congressional senate role since late-June 2022, but is still active in various exhibition matches and philanthropic activities. He adds a new sporting role for basketball alone. The decision to spar with 'IShowSpeed', fascinated both the world of boxing and that of YouTube as online fans witnessed the action at home.

In front of over 200,000 live viewers on YouTube, IShowSpeed faced Pacquiao in a mini-exhibition match. During this encounter, Pacquiao floored him down twice for a knockout: once with a playful punch to the arm and another time during their sparring session. The duo also engaged in a friendly chess match to end its mini-exhibition night, using his own leather chess board from the retired boxer, leaving Pacquiao won with a checkmate. Final result overall is 2 for Pacquiao and 0 for IShowSpeed. The american variety YouTuber and retired pro-boxer later sat down elsewhere in the house and ate balut.

Before the stream ended, within several minutes before 10pm, since he was started exactly at 6:45pm (GenSan local time)… IShowSpeed visited the local Jollibee store (a popular fast-food chain in the country), here in 'National Land Settlement Administration Road' in 'National Highway corner Nisa Road, Barangay Lagao', this said city and province. He critically commented on our news team that he is better than Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC).

As he concluded on Day 2 in Philippine trip… IShowSpeed announced exclusively to OneNETnews, his upcoming plans at Day 3 to either visit Davao City in Mindanao region, or heading last in the Visayas region in Bacolod City, Dumaguete City (Negros Island Region for both Negros Occidental and Negros Oriental), Cebu City or Siquijor; shortly after reaching 29.5 million subscribers. If didn't push through on Day 3, he is moving along early to its next country to travel, as part of the South East Asia tour.

Because of this, it was due to extremely insisted public demand and requesting online fans or in-person that warns all the Cebuano people with a heartfelt plea to remain calm to ensure smoother live streaming and online broadcasting with respect: "So, I love you all boys, I love the Philippines, I appreciate to you all. But when I come back, please just chill and tone it down, so I can actually stream it LIVE. I love your energy but, just to be chill first and listen, when I tell your stuff", IShowSpeed concluded.

General Santos Mayor named 'Ms. Lorelie Geronimo Pacquiao' acknowledged that IShowSpeed came to Mindanao to support local authorities with medium-rare security and crowd control; adding an official stamp to his quite memorable Philippine journey on Day 2.

As IShowSpeed prepares to spend his 3rd final day in the country, speculations have turned to where the trip will head next, be it to another Philippine city or another country, along his Southeast Asian tour tomorrow on Friday the 13th (September 13th, 2024). Philippines' visit has entertained millions of viewers, and at the same time, has showcased the warm Filipino hospitality and experience waiting for all, who were travelled himself in the country.

SCREENGRAB COURTESY: IShowSpeed via YT LIVE VIDEO

This follow-up news report is brought to you by PRIME Sports Drink and EXL Makabuhay Plus. Available in leading supermarkets and pharmacies in the Visayas & Mindanao.

SOURCE: *https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4DvCG9Nhlk [Referenced YT LIVE VIDEO via IShowSpeed] *https://www.youtube.com/post/UgkxVAElSGNHxL-t6_-HhjG2JEMsMugC_szT [Referenced YT Captioned Post via IShowSpeed] *https://lifestyle.inquirer.net/516628/ishowspeed-draws-massive-crowd-in-manila-and-bgc-forced-to-end-stream/ [Referenced News Article via Philippine Daily Inquirer] *https://www.sportskeeda.com/us/streamers/news-ishowspeed-appear-alongside-manny-pacquiao-philippines-irl-livestream [Referenced News Article via Sportskeeda] *https://www.spin.ph/life/people/ishowspeed-urges-maniacal-filipino-fans-to-respect-his-boundaries-a4858-20240912 [Referenced News Article via Sports Interactive Network PH] and *https://www.gmanetwork.com/entertainment/celebritylife/news/21484/the-crazy-and-memorable-moments-of-ishowspeed-in-the-philippines/photo/ [Referenced News Article via GMA News]

-- OneNETnews Online Publication Team

[ezcater]

It’s National Barbecue Month! 3 Ways to Celebrate with Office Catering

Whenever a workplace announces they’re going to host a barbecue catered lunch for the team, you know everyone is going to put that day on their calendar. No one wants to miss barbecue day! Barbecue is a culinary staple in many parts of the US—and it’s a cuisine beloved by millions. This May, you can celebrate National Barbecue Month. Because why not?

Barbecue is a diverse cuisine with signature styles from region to region—and it can be spectacularly good everywhere you go, from North Carolina to Central Texas. Barbecue also lends itself to office catering. So, if you're craving the good stuff this month, don’t hesitate to make it happen. Here’s how you can celebrate barbecue with office catering. Go All Out with Catering Packages for the Team A lot of caterers offer individually packaged meals for business orders. At the same time, many caterers specializing in barbecue also offer catering packages—full spreads featuring their finest smoked meats and sides. This makes it easy to go all out for the team and get all the food you need in one fell swoop. Those catering OKC barbecue lunches for the team can find catering packages at Clark Crew BBQ in Oklahoma City. Get a big tray of deliciousness with The Big Tray featuring two racks of ribs, two pounds of brisket, two pounds of chopped pork, one pound of smoked sausage, and a variety of sides and cornbread. When your team has earned it, you can reward them in smoky style. Order Barbecue Delicacies for Everyone, Including Vegetarians There’s a good chance your workplace has a diverse set of tastes and dietary needs. When you think of barbecue, one word that doesn’t usually come to mind is “vegetarian.” But you can be inclusive while enjoying a full spread of delicious barbecue. Nashville has some amazing barbecue places. For anyone catering Nashville businesses, Central BBQ knows what’s up. You can get the Portabella Mushroom Lunch or the No Meat Nachos Boxed Lunch. Non-meat options are becoming more popular in barbecue. Many restaurants are experimenting with meat alternatives, like mushrooms, to great success. Get Saucy! For a lot of people, barbecue isn’t complete without sauce. Of course, depending on where you are, people will have different perspectives on sauces, dry rubs, and so on. But for the moment, let’s focus on the sauce experience. If you want to have a little office fun, when you order barbecue catering, order it with a wide selection of sauces to try. See which one wins over the crowd. Catering Columbus Ohio team lunches? One place you can get a selection of sauces is Pecan Penny’s (a highly-rated barbecue joint on Main Street in Columbus). Not only do they have complete catering packages, but they also have a selection of distinct sauces, like their Goldie Sauce (mustard-based sauce) and the Kurt Sauce (vinegar-based sauce)—along with others! About ezCater Is your company looking for a reliable catering partner? Order food from ezCater. They’ve partnered with over 100,000 restaurants and caterers across the country, and ezCater is ready to serve your business no matter where you are. Use ezCater’s web-based platform to order top-tier Portland catering for your Portland-area company. Hosting a corporate event in Dallas? Use ezCater to start catering Dallas events, lunches, meetings, and more. ezCater also offers a host of tools so you can create a food program for your company. ezCater makes it easy to order regular lunch catering for a small business with a single location or a large business with dozens of locations. ezCater opens a host of food possibilities for companies just like yours. Celebrate your team with an order of barbecue from https://www.ezcater.com/ Original Source: https://bit.ly/3pjBcIy

[tom-at-the-farm]

Living for this reddit mycology post because like, yeah. My thoughts exactly. I, too, get weirdly defensive of fungus in media which is why I think I couldn't really get into Mexican Gothic

[gleekto]

Fic: Unsolicited Advice (11/?)

Summary: Blaine and Kurt are 22 and living in New York City. Blaine is in a stale relationship. Kurt likes to have his bachelor fun. They haven’t met yet.

Just your standard coffee shop meet cute…but in a drugstore, in the condom aisle.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Unsolicited Advice - Part 11 - Knit (Blaine POV)

Blaine gives himself a final once over - tightest white henley short sleeved shirt he owns, perfectly tailored dark blue jeans with cuffs, red shoes for flare. No bowtie - tonight he can breathe. One last thing before he exits the house. He takes out his phone.

Blaine: Are you going to Vibe tonight?

It feels like way too long waiting by the door as the three dots on his phone appear and disappear and then appear again.

Kurt: I am.

Blaine: I’ll be there.

When Blaine walks in the door at 9pm, he finds Kurt where he was the last time - at the bar, with a Sea Breeze, talking to the bartender. Joe, he thinks Kurt said his name was. The bartender sees Blaine making his way over before Kurt does and he gestures, looking at Kurt with a knowing nod. Kurt turns on his barstool and waves him over.

