#parabola west

[ginogirolimoni]

Parabola del buon pastore

Una notte dei ladri sconosciuti entrarono nell’ovile di un pastore e rubarono alcuni dei migliori agnelli del suo gregge; il buon pastore appena se ne accorse se ne dispiacque moltissimo, si rattristò, quasi tutti i nuovi nati erano stati portati via e l’alternativa era usare quelli rimasti per le ricorrenze e per i rituali previsti dalla sua cultura e dalla sua religione, oppure venderli per sopravvivere.

Dopo qualche anno un imprevisto lo costrinse ad allontanarsi dal suo gregge, ma fece in modo da affidarlo a persone di sua completa fiducia dietro un lauto compenso promesso loro.

Al suo ritorno il pastore si accorse che le persone avevano venduto a pastori itineranti non soltanto tutti i suoi agnelli, ma anche le pecore migliori e persino il suo unico montone.

Allora si stracciò le vesti e si cosparse il capo di cenere, perse l’appetito per giorni, si disperò, lanciò imprecazioni irripetibili e il suo animo si accese alla vendetta, per questo si armò del coltello con cui sgozzava il bestiame e tagliò la gola a tutti i pastori che l’avevano beffato.

Durante il processo per omicidio  gli fu chiesto come mai non aveva reagito allo stesso modo contro i ladri del primo furto, e lui disse con estrema semplicità che i primi erano ladri, notoriamente conosciuti, che era nella loro natura rubare, e che per quanto grave fosse il loro crimine, la responsabilità del furto era in gran parte loro e in minima parte sua che non aveva vigilato abbastanza: dei ladri non bisogna fidarsi.

Nel secondo caso, quelle persone godevano della sua completa fiducia ed erano da lui state pagate lautamente, egli non si aspettava che lo tradissero in quel modo, per cui il carcere che spetta ai ladri a lui non bastava per punire il crimine, bisognava punire pure la fiducia tradita, e quello solo il suo coltello poteva farlo.

Ora, un ladro che ruba poco o tanto e che fa del ladrocinio il suo mestiere e il suo stile di vita, le persone oneste devono premurarsi, e pretendere che lo Stato li catturi e faccia giustizia.

Ma se un funzionario di Stato, mettiamo il caso di un sindaco, di un presidente di regione, di un politico, di un ministro o di un amministratore, che invece di fare l’interesse dei cittadini, ne tradisce la fiducia e fa gli interessi propri e quelli dei suoi sodali, allora merita una pena ben più gravosa del semplice ladro, anche se hanno rubato entrambi.

Se poi questo funzionario colto con le mani nel sacco, auspicasse delle leggi per farla franca nel caso volesse replicare la sua condotta truffaldina, se ritenesse di aver agito correttamente nonostante intercettazioni telefoniche che lo smentiscono (il versante giudiziario è un’altra cosa, ma se sei stato eletto dai cittadini non rispondi solo alla giustizia delle tue azioni ma anche a chi ti ha dato il voto), se dichiarasse di essere il miglior amministratore in circolazione e che ciò che doveva gestire non è mai stato amministrato meglio: beh, allora si merita di essere preso pure a calci in culo e sputi in faccia.

Nel Far West i ciarlatani e i truffatori venivano cosparsi di melassa e coperti di piume d’uccello, e dovevano attraversare tutta la main street prima di potersela dare a gambe e non farsi più rivedere; i ladri, poi, venivano persino impiccati se recidivi o se ladri di cavalli.

Se siamo in uno stato di diritto il Far west è una barbarie, ma se lo stato di diritto è scomparso e il ladro può circolare liberamente dopo poche settimane dall’arresto e fare dichiarazioni spavalde, spalleggiato dagli amicuzzi, allora il Far West ritorna auspicabile e inevitabile.

[duckprintspress]

Meet Aether Beyond the Binary Contributor S. J. Ralston

We’re entering the final week of the Kickstarter campaign for Aether Beyond the Binary, an anthology of 17 aetherpunk stories starring characters outside the gender binary, and we’re still going strong! As I write this, we’re $3,700 shy of our goal – an amount we definitely can raise, but the more help we get spreading the words about this project, the more people will know it exists, and truly that’s the single biggest barrier to hitting our goals: effectively spread the words. So, if you believe in this project, whether you’re a backer or not, we’d really appreciate you taking a moment to share/reblog/retoot/reskeet our posts about it!

Bluesky

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Thanks for all your support! Now, let’s introduce another of our contributing authors…

About S. J.: S. J. grew up in a distinctly weird, distinctly southern hometown, then hied out West for grad school before landing in Texas, where they currently work as a planetary scientist. They’ve been writing original works and fanfiction since they could hold a pencil semi-correctly, and continue to write both whenever possible (as well as still holding a pencil only semi-correctly). In their clearly copious spare time, S. J. enjoys hiking, tabletop RPGs, jigsaw puzzles, and enthusiastically crappy sci-fi.

Link: Personal Website | Tumblr

This is S. J.’s first time writing with Duck Prints Press. You can read another example of their writing by visiting their website to check out Anglerfish, a horror sci-fi story. 

An Interview with S. J. Ralston

How did you pick the name you create under?

It’s a line from the opening of the Aeneid that’s stuck with me ever since AP Latin in high school: “On account of the mindful wrath of cruel Juno.” It’s a synchesis, where the adjectives have been swapped from where you expect them to be; it’s Juno who is mindful and her wrath that is cruel, but rearranging them in such a way elegantly implies the relentless, vindictive onslaught that is to follow.

What do you consider to be your strengths as a creator?

Dialogue and dread.

What do the phrases “writer’s block” or “art block” mean to you?

The state of wanting to create but not having the intellectual raw materials to do it.

Are you a pantser, a planner, or a planster? What’s your process look like?

I would consider myself a plantser. Typically I start with an IDEA, writ large, center of the page. Then some key scenes will populate around it–dramatic moments, fun bits of dialogue, cool setpieces. At that point I get out my corkboard and red string and start trying to piece everything together, and if I’m lucky, the shape of the story will reveal itself to me. Sometimes it’s the classic parabola of rising and falling action, other times it’s been a ring, a tri-fold posterboard, a descending spiral, or a series of concentric circles. Then I fill in until the structure is complete and hope like hell that I can stick the landing.

What are your favorite tropes?

Found Family, Robots With Feelings, Enemies To Lovers, Destructive Romance, Kirk Summation/The Man In The Room

What are your favorite character archetypes?

Brooding Loner Secretly Just Lonely, Lying For Fun And Profit, Badass With An Obvious Dump Stat, Too Old For This Shit, Taciturn But Bizarre, Himbo

Do you like having background noise when you create? What do you listen to? Does it vary depending on the project, and if so, how?

I make a playlist for almost everything I write that’s longer than a few thousand words. Sometimes it’s for listening to while I’m creating (in that case, it has to be primarily instrumentals or I’ll get distracted), and sometimes it’s just for daydreaming to (in which case, the vibes must be correct, so I can construct AMV’s in my head).

Share five of your favorite books. (You can include why, if you want!)

Feet of Clay by Terry Pratchett – Eerie, funny, and poignant in equal measure; a police procedural done right.

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke – Lush with joy, curiosity, and love, yet still remarkably dark, with an ending that will nestle in your brain forever.

Artemis Fowl: The Opal Deception by Eoin Colfer – Fourth in the series and the absolute pinnacle thereof. A master-class in shit hitting the fan. 

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu – Everyone, down to the most momentary background character, behaves more like *people* than any I’ve ever read before and it’s *disastrous* and I *love* it.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson – The classic of classics. The horror of horrors. The transgenderism of it all.

What are your goals as a creator? 

(1) To write something that’s better on the second read-through than it was on the first, and (2) To write something that stays with the reader.