“Hi,” Blaine says as he pulls up on the stool beside him.

“Hi,” Kurt smiles. He looks happy to see him.

“We broke up.” Blaine’s voice cracks slightly as he says it but he also smiles. He is definitely happy to see Kurt. “Just yesterday.”

“Broke up? What - really?” Kurt is surprised even if Blaine isn’t. He looks at him with concern. “Do you want to go somewhere else - and talk or eat cheesecake or something?” They are friends which makes Blaine feel warm. And also he hopes that won’t change. He and his condom-advice giving stranger in the night. They’re at this place.

“And spoil your fun Saturday evening?” 

“I’m not missing anything,” Kurt shrugs, seemingly ready to pay his tab and scoot.

“No seriously. I wanted to come here. This break up should have happened months ago.” Blaine pauses and looks at Kurt trying to convey his sincerity.  “I’m okay. Honestly. I just want to have a night out. Everything I haven’t been doing for way too long,” Blaine says meaningfully and Kurt looks at him skeptically. “You can buy me a drink?”

Kurt still looks uncertain but nods. “Done. Gin and tonic like last week?”

Blaine shakes his head, “Something more fun.” 

...

Is it weird for him to feel so giddy after a break up? The last few months of his relationship had been boring, and the last few weeks frustrating. He’s sure that Stephen was feeling it too - Their reluctance to inhabit each other’s worlds, the snippy fights. But they kept falling back into their routine with a text of ‘Wanna grab dinner tonight?’ or “Movie at my place?” The last few times they had just watched a movie and Blaine wouldn’t even stay over, making excuses about an early class or late night studying or something or other. Surprisingly it was Sam, Blaine’s roommate, who unintentionally gave the final push. - “Blaine, I know this is unsolicited advice, but don’t you think it’s time to end this thing?”

The minute the words were out, Blaine could hear himself exhale. It was like permission. “Yes.” There was no hesitation. “We haven’t been connected for months. And lately we’ve been getting on each other’s nerves.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded as if it was obvious.  “That and the fact that you can’t stop talking about that random guy from the drugstore.”

“Kurt? No,” Blaine shakes his head dismissively. “What do you-” So maybe Blaine had mentioned him once or twice. He had to make sure Sam knew how lucky he was that he was getting a home cooked breaded chicken dinner - even the guy in the grocery store had remarked. And of course it was newsworthy that they ran into each other again. And that Kurt was in theatre too. And from Ohio. Maybe Sam had a point.

Time for Blaine to face the music. 

They met for coffee at the generic Starbucks near campus. Not their usual place. Not at their usual time. They each had a class in fifteen minutes. When Blaine walked in and saw Stephen’s knitted brow, he knew that Stephen knew. When it was over, they hugged only slightly awkwardly and Blaine stepped outside. The cold December air splashed his face. It was over.

...

“For fun I recommend Sex in the Driveway?” Blaine’s eyebrows rise in amusement. “Peach schnapps, sprite, various other fruity delicacies.”

“I could never say no to Sex in the Driveway.” He loves that Kurt is still flirting. Loves that he can flirt back. “Sounds perfect.”

Kurt hands him his drink and raises his own glass. “To friendship,” Kurt says cautiously, but sincerely.

“To new beginnings,” Blaine says instead, and looks Kurt directly in the eyes as he clinks their glasses together.

[drnikolatesla]

Nikola Tesla’s Thoughts On the Soul and Life After Death

Tesla’s reasoning are the thoughts of a practical man of science, who has not only conducted experiments, but deep mental consideration to the question of immortality. Tesla was destined by his parents at an early age to enter the clergy, but the inventive genius, inherited from his mother, took him into the realm of science. Most of his life was spent in deep meditation to the question of the soul and life after death. His conclusions on the subjects will most definitely not run parallel with most others, but are indeed food for thought.

Here are 6 quotes made by Nikola Tesla:

1. When a child is born, its sense organs are brought in contact with the outer world. The waves of sound, heat and light beat against its feeble body, its sensitive nerve fibres quiver, the muscles contract and relax in obedience—a gasp, a breath, and in this act a wonderful little engine, of structure, is hitched to the wheelwork or the universe. Left to itself the engine stops; it has no power to draw energy from Nature’s inexhaustible store.

“The little engine moves and works, changes size and shape, performs more and more varied operations, becomes sensitive to more and more different influences, and now there begins to manifest itself in it a mysterious force. It becomes capable of responding to stimuli of a more subtle nature and of drawing, for its own use, energy from the environment. Gradually the engine has been transformed into a being possessed of intelligence, which perceives, discerns, does like others of its kind.

“The experiences multiply, the knowledge increases, the discernment becomes keener, the human being responding to the faintest influences, is awakened to the consciousness of Nature and its grandeur, and in its breast there is kindled a desire to imitate Nature, to create, to work itself the wonders it perceives.

”But the exercise of this power does not satisfy the mind, which rises to still higher, undefinable perceptions, not of this world, and inspired by them the artist, the inventor and the man of science give expression to the longing of the soul.

(“Shows How Men Of The Future May Become As Gods.” NEW YORK HERALD . December 30, 1900.)

2. “That an aggregation of impressions, thoughts and feelings having no materiality, and vaguely designated as mind, or soul, should be substance susceptible of quantitative determination is altogether too absurd for discussion.

“The change however, which takes place in the human body during its awful transition from life to death is a great subject for scientific investigation which may possibly lead to important results. If the experiments of Massachusetts physicians are to be at all seriously considered, it is only in this respect.

“I could not help being struck by the fact that men of a scientific caliber sufficiently large to undertake measurements requiring the greatest delicacy and skill, should not be correspondingly resourceful in devising the apparatus for the purpose. A scale responding to the weight of one tenth of an ounce is not a fit instrument for weighing the human soul.

“It is not less astonishing that such trained observer should have overlooked a trivial cause responsible for the seeming lightening of the body. I use this term designedly, for accepting the exudations which have been taken into consideration there was no loss of substance in death.

“When the rigor mortis sets in there is an increase of volume for various reasons. Just to give a rough idea I shall assume that the living body, weighing a hundred and sixty pounds, had filled a space of three cubic feet. The air in a sick room may weigh about fourteen ounces per cubic feet. Half an ounce of the air would consequently occupy a space of sixty-two cubic inches, and that would be only one percent of the original volume of three cubic feet. As will readily be seen, a very slight general deformation of the body, scarcely perceptible, is adequate to explain the puzzling observation. The sudden tipping of the scale demonstrates nothing except the coarseness of the instrument. Had the balance been very sensitive, owing to the resistance of the air, the platform would have ascended slowly.“

–Nikola Tesla

(“Scientists Doubt The Human Soul Was Weighed.” New York World, March 17, 1907.)

3. “Since time immemorial the most profound thinkers have tried to lift the veil that hides the beyond. I have read thousands of volumes of literature and thought for years in the hope that I might get some kind of evidence to show that death is not the end. But all in vain. To me the universe is simply a marvelous mechanism, and the most complex forms of human life, as human beings, are nothing else but automatic engines, controlled by external influence. Through incessant observation I have so convinced myself of the truth of this that I cannot perform any act or even conceive a thought without locating at once the external stimulus that prompted it.

“A forceful argument in support of the existence of a creative agent is made of the law, order and harmony perceptible everywhere. But it must not be forgotten that Kant’s reasoning and conclusion in this respect are irrefutable. According to this philosopher, the conception of fitness has been created in the speculative mind of men, which thus admires a miracle wrought by itself.

“Granted a planetary system, it is absolutely inevitable that in the course of eons such organized beings as we are will evolve. The cooling of the hot masses results in a precipitation of water, and under the influence of the sun’s rays heliotropic action takes place and life is started. Through chemical and other agents and continuous adjustment complex mechanisms come into being, and these ultimately develop into structures of marvelous complexity with capacities of response to the faintest stimulae from the environment.

“When we realize this as a fact we begin to grasp the great idea of Buddha–that self is an illusion. Indeed, we are nothing but waves in space and time which when dissolved exist no more.

“There is this to be said, however, that science without hope is not satisfactory, and unless one has some ideals he cannot achieve happiness. The religious is the most lofty ideal, and it seems that the great reformers who, ages ago, laid down rules of conduct were right in their conclusions that a peaceful existence and a continued onward march of man on this globe is essentially dependent on the conception of a God.

“I have read Mr. Burbank’s statement in which he expresses an opinion shared by most natural philosophers, but one must not be too rash in contradicting the conclusions reached by countless men of genius who spent their lives in endeavors to ascertain the destiny of the human race. A single individual, however well informed and capable, may be partially unaware of if not utterly blind to evidences of a certain kind, which might be quite sufficient for others. This is the reason why I am distrustful of my own findings. Possibly Mr. Ford, who I understand is accepting old traditions, may be closer to the truth than such men as Burbank and myself.

“I have searched during many years for some process or means to test the possibility of future existence by scientific experiment, and I have devised one, which, to my great disappointment, has failed. But perhaps some more skillful experimenter might succeed if I suggest to him the course. To put it briefly, it is this:

“Our bodies are composed of molecules of various elements, harmoniously united. Do these molecules retain any after-effect when the body is dissolved? To ascertain this take, say, two molecules of hydrogen from the body of an individual and also one molecule of oxygen. Furthermore, provide another molecule of oxygen taken from some other body. Now place the two molecules of hydrogen so they can combine with the oxygen, and if they prefer that molecule of oxygen with which they were previously united, then reincarnation is proved. For, though it may take ages and ages, ultimately the molecules which constituted that body will get together again, just as in a vast city individuals from a distant land finally meet and establish close contact.”

(“After Death — WHAT?” Lima News, Lima, Ohio, March 14, 1926.)

4. “We are all automatons obeying external influences. We are entirely under the control of agents that beat on our senses from all directions of the outside world. Being merely receivers from the outside, it is a very important question how good the receivers are—some are sensitive and receive accurately. Others are sluggish and their reception is blurred. The individual who is a better machine has so much greater chance of achieving success and happiness. An individual who is an offender of law is a machine in which one or another organ has been deranged, so that the responses are no longer accurate.

“There is no chance in nature, although the modern theory of indeterminacy attempts to show scientifically that events are governed by chance. I positively deny that. The causes and effects, however complex, are intimately linked, and the result of all inferences must be inevitably fixed as by a mathematical formula.

“I also absolutely deny the existence of individuality. It took me not less than twenty years to develop a faculty to trace every thought or act of mine to an external influence. We are just waves in time and space, changing continuously, and the illusion of individuality is produced through the concatenation of the rapidly succeeding phases of existence. What we define as likeness is merely the result of the symmetrical arrangement of molecules which compose our body.”

“How about the soul - the spirit?” he was asked.

“Ah,” he exclaimed, “but there is no soul or spirit. These are merely expressions of the functions of the body. These life functions cease with death and so do soul and spirit.

“What humanity needs is ideals. Idealism is the force that will free us from material fetters.”

(“Tesla Seeks to Send Power to Planets.” New York Times, July 11, 1931.)

5. “One of the most fundamental and also one of the saddest facts in human life is well brought out in a French proverb which, freely translated, means:

‘If Youth had the knowledge and Old Age the strength of doing.’

Our condition of body and mind in old age is merely a certificate of how we have spent our youth. The secret of my own strength and vitality today is that in my youth I led what you might call a virtuous life.

"I have never dissipated. When I was a young man I understood well the significance of that old French proverb, although I doubt that I had even heard it then. But I seemed to have a clear understanding while still young that I must control my passions and appetites if I wanted to make some of my dreams come true.

(“Tremendous New Power Soon To Be Released.” By Carol Bird. Charleston Daily Mail, Charleston, West Virginia, Page 40. September 10, 1933.)

6. “To me, the universe is simply a great machine which never came into being and never will end. The human being is no exception to the natural order. Man, like the universe, is a machine. Nothing enters our minds or determines our actions which is not directly or indirectly a response to stimuli beating upon our sense organs from without. Owing to the similarity of our construction and the sameness of our environment, we respond in like manner to similar stimuli, and from the concordance of our reactions, understanding is barn. In the course of ages, mechanisms of infinite complexity are developed, but what we call “soul ” or “spirit,” is nothing more than the sum of the functionings of the body. When this functioning ceases, the “soul” or the “spirit” ceases likewise.“

(“A Machine to End War.” Liberty Magazine, February 9, 1935.)

–Nikola Tesla

[joseluisbenavides]

Balut Artist Salon Featuring Jose Luis Benavidez + JeeYeun Lee

February 29 @ 1:00 pm - 2:30pm

Jose Luis Benavides will share his current research into Aztalan State Park in southeastern Wisconsin. Queering geopolitical landscapes in dialogue with archeologists and the poet Alurista, his investigation into ancient Mexica codexes converges with contemporary Chicano political identity around the origins of the Aztecs from their mythical homelands of Aztlán.

JeeYeun Lee will discuss work in progress on “Whose Lakefront,” a participatory project that physically marks unceded native land in the heart of downtown Chicago and asks viewers to reflect on their relationship to history, belonging, and indigeneity.

About the Artists

Jose Luis Benavides is a queer Latinx artist, filmmaker, and educator. He recently held his first solo show at Terremoto – La Postal, Mexico City, MX (2018). His work has screened at festivals including CinHomo – Muestra Internacional de Cine y Diversidad Sexual, Valladolid, ES (2019), Cadence Video Poetry Festival, Seattle, US (2019), and HOMOGRAFÍA/HOMOGRAPHY, Halles Saint-Géry, Brussels, BE (2019). Benavides programs a video-art screening, Sin Cinta Previa: Latinx & Queer Archive Video Series, which he was awarded a POWER Project grant from the Art Leaders of Color Network (2018) and a Propeller Fund grant (2020).

JeeYeun Lee is an interdisciplinary artist, writer, and activist based in Chicago. Through performance, objects, and socially engaged art, her work explores dynamics of power, connection, violence, and resistance. Her most recent projects use walking as a medium to witness the histories of colonization and racism that shape place. Her work has been shown in Chicago, Detroit, Santa Fe, Ohio, Missouri, and France. She has worked with social justice and community-based organizations for over twenty-five years in immigrant rights, economic justice, LGBTQ issues, and domestic violence. She holds an M.F.A. in Fiber from Cranbrook Academy of Art, M.A. in Ethnic Studies from the University of California at Berkeley, and B.A. in Linguistics from Stanford University.

The Balut Artist Salon brings together two artists to present and dialogue with an audience about an artwork they are currently working on. Art making, to some extent, is a solitary activity yet the artwork itself is enfolded within a social and historical sphere. This salon is an attempt to open up the art making process.

About Balut Named after the famed delicacy of the Philippines, balut conjures up exoticism, otherness, tradition, social gatherings, adventure, risk taking, and poverty. Curious thrill seekers chalk up the challenge to taste the partially developed duck fetus in hopes to simultaneously induce and subdue gag reflexes or find an authentic foreign experience. In reality, balut is quite pedestrian. It is a cheap street food for the poor and a quick snack for laborers before a long commute home. And it goes well with knocking back some beers with mga kaibigan. Balut, also spelled balot, is “wrapped” in the Tagalog language and when shelled each distinct section of the egg can be seen folded into the other, forming an interconnected mass.

This artist salon is a wrapping of sorts. Artists are invited to share partially formed projects or inklings and dialogue with an audience to co-mingle diverse perspectives and co-constitute material and ideas.

Source: http://poboxcollective.us/event/balut-artists-salon-2/

[junglewrites]

Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee - Book Review

In my experience, when people think of Native American peoples, they tend to think they know all you need to know: they got screwed over, it was bad, but it’s done and over with now.

But that’s not all there is to it, and Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee by Dee Brown will illustrate a more complete picture of the past, and how the past has shaped our present. If you’ve ever wondered in despair how the United States could have come to what it is today and seek a genuine answer, I don’t think you’ll find it without including this book in your search for truth and knowledge.

This is not a happy story. It isn’t meant to be. Nor is it one that ends. But even more than being a recounting of the terrible atrocities white people have committed against their fellow humans, I think this is a story of the fragility of truth and history, and the importance of voice. It is amazing that these stories can even be told at all hundreds of years after they happened, and throughout the books 400+ pages, I never stopped marveling at the preciousness and delicacy of our history, and lamenting the depths of our depravity.

If you live in the United States, in reading this I think you will be hard-pressed to find at least one name in the book you won’t recognize. Having lived in both Colorado and Ohio, my own personal history is saturated with the names of people in this book. I was dismayed to know that some of our most beautiful places were named for terrible people, and both humbled and horrified to know that the cities and places I frequent were the sites of violence against Native Americans. Going into these places, you’ll find art sculptures along the road of horses, hearts, fish- but nothing to indicate the truth of what happened there, what really should be recognized about that place.