What’s the best advice you’ve ever received?

When you finish a first draft and you *know* you’ve got something really good, put it down. For a month, six months, a year; until the glow fades, or you’ve fallen in love with whatever you’re writing next. Then come back and re-read that first draft. Take extensive notes, diagram the plot, profile the characters. Notice the holes, redundancies, missed opportunities, and inconsistencies. Then open up a blank document and *start over.*

S. J.’s Contribution to Aether Beyond the Binary

Title: Razzmatazz

Tags: bipoc, body horror, butch, character injury (non-graphic descriptions), classism, dehumanization, eye horror, horror, humans are the villains, mechanic, minor character death, misogyny, murder (accidental), non-binary, non-human character, past tense, sentient construct (magical), third person limited pov

Excerpt: 

The thing was damn near unrecognizable, not just as Marilyn Monroe, but as human. People had tweaked the proportions through the years—amateur artists who couldn’t put down the paintbrush. That kind of thing was bad enough on paper, but seeing it in person made Skipper’s butthole clench.

The dress and the curls were Monroe. The rest was something else.

“Shit my ass off,” Skipper said under his breath.

“Yeah,” said Charlie.

“This gets up and walks around?”

“She does.”

“Shit my ass off.”

Maybe it was a trick of the light, a too-heavy head on a too-thin neck, but the Monroe wasn’t staring across the aisle like the others. It seemed to be looking down at Skipper. It put out waves of dare-you-to-start-some-shit energy.

“Is it because they messed with the proportions?”

“Huh?” said Skipper, pulling out of the Monroe’s tractor beam.

“The reason she moves around so much. Could it be because of…” Charlie gestured to its whole body.

“Hell, maybe,” said Skipper.

The Monroe loomed like a landslide, just waiting for the rain. Skipper had a hammer on his belt. He felt like the Monroe was staring at it. If he broke the case, what then? 

[violant-apologia]

the position of some species in pilgrim's dawn is pretty different to in london...

clay men

more accepted than in london, in large part because of the decent proportion of clay men among the original tracklayers. it's pretty rare to get new clay men moving all the way out west away from polythreme, so they're not that common, but they are welcomed. plus they're usually pretty great at the manual labour the city still requires so much of.

cats

not many cats frequent pilgrim's dawn at all. citizens are very careful with mirrors, so the only cats that tend to live there are ones without prominent place in parabola: exiles and disgraces, a lot of the time. there's a new gang of ginger toms forming in the city's red shadows, though, who see pilgrim's dawn as a new chance, away from the expectations and established hierarchy of greater cat society.

devils

hell doesn't have the same legal OR economic chokehold over pilgrim's dawn as it does london, so the amount of power devils hold as a group is significantly diminished. this results in them being seen more as regular people than in london – they're more likely to hold more commonplace jobs, too. occasionally the brazen brigade will march through the city on their way to the church at burrow, which has become quite an event in pilgrim's dawn.

snuffers

snuffers are not welcome in pilgrim's dawn. london has influential people who work in their favour, and that city still fears them a great deal. pilgrim's dawn has none of these, and has inherited a little of briar's great game anxieties about betrayal on top of that. nobody knows if there actually are any snuffers in pilgrim's dawn, though.

rubbery men

they actually inhabit a similar position to in london; they're viewed with suspicion. the tracklayers are too familiar with the plight of the downtrodden to actually resort to violence, but there's always a sense of tension when rubbery men are around. part of that might be their inability to dance the same terpsichore as humans; bonelessness makes their dances strange and fluid things, compared to the shared and absolute rhythm of the terpsichore.

starved men

starved men are viewed the worst in pilgrim's dawn. something about them absenting themselves from the society that the tracklayers fought so hard to survive in breeds a lot of resentment. plus, they can dance the terpsichore better than humans can if they mould their body to suit it, which also annoys many pilgrims. part of the value of the terpsichore to the citizens is the shared suffering and perserverence it represents and the sense of community that fosters. having people just come down and be great at it without any of the sacrifice is taken by many as personally insulting.