Even more surprising was seeing the names of reservations and Native Americans I have seen before- not on local maps, but in a faraway place. I saw them in the museum of Norrköping, Sweden. The museum was located at the edge of a river, in fact right beside the city’s famous Work History Museum. I used to walk by it several times a week just for the pleasure of walking by the river, and one summer before my parents were due to visit me, I saw a sign hanging outside the museum about a Native American exhibition that would be there. Surprised to find something about Native Americans so far away from America, I made a point of going to the exhibition. There were a few artifacts. But mostly it was photographs, photographs taken at the Rosebud Sioux Reservation in South Dakota, by a Swedish-American photographer named John Alvin Anderson. I haven’t seen his pictures anywhere else, and it’s hard to find more than just a handful on the internet.

Reading this book was an exercise in fighting the surreal. The quotes by the Native Americans in this book are all things I had not read before... in a strictly word-for-word sense. But the things they spoke of were largely not new. They were things that people still rage about today, and it’s heartbreaking to realize that after all these years, very little has changed, and the changes that have taken place were won with tooth, nail, blood, sweat, and never should have been anything that needed to be fought over to begin with.

More than that, it is knowing that the full extent of so many of the languages and cultures of these people have been obliterated and lost to time. It is not just our history that is fragile, but the way we speak, think, live, celebrate, mourn. The world has lost so much color, texture, perspective, life, knowledge, for the loss of these people, all because a handful of ignorant and hateful individuals failed at the very basics of what it is to be decent and human. And imagine, we put the same exact kind of people in power today. Imagine- the same thing could happen to you, if it isn’t happening already.

Astoundingly, there is humor in this book. Rarely will the author insert a wry comment- no, this humor comes from the Native Americans who faced these horrors and still somehow found the strength to laugh in the face of their aggressors. Sometimes literally. For some, it didn’t seem like they could cope any other way.

Not only that, the humanity of these people who were treated so inhumanely is sobering and heartbreaking. It is disturbing to know how many tribes were truly willing to simply share their land even after having been lied and betrayed so many times, and completely understandable how many of them refused to even before seeing this behavior. It is clear from a historical and modern perspective that the Native Americans were between a rock and a hard place, whether they chose to acquiesce or resist. Even those who forfeited their lands were not treated well, or with kindness. Their suffering did not end there, and that is absolutely a lesson that should be remembered today.

Although the book doesn’t delve into the intricacies of the different tribes much, through the accounts given by Native Americans it does give some very general and cursory insight. I will preface this by saying that this is the first book on Native American history I have read and am highly aware that this is a very limited representation of a wide group of peoples, and it is viewing a small portion of their history and that this observation could be an inaccurate one. However, I found it interesting that many of the Native Americans in the book seemed to make some of the choices they made, or were coerced into making them, because they did not want to be perceived as “womanly.” Even back then, and even in a different culture, many men still thought it was unmanly to cry, or to try and reach a compromise instead of for a rifle. In the end though, neither compromise nor bullets saved anyone.

I wouldn’t say this is my favorite book. But I think it’s definitely the most important book I’ve read thus far, as the thread of it can be tracked through almost every other social issue I’ve been reading about. It broke my heart, and I hope you’ll find the courage to pick it up and break yours a bit, too.

[laylaskitchen]

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[unsettlingshortstories]

Cannibalism In The Cars

Mark Twain (1868)

I visited St. Louis lately, and on my way West, after changing cars at Terre Haute, Indiana, a mild, benevolent-looking gentleman of about forty-five, or maybe fifty, came in at one of the way-stations and sat down beside me. We talked together pleasantly on various subjects for an hour, perhaps, and I found him exceedingly intelligent and entertaining. When he learned that I was from Washington, he immediately began to ask questions about various public men, and about Congressional affairs; and I saw very shortly that I was conversing with a man who was perfectly familiar with the ins and outs of political life at the Capital, even to the ways and manners, and customs of procedure of Senators and Representatives in the Chambers of the national Legislature. Presently two men halted near us for a single moment, and one said to the other:

"Harris, if you'll do that for me, I'll never forget you, my boy."

My new comrade's eye lighted pleasantly. The words had touched upon a happy memory, I thought. Then his face settled into thoughtfulness-- almost into gloom. He turned to me and said,

"Let me tell you a story; let me give you a secret chapter of my life-- a chapter that has never been referred to by me since its events transpired. Listen patiently, and promise that you will not interrupt me."

I said I would not, and he related the following strange adventure, speaking sometimes with animation, sometimes with melancholy, but always with feeling and earnestness.

THE STRANGER'S NARRATIVE

"On the 19th of December, 1853, I started from St. Louis on the evening train bound for Chicago. There were only twenty-four passengers, all told. There were no ladies and no children. We were in excellent spirits, and pleasant acquaintanceships were soon formed. The journey bade fair to be a happy one; and no individual in the party, I think, had even the vaguest presentiment of the horrors we were soon to undergo.

"At 11 P.m. it began to snow hard. Shortly after leaving the small village of Welden, we entered upon that tremendous prairie solitude that stretches its leagues on leagues of houseless dreariness far away toward the jubilee Settlements. The winds, unobstructed by trees or hills, or even vagrant rocks, whistled fiercely across the level desert, driving the falling snow before it like spray from the crested waves of a stormy sea. The snow was deepening fast; and we knew, by the diminished speed of the train, that the engine was plowing through it with steadily increasing difficulty. Indeed, it almost came to a dead halt sometimes, in the midst of great drifts that piled themselves like colossal graves across the track. Conversation began to flag. Cheerfulness gave place to grave concern. The possibility of being imprisoned in the snow, on the bleak prairie, fifty miles from any house, presented itself to every mind, and extended its depressing influence over every spirit.

"At two o'clock in the morning I was aroused out of an uneasy slumber by the ceasing of all motion about me. The appalling truth flashed upon me instantly--we were captives in a snow-drift! 'All hands to the rescue!' Every man sprang to obey. Out into the wild night, the pitchy darkness, the billowy snow, the driving storm, every soul leaped, with the consciousness that a moment lost now might bring destruction to us all. Shovels, hands, boards--anything, everything that could displace snow, was brought into instant requisition. It was a weird picture, that small company of frantic men fighting the banking snows, half in the blackest shadow and half in the angry light of the locomotive's reflector.

"One short hour sufficed to prove the utter uselessness of our efforts. The storm barricaded the track with a dozen drifts while we dug one away. And worse than this, it was discovered that the last grand charge the engine had made upon the enemy had broken the fore-and-aft shaft of the driving-wheel! With a free track before us we should still have been helpless. We entered the car wearied with labor, and very sorrowful. We gathered about the stoves, and gravely canvassed our situation. We had no provisions whatever--in this lay our chief distress. We could not freeze, for there was a good supply of wood in the tender. This was our only comfort. The discussion ended at last in accepting the disheartening decision of the conductor, viz., that it would be death for any man to attempt to travel fifty miles on foot through snow like that. We could not send for help, and even if we could it would not come. We must submit, and await, as patiently as we might, succor or starvation! I think the stoutest heart there felt a momentary chill when those words were uttered.

"Within the hour conversation subsided to a low murmur here and there about the car, caught fitfully between the rising and falling of the blast; the lamps grew dim; and the majority of the castaways settled themselves among the flickering shadows to think--to forget the present, if they could--to sleep, if they might.

"The eternal night-it surely seemed eternal to us-wore its lagging hours away at last, and the cold gray dawn broke in the east. As the light grew stronger the passengers began to stir and give signs of life, one after another, and each in turn pushed his slouched hat up from his forehead, stretched his stiffened limbs, and glanced out of the windows upon the cheerless prospect. It was cheer less, indeed!-not a living thing visible anywhere, not a human habitation; nothing but a vast white desert; uplifted sheets of snow drifting hither and thither before the wind--a world of eddying flakes shutting out the firmament above.

"All day we moped about the cars, saying little, thinking much. Another lingering dreary night--and hunger.

"Another dawning--another day of silence, sadness, wasting hunger, hopeless watching for succor that could not come. A night of restless slumber, filled with dreams of feasting--wakings distressed with the gnawings of hunger.

"The fourth day came and went--and the fifth! Five days of dreadful imprisonment! A savage hunger looked out at every eye. There was in it a sign of awful import--the foreshadowing of a something that was vaguely shaping itself in every heart--a something which no tongue dared yet to frame into words.

"The sixth day passed--the seventh dawned upon as gaunt and haggard and hopeless a company of men as ever stood in the shadow of death. It must out now! That thing which had been growing up in every heart was ready to leap from every lip at last! Nature had been taxed to the utmost--she must yield. RICHARD H. GASTON of Minnesota, tall, cadaverous, and pale, rose up. All knew what was coming. All prepared--every emotion, every semblance of excitement--was smothered--only a calm, thoughtful seriousness appeared in the eyes that were lately so wild.

"'Gentlemen: It cannot be delayed longer! The time is at hand! We must determine which of us shall die to furnish food for the rest!'

"MR. JOHN J. WILLIAMS of Illinois rose and said: 'Gentlemen--I nominate the Rev. James Sawyer of Tennessee.'

"MR. Wm. R. ADAMS of Indiana said: 'I nominate Mr. Daniel Slote of New York.'

"MR. CHARLES J. LANGDON: 'I nominate Mr. Samuel A. Bowen of St. Louis.'

"MR. SLOTE: 'Gentlemen--I desire to decline in favor of Mr. John A. Van Nostrand, Jun., of New Jersey.'

"MR. GASTON: 'If there be no objection, the gentleman's desire will be acceded to.'

"MR. VAN NOSTRAND objecting, the resignation of Mr. Slote was rejected. The resignations of Messrs. Sawyer and Bowen were also offered, and refused upon the same grounds.

"MR. A. L. BASCOM of Ohio: 'I move that the nominations now close, and that the House proceed to an election by ballot.'

"MR. SAWYER: 'Gentlemen--I protest earnestly against these proceedings. They are, in every way, irregular and unbecoming. I must beg to move that they be dropped at once, and that we elect a chairman of the meeting and proper officers to assist him, and then we can go on with the business before us understandingly.'

"MR. BELL of Iowa: 'Gentlemen--I object. This is no time to stand upon forms and ceremonious observances. For more than seven days we have been without food. Every moment we lose in idle discussion increases our distress. I am satisfied with the nominations that have been made--every gentleman present is, I believe--and I, for one, do not see why we should not proceed at once to elect one or more of them. I wish to offer a resolution--'

"MR. GASTON: 'It would be objected to, and have to lie over one day under the rules, thus bringing about the very delay you wish to avoid. The gentleman from New Jersey--'

"MR. VAN NOSTRAND: 'Gentlemen--I am a stranger among you; I have not sought the distinction that has been conferred upon me, and I feel a delicacy--'

"MR. MORGAN Of Alabama (interrupting): 'I move the previous question.'

"The motion was carried, and further debate shut off, of course. The motion to elect officers was passed, and under it Mr. Gaston was chosen chairman, Mr. Blake, secretary, Messrs. Holcomb, Dyer, and Baldwin a committee on nominations, and Mr. R. M. Howland, purveyor, to assist the committee in making selections.

"A recess of half an hour was then taken, and some little caucusing followed. At the sound of the gavel the meeting reassembled, and the committee reported in favor of Messrs. George Ferguson of Kentucky, Lucien Herrman of Louisiana, and W. Messick of Colorado as candidates. The report was accepted.

"MR. ROGERS of Missouri: 'Mr. President The report being properly before the House now, I move to amend it by substituting for the name of Mr. Herrman that of Mr. Lucius Harris of St. Louis, who is well and honorably known to us all. I do not wish to be understood as casting the least reflection upon the high character and standing of the gentleman from Louisiana far from it. I respect and esteem him as much as any gentleman here present possibly can; but none of us can be blind to the fact that he has lost more flesh during the week that we have lain here than any among us--none of us can be blind to the fact that the committee has been derelict in its duty, either through negligence or a graver fault, in thus offering for our suffrages a gentleman who, however pure his own motives may be, has really less nutriment in him--'

"THE CHAIR: 'The gentleman from Missouri will take his seat. The Chair cannot allow the integrity of the committee to be questioned save by the regular course, under the rules. What action will the House take upon the gentleman's motion?'

"MR. HALLIDAY of Virginia: 'I move to further amend the report by substituting Mr. Harvey Davis of Oregon for Mr. Messick. It may be urged by gentlemen that the hardships and privations of a frontier life have rendered Mr. Davis tough; but, gentlemen, is this a time to cavil at toughness? Is this a time to be fastidious concerning trifles? Is this a time to dispute about matters of paltry significance? No, gentlemen, bulk is what we desire--substance, weight, bulk--these are the supreme requisites now--not talent, not genius, not education. I insist upon my motion.'

"MR. MORGAN (excitedly): 'Mr. Chairman--I do most strenuously object to this amendment. The gentleman from Oregon is old, and furthermore is bulky only in bone--not in flesh. I ask the gentleman from Virginia if it is soup we want instead of solid sustenance? if he would delude us with shadows? if he would mock our suffering with an Oregonian specter? I ask him if he can look upon the anxious faces around him, if he can gaze into our sad eyes, if he can listen to the beating of our expectant hearts, and still thrust this famine-stricken fraud upon us? I ask him if he can think of our desolate state, of our past sorrows, of our dark future, and still unpityingly foist upon us this wreck, this ruin, this tottering swindle, this gnarled and blighted and sapless vagabond from Oregon's hospitable shores? Never!' [Applause.]

"The amendment was put to vote, after a fiery debate, and lost. Mr. Harris was substituted on the first amendment. The balloting then began. Five ballots were held without a choice. On the sixth, Mr. Harris was elected, all voting for him but himself. It was then moved that his election should be ratified by acclamation, which was lost, in consequence of his again voting against himself.

"MR. RADWAY moved that the House now take up the remaining candidates, and go into an election for breakfast. This was carried.

"On the first ballot--there was a tie, half the members favoring one candidate on account of his youth, and half favoring the other on account of his superior size. The President gave the casting vote for the latter, Mr. Messick. This decision created considerable dissatisfaction among the friends of Mr. Ferguson, the defeated candidate, and there was some talk of demanding a new ballot; but in the midst of it a motion to adjourn was carried, and the meeting broke up at once.

"The preparations for supper diverted the attention of the Ferguson faction from the discussion of their grievance for a long time, and then, when they would have taken it up again, the happy announcement that Mr. Harris was ready drove all thought of it to the winds.

"We improvised tables by propping up the backs of car-seats, and sat down with hearts full of gratitude to the finest supper that had blessed our vision for seven torturing days. How changed we were from what we had been a few short hours before! Hopeless, sad-eyed misery, hunger, feverish anxiety, desperation, then; thankfulness, serenity, joy too deep for utterance now. That I know was the cheeriest hour of my eventful life. The winds howled, and blew the snow wildly about our prison house, but they were powerless to distress us any more. I liked Harris. He might have been better done, perhaps, but I am free to say that no man ever agreed with me better than Harris, or afforded me so large a degree of satisfaction. Messick was very well, though rather high-flavored, but for genuine nutritiousness and delicacy of fiber, give me Harris. Messick had his good points--I will not attempt to deny it, nor do I wish to do it but he was no more fitted for breakfast than a mummy would be, sir--not a bit. Lean?--why, bless me!--and tough? Ah, he was very tough! You could not imagine it--you could never imagine anything like it."

"Do you mean to tell me that--"

"Do not interrupt me, please. After breakfast we elected a man by the name of Walker, from Detroit, for supper. He was very good. I wrote his wife so afterward. He was worthy of all praise. I shall always remember Walker. He was a little rare, but very good. And then the next morning we had Morgan of Alabama for breakfast. He was one of the finest men I ever sat down to handsome, educated, refined, spoke several languages fluently a perfect gentleman he was a perfect gentleman, and singularly juicy. For supper we had that Oregon patriarch, and he was a fraud, there is no question about it--old, scraggy, tough, nobody can picture the reality. I finally said, gentlemen, you can do as you like, but I will wait for another election. And Grimes of Illinois said, 'Gentlemen, I will wait also. When you elect a man that has something to recommend him, I shall be glad to join you again.' It soon became evident that there was general dissatisfaction with Davis of Oregon, and so, to preserve the good will that had prevailed so pleasantly since we had had Harris, an election was called, and the result of it was that Baker of Georgia was chosen. He was splendid! Well, well--after that we had Doolittle, and Hawkins, and McElroy (there was some complaint about McElroy, because he was uncommonly short and thin), and Penrod, and two Smiths, and Bailey (Bailey had a wooden leg, which was clear loss, but he was otherwise good), and an Indian boy, and an organ-grinder, and a gentleman by the name of Buckminster--a poor stick of a vagabond that wasn't any good for company and no account for breakfast. We were glad we got him elected before relief came."