[drdamiang]

HEADING WEST

HEADING WEST

pack my pearl handle quick drsws

I'm heading West

out into the realm

of the good, the bad,

and the ugly

.

following the Sun's parabola

hyperbole

as it rises like a rocket

falls

like a?bomb

seek out that long gone Zorro

California of Senor Thomas

Pynchon

hang around in bars

sit

under the stars

become poet of the backstreet

empty bottle

empty lot

scribe of the land

put a coupld of sweet ,45s

where they will

work best

the future returning to

reshuffle the deck

of the past by

slick assassination

and there.

desert delight

the place where the war was won

all wars

will be won (all wars

the last war from

this moment on)

and here where

the scar of Shiloh ripping

itself asunder

the healed wound of

Antietam tearing

itself apart

the text of the founding fathers

dancing throuhh ghost town

after ghost town

past by-pass

after by-pass like

torn down posters after

poster, like

so much tumbleweed

like ghost dancers searching

for lost burial grounds

so much

to take in

before

lost forever

[onsomekindofstartrek]

It’s Moon Day Once Again

Apollo 11 was truly an incredible moment in history, and I think people now don’t really conceptualize how difficult and objectively unwise what these men did was.

Like, riding a motorcycle on the freeway is unwise. You’re basically a human with a little bit of metal accelerating you to speeds you can’t fully deal with, around much larger machines that wouldn’t be terribly damaged by smashing into you, also going at extreme speeds.

Going to the moon in 1969 was a lot like that. By April 1961 a man had orbited the earth. That was already very difficult at the time. Computers were rudimentary. Rocket technology was still very largely being designed around ideas that German scientists developed for Hitler’s V2 missiles, in both the East and West.

Now, the one good thing about being in orbit is, it’s not that hard to come down. You lose a certain amount of momentum, and suddenly your ballistic trajectory is no longer an ellipse but a parabola that intersects the ground. With parachutes you can even survive that intersection! Sometimes.

To get to the moon, for most of the way, you can be in a free return trajectory. That means you’re in an trajectory that would make an incomplete figure-8 before intersecting the atmosphere, which would rob you of enough momentum to bring you safely in to an ocean landing. You could lose main power and as long as you could keep the life support online and not freeze, you’d be fine.

As long as you didn’t step one foot (metaphorically) out of that trajectory. If you do, if, for instance, you want to orbit the moon and land there, then you better damn well hope you can put yourself back in a return trajectory or… you ain’t coming home.

For the first time, humans were flying so high that what went up might not come down.

Theoretically if you lost the ability to deorbit while still in a circular orbit around earth, they could have probably found a way to save you even in the 60’s.

But if you were going to the moon you had to be damn sure. You had to be motherfucking confident that your engine would re-ignite and put you back in an orbit that would lead you back to Earth, or else once you left the path, there would be a potential of getting stuck where nothing you could do would save you from a cold, choking death. This happened to some guys, by the way, and they lived, by the most stunning feat of engineering legerdemain in the history of space travel. There’s a film about them.

And things weren’t looking good. The first Apollo spacecraft ever built killed the three men who were supposed to fly it, on the ground in a goddamned dry run. In a pure oxygen environment, the Velcro they were planning on using to keep pens from floating around became extremely flammable and something caused a spark, causing it to go up like gasoline. The fire increased pressure in the capsule and the door, which opened in-wards, could not be opened against that pressure. They choked to death before they’d even left the ground, then burnt hideously leaving only charred wristwatches, bones and melted rubber. At that time it was very conceivable that the entire program would be halted. I have visited the exhibit, no, the shrine where their watches are kept. Their names were Grissom, White and Chaffee.

Somehow they persevered, and three people were brave enough to get in the Apollo 11 capsule, take it out of the free return orbit and then climb in a landing craft made partly of tinfoil, land on another world and… do a photo-op? Plant a flag? do geology?