"And so the blessed relief did come at last?"

"Yes, it came one bright, sunny morning, just after election. John Murphy was the choice, and there never was a better, I am willing to testify; but John Murphy came home with us, in the train that came to succor us, and lived to marry the widow Harris--"

"Relict of--"

"Relict of our first choice. He married her, and is happy and respected and prosperous yet. Ah, it was like a novel, sir--it was like a romance. This is my stopping-place, sir; I must bid you goodby. Any time that you can make it convenient to tarry a day or two with me, I shall be glad to have you. I like you, sir; I have conceived an affection for you. I could like you as well as I liked Harris himself, sir. Good day, sir, and a pleasant journey."

He was gone. I never felt so stunned, so distressed, so bewildered in my life. But in my soul I was glad he was gone. With all his gentleness of manner and his soft voice, I shuddered whenever he turned his hungry eye upon me; and when I heard that I had achieved his perilous affection, and that I stood almost with the late Harris in his esteem, my heart fairly stood still!

I was bewildered beyond description. I did not doubt his word; I could not question a single item in a statement so stamped with the earnestness of truth as his; but its dreadful details overpowered me, and threw my thoughts into hopeless confusion. I saw the conductor looking at me. I said, "Who is that man?"

"He was a member of Congress once, and a good one. But he got caught in a snow-drift in the cars, and like to have been starved to death. He got so frost-bitten and frozen up generally, and used up for want of something to eat, that he was sick and out of his head two or three months afterward. He is all right now, only he is a monomaniac, and when he gets on that old subject he never stops till he has eat up that whole car-load of people he talks about. He would have finished the crowd by this time, only he had to get out here. He has got their names as pat as A B C. When he gets them all eat up but himself, he always says: 'Then the hour for the usual election for breakfast having arrived; and there being no opposition, I was duly elected, after which, there being no objections offered, I resigned. Thus I am here.'"

I felt inexpressibly relieved to know that I had only been listening to the harmless vagaries of a madman instead of the genuine experiences of a bloodthirsty cannibal.

[holidays-events]

How Christmas Trees Became a Popular Tradition

By Robert McNamara  Updated May 21, 2019

The husband of Queen Victoria, Prince Albert, gets the credit for making Christmas trees fashionable, as he famously set one up in Windsor Castle in the late 1840s. Yet there are reports of Christmas trees appearing in the United States years before the royal Christmas tree made a splash in American magazines.

One classic yarn is that Hessian soldiers had been celebrating around a Christmas tree when George Washington caught them by surprise at the battle of Trenton.

The Continental Army did cross the Delaware River to surprise the Hessians on Christmas night 1776, but there is no documentation of a Christmas tree having been present.

Another story is that a Hessian soldier who happened to be in Connecticut set up America's first Christmas tree in 1777. While that's accepted local lore in Connecticut, there also doesn't seem to be any documentation of the story.

 A German Immigrant and His Ohio Christmas Tree  

In the late 1800s a story circulated that a German immigrant, August Imgard, had set up the first American Christmas tree in Wooster, Ohio, in 1847. The story of Imgard appeared often in newspapers as a holiday feature. The basic version of the tale was that Imgard, after arriving in America, was homesick at Christmas. So he cut down the top of a spruce tree, brought it indoors, and decorated it with handmade paper ornaments and small candles.

In some versions of the Imgard story he had a local tinsmith fashion a star for the top of the tree, and sometimes he was said to have decorated his tree with candy canes.

There actually was a man named August Imgard who lived in Wooster, Ohio, and his descendants kept the story of his Christmas tree alive well into the 20th century. And there is no reason to doubt that he decorated a Christmas tree in the late 1840s. But there is a documented account of an earlier Christmas tree in America.

 First Documented Christmas Tree in America  

A professor at Harvard College in Cambridge, Massachusetts, Charles Follen is known to have set up a Christmas tree in his home in the mid-1830s, more than a decade before August Imgard would have arrived in Ohio.

Follen, a political exile from Germany, became known as a member of the abolitionist movement. The British writer Harriet Martineau visited Follen and his family at Christmas 1835 and later described the scene. Follen had decorated the top of a spruce tree with small candles and presents for his son Charlie, who was three years old.

The first printed image of a Christmas tree in America seems to have occurred a year later, in 1836. A Christmas gift book titled A Strangers Gift, written by Herman Bokum, a German immigrant who, like Charles Follen, was teaching at Harvard, contained an illustration of a mother and several small children standing around a tree illuminated with candles.

 Earliest Newspaper Reports of Christmas Trees  

The Christmas tree of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert became known in America in the late 1840s, and in the 1850s reports of Christmas trees began appearing in American newspapers.

A newspaper report described "an interesting festival, a Christmas tree," which was viewed in Concord, Massachusetts on Christmas Eve 1853. According to the account in the Springfield Republican, "all the children of the town participated" and someone dressed as St. Nicholas distributed presents.

Two years later, in 1855, the Times-Picayune in New Orleans published an article noting that St. Paul's Episcopal Church would be setting up a Christmas tree. "This is a German custom," the newspaper explained, "and one that has been of late years imported into this country, to the great delight of the young folks, who are its especial beneficiaries."

The article in the New Orleans newspaper offers details indicating that many readers would be unfamiliar with the concept:

"A tree of evergreen, in size adapted to the dimensions of the room in which it is displayed, is selected, the trunk and branches of which are to be hung with brilliant lights, and laden from the lowest bought to the topmost branch, with Christmas gifts, delicacies, ornaments, etc., of every imaginable variety, forming a perfect storehouse of rare presents from old Santa Claus. What indeed can be more gratifying to children than to take them where their eyes will grow big and bright, feasting on such a sight on the eve of Christmas."

A Philadelphia newspaper, The Press, published an article on Christmas Day 1857 which detailed how various ethnic groups had brought their own Christmas customs to America. It said: "From Germany, in particular, comes the Christmas tree, hung all round with gifts of all sorts, interspersed with crowds of small tapers, which illuminate the tree and excite general admiration."

The 1857 article from Philadelphia whimsically described Christmas trees as immigrants who had become citizens, stating, "We are naturalizing the Christmas tree."

And by the time, an employee of Thomas Edison created the first electric Christmas tree in the 1880s, the Christmas tree custom, whatever its origins, was permanently established.

There are a number of unverified stories about Christmas trees in the White House in the mid-1800s. But it seems the first documented appearance of a Christmas tree wasn't until 1889. President Benjamin Harrison, who always had the reputation of being one of the less interesting presidents, was nonetheless very interested in Christmas celebrations.

Harrison had a decorated tree placed in an upstairs bedroom of the White House, perhaps mostly for the entertainment of his grandchildren. Newspaper reporters were invited to see the tree and wrote fairly detailed reports about it.

By the end of the 19th century, Christmas trees had become a widespread tradition throughout America.

https://www.thoughtco.com/christmas-trees-19th-century-tradition-1773913

[drnikolatesla]

Nikola Tesla’s Thoughts On the Soul and the Afterlife

1. Tesla’s reasoning is the reasoning of a practical man of science, who has not only given laboratory tests but deep mental consideration to the question of immortality. There is a deal of the esthetic about Tesla, and as he talks his deep-set eyes seem to be looking into the far distance. Born of a Greek church clergyman, in Smiljan in Serbia, it was intended that the young Tesla follow theology as a profession, but the inventive genius, inherited from his mother, took him into the realm of science. But all his life–he is now 68 years old–he has given deep thought to the question of life after death. He has come to no hasty conclusions, and his remarkable statement might be said to be a brief summarizing of years of thought.

“Since time immemorial the most profound thinkers have tried to lift the veil that hides the beyond. I have read thousands of volumes of literature and thought for years in the hope that I might get some kind of evidence to show that death is not the end. But all in vain. To me the universe is simply a marvelous mechanism, and the most complex forms of human life, as human beings, are nothing else but automatic engines, controlled by external influence. Through incessant observation I have so convinced myself of the truth of this that I cannot perform any act or even conceive a thought without locating at once the external stimulus that prompted it.

“A forceful argument in support of the existence of a creative agent is made of the law, order and harmony perceptible everywhere. But it must not be forgotten that Kant’s reasoning and conclusion in this respect are irrefutable. According to this philosopher, the conception of fitness has been created in the speculative mind of men, which thus admires a miracle wrought by itself.

“Granted a planetary system, it is absolutely inevitable that in the course of eons such organized beings as we are will evolve. The cooling of the hot masses results in a precipitation of water, and under the influence of the sun’s rays heliotropic action takes place and life is started. Through chemical and other agents and continuous adjustment complex mechanisms come into being, and these ultimately develop into structures of marvelous complexity with capacities of response to the faintest stimulae from the environment.

“When we realize this as a fact we begin to grasp the great idea of Buddha–that self is an illusion. Indeed, we are nothing but waves in space and time which when dissolved exist no more.

“There is this to be said, however, that science without hope is not satisfactory, and unless one has some ideals he cannot achieve happiness. The religious is the most lofty ideal, and it seems that the great reformers who, ages ago, laid down rules of conduct were right in their conclusions that a peaceful existence and a continued onward march of man on this globe is essentially dependent on the conception of a God.

“I have read Mr. Burbank’s statement in which he expresses an opinion shared by most natural philosophers, but one must not be too rash in contradicting the conclusions reached by countless men of genius who spent their lives in endeavors to ascertain the destiny of the human race. A single individual, however well informed and capable, may be partially unaware of if not utterly blind to evidences of a certain kind, which might be quite sufficient for others. This is the reason why I am distrustful of my own findings. Possibly Mr. Ford, who I understand is accepting old traditions, may be closer to the truth than such men as Burbank and myself.

“I have searched during many years for some process or means to test the possibility of future existence by scientific experiment, and I have devised one, which, to my great disappointment, has failed. But perhaps some more skillful experimenter might succeed if I suggest to him the course. To put it briefly, it is this:

“Our bodies are composed of molecules of various elements, harmoniously united. Do these molecules retain any after-effect when the body is dissolved? To ascertain this take, say, two molecules of hydrogen from the body of an individual and also one molecule of oxygen. Furthermore, provide another molecule of oxygen taken from some other body. Now place the two molecules of hydrogen so they can combine with the oxygen, and if they prefer that molecule of oxygen with which they were previously united, then reincarnation is proved. For, though it may take ages and ages, ultimately the molecules which constituted that body will get together again, just as in a vast city individuals from a distant land finally meet and establish close contact.”

–Nikola Tesla.

“After Death — WHAT?” Lima News, Lima, Ohio, March 14, 1926.

2. “That an aggregation of impressions, thoughts and feelings having no materiality, and vaguely designated as mind, or soul, should be substance susceptible of quantitative determination is altogether too absurd for discussion.

“The change however, which takes place in the human body during its awful transition from life to death is a great subject for scientific investigation which may possibly lead to important results. If the experiments of Massachusetts physicians are to be at all seriously considered, it is only in this respect.

“I could not help being struck by the fact that men of a scientific caliber sufficiently large to undertake measurements requiring the greatest delicacy and skill, should not be correspondingly resourceful in devising the apparatus for the purpose. A scale responding to the weight of one tenth of an ounce is not a fit instrument for weighing the human soul.

“It is not less astonishing that such trained observer should have overlooked a trivial cause responsible for the seeming lightening of the body. I use this term designedly, for accepting the exudations which have been taken into consideration there was no loss of substance in death.

“When the rigor mortis sets in there is an increase of volume for various reasons. Just to give a rough idea I shall assume that the living body, weighing a hundred and sixty pounds, had filled a space of three cubic feet. The air in a sick room may weigh about fourteen ounces per cubic feet. Half an ounce of the air would consequently occupy a space of sixty-two cubic inches, and that would be only one percent of the original volume of three cubic feet. As will readily be seen, a very slight general deformation of the body, scarcely perceptible, is adequate to explain the puzzling observation. The sudden tipping of the scale demonstrates nothing except the coarseness of the instrument. Had the balance been very sensitive, owing to the resistance of the air, the platform would have ascended slowly.“

–Nikola Tesla

“Scientists Doubt The Human Soul Was Weighed.” New York World, March 17, 1907.

3. “Ah, but there is no soul or spirit. These are merely expressions of the functions of the body. These life functions cease with death and so do soul and spirit.”

“What humanity needs is ideals. Idealism is the force that will free us from material fetters.

–Nikola Tesla

“Tesla Seeks to Send Power to Planets.” New York Times, July 11, 1931.

4. “To me, the universe is simply a great machine which never came into being and never will end. The human being is no exception to the natural order. Man, like the universe, is a machine. Nothing enters our minds or determines our actions which is not directly or indirectly a response to stimuli beating upon our sense organs from without. Owing to the similarity of our construction and the sameness of our environment, we respond in like manner to similar stimuli, and from the concordance of our reactions, understanding is barn. In the course of ages, mechanisms of infinite complexity are developed, but what we call “soul ” or “spirit,” is nothing more than the sum of the functionings of the body. When this functioning ceases, the “soul” or the “spirit” ceases likewise.“

–Nikola Tesla

“A Machine to End War.” Liberty Magazine, February 9, 1935.

[pendragonfics]

But It Must Be Lived Forwards

Guilt Is a Rope That Wears Thin: Chapter One | Chapter Two

Paring: Peter Quill/Reader

Tags: female reader, female pronouns, alien abductions, set after Guardians of The Galaxy Vol. 1 but before Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, baby Groot, mentions of fandoms, outer space, angst, fluff.

Summary: After agreeing to return, the team decides to dock on Terra, leaving the pair of you time to finally slow down enough to grieve for what was left behind on Earth.

Word Count: 2,309

Current Date: 2017-07-04

Your heart is racing even before the doors to the Milano open. It’s like you know this is it; after some convincing to the rest of the crew, and another Galaxy-saving gig later (and an asshole named Ego) you’re in the atmosphere of Earth. Peter and Rocket have landed the ship in the wilderness of upstate New York, in a place where nobody in their right mind would build anything. But still. It’s Earth, and it seems like years since you’ve been here. But the doors are opening, but instead of being greeted by the quiet whistling of wind, the swaying of trees, there are figures.

“Don’t shoot!” Peter raises his hands, the rest of the Guardians following his actions, including you.

But these figures are familiar from what you remember on TV, and taking your Quad Blaster from your belt, you lower it to the floor of the ship, and tentatively step forward. “Not to be a cliché, but we come in peace,” you tell the masked face of the Iron Man himself.

“Last time we had aliens, they didn’t speak English,” the guy with an arrow pointed at your head, Hawkeye notes. “Your accent, you’re from Ohio?”  

You nod. “Yeah, Cheviot, and he’s from Colorado.” You motion to Peter Quill. “But mostly from outer space,” you glance to Gamora, Drax, Groot and Rocket, who all looked a little odd in Earth terms.

Hawkeye nods, and lowers his arrow. “Yeah, they’re good. I grew up in Iowa.”

Captain America waves a hand, essentially shushing the archer from gushing about the glory and advantages of regional living. The blonde all-American cleared his voice, almost making you wonder if the next statement would be a declaration of independence or something, but it was a comment. Simple. “You’re not here for any sinister business?”

Iron Man’s face mask raised, revealing the face of the guy with a tower and a few billion dollars to his name. Rocket gave a laugh, and turning to shush him too, the raccoon strutted out beside you, cocky as always.

“If we were here to raise a little hell, we’d come in with a little more flair, don’t you think?” He snarked Stark.

The woman standing beside him opened her mouth, no words. It was then you realised that these people had never seen a raccoon talk, and that she was the redheaded super spy. Ms. Romanov. You give a wave to her, pushing past Rocket to diffuse the tension. “Hey! I’m a huge fan, I used to have your action figure.” You shoot Rocket a glare, and one to Gamora and Drax as if to say please shut him up before we’re under arrest for being illegal aliens! and add, “Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark, please. We only plan to be here a short while.”

“I am Groot,” Groot speaks up.

Gamora lowers her arms, and crosses them across her. “Yes, Groot, you can put your arms down. Mine are getting tired to, with all this surrender.” Captain America and Iron Man share a glance, not knowing what to make of what they’d just seen, with the green woman speaking to a tree. She motions to Drax, and the rest of the team. “We will take a short while here on your planet, we have many things we need to do in space.”

Drax nods. “We are the Guardians of The Galaxy, and if you do not allow my good friend _____ and Peter to grieve, I will resort to violence.” He stares down the Avengers, his warrior-race instincts taking over again.