Like, it’s easy to forget that, as far as the people funding and fighting for this program were concerned, this was colonial, geopolitical dickwagging. This was to show the Soviets who was the goddamned alpha male of the world. James Webb, for all his flaws, had to fight for the science to even be considered, to even get funding allocated for it, and that only by his feverish efforts to convince the president (another catholic moderate democrat, at that time) that the science was necessary to make the mission safe. The president did not care, he wanted the colors of the Yankees to be planted on the moon, and he wanted it to be ideally before the People’s Flag of the Soviet Union was planted there by the Soyuz program. The science, he said, was incidental.

What does it say about us that the most incredible scientific achievement of our species was an exercise in symbolic colonialism; a proxy war alongside other more bloody proxy wars against the Soviets, in Korea and Viet Nam and later in Afghanistan; a show of force that proved nothing but that we had money to throw away and men willing to give their lives for our cause.

But the science was there. While in chains, science prevailed. Humanity’s knowledge was materially advanced, despite Kennedy and Nixon doing their best to keep the dickwagging at the forefront. We learned so much from that period from the sixties to the nineties when space travel was actually funded. We can thank them for GPS and many other things.

And whatever we might think of their motives, you have to respect Armstrong, Aldrin and Collins. They got on that damned rocket knowing that it was like riding a motorcycle with no brakes on a freeway with hell on one side and hades on the other, and knowing that the best astronauts they knew had died when the same kind of ship decided to become an impromptu gas chamber. And they went to the moon, goddammit. That’s the kind of guts I wish I had.

And that flag, that it was all in service of? And the others like it, from the six successful lunar landings? The flag that it was so fucking important to plant in the regolith before the Soviets could?

They’ve all bleached to white, un-ruffled in a place where no wind blows, in a surrender to the cosmos. In the furthest outpost of humanity, America surrenders.

I think that’s beautiful.

[byronsmuse]

At evening, sitting on this terrace, When the sun from the west, beyond Pisa, beyond the mountains of Carrara Departs, and the world is taken by surprise … When the tired flower of Florence is in gloom beneath the glowing Brown hills surrounding … When under the arches of the Ponte Vecchio A green light enters against stream, flush from the west, Against the current of obscure Arno … Look up, and you see things flying Between the day and the night; Swallows with spools of dark thread sewing the shadows together. A circle swoop, and a quick parabola under the bridge arches Where light pushes through; A sudden turning upon itself of a thing in the air. A dip to the water. And you think: “The swallows are flying so late!” Swallows? Dark air-life looping Yet missing the pure loop … A twitch, a twitter, an elastic shudder in flight And serrated wings against the sky, Like a glove, a black glove thrown up at the light, And falling back. Never swallows! Bats! The swallows are gone. At a wavering instant the swallows gave way to bats By the Ponte Vecchio … Changing guard. Bats, and an uneasy creeping in one’s scalp As the bats swoop overhead! Flying madly. Pipistrello! Black piper on an infinitesimal pipe. Little lumps that fly in air and have voices indefinite, wildly vindictive; Wings like bits of umbrella. Bats! Creatures that hang themselves up like an old rag, to sleep; And disgustingly upside down. Hanging upside down like rows of disgusting old rags And grinning in their sleep. Bats! In China the bat is symbol for happiness. Not for me!

D.H.Lawrence, The Bat

[dipodiidae]

some iremi future shales

(neon)

The Reclusive Oneirohacker. Clay Men are a rare sight these days, after die Herren opened a bunch of factories west of Berlin and the shipments of Clay Men went there instead. Out of sight, out of mind, making all the little products and trinkets you can order with just a click. You've heard some weird shit about the Oneirohacker in your revolutionary circles, though. They're one of the few people who know their stuff when it comes to both Parabola and the net. Regular computer viruses are so out of fashion these days, aren't they? Send them a message or two, hope that they like your target of choice, and maybe—just maybe—someone will bump into you on the street and hand you a flash drive containing a sentient dream-worm. Handle with care.