“How about we let you off easy?” Iron Man gives an uneasy grin. It’s a somewhat good thing for his wellbeing, not fighting Drax on it. “Go take care of your business, have a holiday.”

Peter mouths some thanks, while you turn to Black Widow once again, “If you’ve got spare time, I’d love to learn some of your tricks!”

---

The Avengers lend you and Peter a Quinjet. Deciding it’s for the best, you leave Drax in charge of Rocket and Groot, and Gamora in charge of them all, staying behind in the Avengers base not too far from where the Milano landed. But you and Peter are flying in stealth mode with Clint manning the aircraft toward Peter’s hometown in Colorado. For the most of it, Hawkeye is silent, tremendously professional. But when Peter cracks a joke, the two of them get along like peanut butter and jelly, leaving you smiling at Star-Lord’s banter.

But before too long, you’re landing in Colorado, the ship landing quietly (a new sensation!) for a change, and following Peter out, to a small building a way out from town. The man who answers the door is elderly, with snow white, thinning hair. But his eyes, they looked just like Peter’s, and teared up at the sight of him.

“Pete?” Mr. Quill asks.

He nods, “Yeah, it’s me, Granpa.” Feeling like a sore thumb, you turn to leave the two by themselves, but Peter takes your hand, and shares a smile with you. “Granpa, this is _____. I ran away from home, and she helped me find my way back.”

The old man smiles, waving you all inside. His house is small, the décor still styled as if the 80’s had never gone and passed, with the La-Z-Boy thatched up in places where the material had worn away, some places worn down, and no patches in place yet. A radio was on the fireplace, playing an old Elvis song, and in the kitchen in the corner, a kettle was whistling.

“You disappeared,” Peter’s grandfather shakes his head, pouring coffee in four mugs. It’s been years since you’ve had a coffee, your mouth watering at the delicacy. Beside you, Clint is silent. “Nobody knew where you went. Had me worried sick for years…”

Peter nods. “Sorry, Granpa,” he looks like he hasn’t ever really thought about the people he left behind when Yondu abducted him. “I –,”

You move to help Mr. Quill with the coffee, pouring milk into Peter’s cup. “Your grandson can’t stay long, I’m sorry,” you tell him softly, making sure he can read your lips. “The stories that Meredith told about Peter’s father, they were true,” you tell him. “We fly among the stars and save people who were left without saviours,” you confess, adding sugar to your cup.

Mr. Quill nods. “I suppose Earth was never going to be enough for you, Pete. You were always fightin’ for good, before you even knew it. Your Mom would be proud of you.” As you all go to take the coffees outside to the front porch to drink on the chairs, Peter smiles. It’s a lovely smile, a true smile. “Love you, Pete.”

---

It’s hard to tear the Quill’s apart, especially from his mother’s urn on the mantelpiece (“Keep Ma safe, Granpa, I’ll come back, I promise,”) but in the afternoon before returning to the state of New York, there’s one more stop. You all land just out of Cincinnati, in the national park. From what intel Clint had on your parents, they were living not too far from your childhood home in Ohio, and all three of you were walking there. Unlike earlier in the day when you exited the Quinjet easily, your feet feel like lead, your stomach heavy, yet feeling empty, hollow.

“Hey,” Peter senses your uneasiness, interlocking his fingers with your own. “Nervous?”

You nod, and expelling a breath you’d been holding in, you whisper, “Did I tell you why he drowned?” Peter shakes his head. “I only got into medical school by scholarships, and all the money was spent on dad. We couldn’t afford to learn to swim,” you swallow, feeling small like a child once again. “There’s a creek down the way, and he’d been hanging with the wrong kind of people. The police I.D.’d the body as him, sure, but he’d been off his face with drugs…I was supposed to be looking out for him that night. He snuck out.”

“We’re here,” Clint beams, looking up from his phone’s map. “Want me to knock, or you?”

“I’ll knock,” Peter offers, releasing your hand to approach the door up the little path. It was nothing like you grew up in, but still, it was a nice place. Nicer than what you put up with. The moment his fingers land on the doorbell, it opens to an unfamiliar face. A woman. “Mrs. _____?”

She laughs. “Ha! I wish.” She flips her hair, her fake nails catching in the synthetic material, and yells, “Martin! Some people here for you!”

There’s a shout back, a thunder of footsteps. “What?”

You wince. You remember your father had a lot of people come through the door, and not all of them were friendly faces. The woman who looked like she owned the place (but probably didn’t) was most likely one of these people. Shouting was a huge part of your childhood, and probably why you strove to be better than your brother, who was never yelled at.

The screen door opens, revealing your father. He doesn’t seem to have aged a single day, despite the grey hairs by his ears, and the tattoo on his collar, peeking out from the singlet. At first, his eyes see Peter, and Clint, and frowns, but then he sees you. “_____?”

You nod.

You notice the crow’s feet on the corner of his eyes, the bags under them, the poor pallor to his skin. You might feel it inside your pitiful heart to offer to stay behind on Earth to make sure he keeps out of trouble. But you’re a Guardian of The Galaxy, and you tend to things greater than your old life, and the thought passes as soon as it comes.

“They said you’d died,” He frowns. “One day at medical school, next…gone.”

You nod once again. “I was abducted.” Deciding to leave the ‘by aliens’ part out, you add, “I didn’t want to come back to see you, but I had to. I keep thinking of Chip.”

His face softens, taking years off his appearance. “I haven’t been the greatest parent, I know. Ever since losing your Mom, I thought I’d never be straight again. Losing Chip almost killed me, but…thinking I lost you?” You’re not sure if there’s a hitch in his voice, or maybe you heard wrong, but he pauses. “Everyone I cared about was gone.”

You feel a tear escape despite your best wishes. “But it was my fault,” you whisper. “If I��d –,”

Your father shakes his head. “I’m a shit father, but one thing I know is you can’t blame yourself. I tried, Lord, I tried. Things happen, sweetie, and sometimes, they’re bad. But not everything is bad. You’re back,” he whispers. “Thank you, merciful Lord.”

You shake your head. “I can’t stay.”

Peter nods. “Your daughter works with me, on a team designed for operations to save civilian lives. She’s a pleasure to work with, sir.” He tells your father.

He raises an eyebrow at this, but doesn’t say a word on that matter. Instead, he turns to Clint, and asks, “You’re the arrows guy from the Avengers, aren’t you too important to be hanging around these ones?” He smiles, throwing you a wink. Your chest flutters, your brain screaming, oh my god my father is proud of me! on repeat.

Clint shakes his head. “No sir. I may be Hawkeye, but to these ones, I’m chauffeur.” He tips his imaginary hat, and adds to the pair of you, “I’ll be back at the bus when you’re ready.”

You smile. “Thank you, Clint.”

---

One day later, you’re off in the air, back on the way to the stratosphere and beyond to the interplanetary life you all led ahead. Drax makes no comment on the lack of outlaws on Earth (something he’s miffed about, since he didn’t get to meet John Stamos or Billy the Kid), and Groot has a potted pine tree beside him in his seat, a souvenir Rocket says he’ll “treasure forever or whatever”, and had made friends with a new Avenger named Wanda, who found him a delight. Gamora had sparred with your idol, and boasted that the redhead was in good form to defend her planet.

Peter and you were silent. He’s piloting, focused. You’re moseying around the record collection they’d shared, trying to find the right music for the team to fight to (it’s surprisingly good for morale). But as you’re flicking through the tapes of The Beatles and Van Halen, he places a hand on your knee.

“You okay?” He asks.

You nod. “Better than okay,” you admit. “Kind of…fantastic.”

Peter grins. “I wasn’t sure. Your thinking face kind of gives off other vibes.”

You laugh. “There’s a word for that on Earth, I think. I can’t remember it.” You pluck out a tape labelled The Clash in the handwriting of Tony Stark. “Play this. Chip always liked them.” He takes the tape, sliding it into the player. “How about you, you okay?”

Peter nods, just as London Calling begins to play. “She’s not just another grave in the ground. As long that I remember her, she’s not gone. She’ll always be in me.” He shakes his head, laughing at his wording. “Sounds pathetic.”

You shake your head. “No, it doesn’t. You’re human, Peter. It’s a part you.” You turn over your shoulder, seeing the other Guardians. Drax has a crossword book he picked up from somewhere, and seems to get the gist of what to do with it. Groot is smiling happily with his potted plant. Rocket is making sure that Groot doesn’t hurt himself, mothering the tiny flora colossus, as always. Gamora is tapping her foot to the beat of the tape. “It’s a part of all of us.”

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