(ruinous)

The Wandering Saint. You've heard a tale from some of the other scavengers you come across, of a Clay Man with an eye like a remembered sun, who wanders the ruins of London. (It's almost preposterous. The Clay Quarter and its occupants are long reduced to rubble, and not bearing Stone's curse, even the survivors have chosen to leave this doomed world.) The Saint will not bring you food, nor water, nor medical aid. They are as bound to the limited resources they can find as you and the other scavengers are. But they bring something far more precious than that: comfort. Fall asleep in their arms. Let them stand guard over you for a while. And, with their guiding hand, dream: dream of the bustle of the old city, of sunlight against skin, of the scent of wildflowers. It is not real, as everything in Parabola is, but it will feed your mind for a while. The world is dying. You may as well find what little comfort you can.

[esteemed-excellency]

I compiled a list of all the Exceptional Stories I played, to be updated with every new one I play or buy, the stars are for my favourites:

A Trade in Souls - Spirifier ending

The Gift ⭐️ Sided with the Princess

The Court of Cats - The Prince-Bishop and the Viscountess remained together, the Ophidian Gentleman sent the fingerkings' regards

Lost in Reflections - Smashed the mirror to allow July to regain her sanity and freedom [in dreams: stole the contract for the sixth city and destroyed it]

Cut with Moonlight - Meridian House continues to operate

The Last Dog Society - The Sunken Admiral had his revenge killing the Sequencer and the Shamble-Man

Discernment

The Art of Murder - [played both endings, killing the snuffer was the most in character option but I liked her character]

The Waltz that Moved the World ⭐️ Danced the Waltzing Duke to his death and took his secret

The Frequently Deceased

The Calendar Code - Discovered truth about the Dutchess and returned the papyrus to her

Where You and I Must Go

Our Lady of Pyres

The Persona Engine - Destroyed the Machine

The Twelve-Fifteen from Moloch Street - Uncovered The Lily's secret and entered Hell

The Century Exhibition - entrusted the Wind of Ages to Hell, and kept its location from the Empress' regiment

The Season of Skies - the Gracious Widow will continue the Polymath's work, hoping for London to see the stars again

The Marriage of Feducci ⭐️ The marriage fell through

HOJOTOHO!

Trial and Error

The Stone Guest ⭐️ Filmed with stage magic and The Grand Hunt

The Sinking Synod

Lamentation Lock - Left with the Listless Pugilist, the Ascetic Housebreaker and the Hollow-Eyed Turncoat

Written in the Glim - The Entomological Astrologer continues her activities

For All the Saints Who From Their Labour Rest ⭐️ The Intrepid Deacon became an agent of the Brass Embassy

The Magician's Dream - The Haunted Magician keeps working for the Glass

Cricket, Anyone? ⭐️ Gave the Broken Word to Hell, the Game must go on

Noises from Upstairs - Saved the Dashing Debunker from moonlight

Tauroktonos

The Garden Embassy

The Brass Grail - The Dowager helped against Virginia and the Bishop regained his lover

Say it With Flowers ⭐️ Met with the Brooding Captain and the Lady in Lilac to mess with the Princess' plan, the messengers are safe.

Por Una Cabeza ⭐️ Doña Villar won the bet and kept her soul, her villa went to the urchins. Hiram kept the secret.

Go Tell the King of Cats - The Turbulent Tabby refused the King's gift and chose to spend his last days in comfort, surrounded by kittens, imparting what wisdom he could.

The Dilettante's Debut

The Icarian Cup ⭐️ Saved the Zeefarer and won the race, the Zeefarer and the Explorer parted in friendship

Caveat Emptor ⭐️ Preserved the original parasitic sigil and its copy on the deed

The Fair Unknown ⭐️ Won the tournament with the Red-Handed Queen's favour and claimed the boon

The Thing That Came in From the Fog - The Grandmaster exploded in Mr Fires' office

Reunion - The Prince remained in London, forsaking the royal family

The Tempest - The Tempestuous Urchin learned to let go of her anger, and she remains with Silvvy

A Crown of Thorns - Accepted and destroyed the Belligerant Prince's honey batch, helped with the Thorned Manservant's campaign

Adornment - Escaped Mr Stones' mines thanks to the Superstitious Smuggler's sacrifice. goddammit mr stones

Mistress of the Skies - The Collective moved to Parabola

A Stretch in the Sky

Totentanz ⭐️ Danced the true Totentanz and preserved its instruments

The Queen of the Elephants - Helped the Hopeless Vagrant against Queen Mary, set the elephant free / Killed the Hopeless Vagrant, sacrificed the elephant, queen mary ended up perpetually chased by the RHQ through her nightmares

Codename: Sugarplum ⭐️ Mr Stones kept the curio, and the Bazaarine Correspondent went West/died/remained in London. Hiram has the dog the dog

Dernier Cri

Inheritance

The Exile's Chalice

A Devil's Due - Helped Verity recover the Lyrical Soul

SALON SCANDAL! - The Foreign Office declined to comment (and the Monster had wings)

Stolen Stanzas

The Hollow Triptych - Freed the Conjunction of Absence

A Bright Future - Brokered a compromise between Mr Fires and the Futurist

The Deadly Dapperlings

The Mudlark's Lament ⭐️ Befriended the Precocious Tosher and helped the Drownie

Flame, Lead, Clay, Glass - Both the Engineer and the Correspondent survived and will probably get together again in the future, the Correction was dealt with

The Stolen Song - The final verses of the Enigmatic Drownie's song convinced the Accused Contralto not to join her in the zee

The Bloody Wallpaper ⭐️ Payed the debt to the Fingerkings, shouted at the Manager

The Path of Blood and Smoke

The Children of the Glow - Chose to not reveal the truth about the Luminous Miss Sparks and her glowing paint

The Stripes of Wrath - Left the tiger to die in peace

The Green King - The Green King died, though Lady Jane bound herself to him

A Newt by Any Other Name ⭐️ Sacrificed The Lure, left The Newt in the vault, and kept the diamond newt

The Tale of Old Fritz ⭐️ The Doomed Diver returned home safe

Slobgollion

The Sunken River - The Zubmariner and the Heart returned to London, safe from the Admiralty

Déjà Vu

The Laws of the Game

Arcana - Drank the Cider and freed the Sacristan

A Nest in the Eaves

Death and Tax Evasion

Aces High

[primordialsoundmeditation]

Magical find at Parabola West :

You can almost feel her love and compassion radiating through the image!

Earth mother 💜

Artist: Daniel Popper

Sculpture name UMI

Mara Clear Spring Cook

[adampage]

tagged by: @ambreiiigns my beloved nay 🥰

rules: You can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to. Put your playlist on shuffle and list the first 10 songs, and then tag 10 people.

1. The Pot by Tool

2. Another One Bites the Dust by Queen

3. 7 Rings by Ariana Grande (I need everyone to know this is the only song I have from her and it’s because I saw a video once of this group of people freestyle dancing to this song and it was soooo good so. it scratches my brain. also I genuinely love the song from sound of music that this song is inspired by

4. Parabol & Parabola by Tool (this is two songs in one, genuinely you should always listen to Parabol first followed by Parabola always always always and I love them so much and for the life of me I’ll never understand why they made this two separate songs)

5. EAT ME by Demi Lovato (ft. Royal & the Serpent) Rachel’s anthem <3 <3 <3

6. Wildflower by the JaneDear Girls

7. Kevin Wendell Crumb by West Dylan Thordson (it’s from the SPLIT movie score it’s so good)

8. No Glory in the West by Orville Peck

9. Vicarious by Tool (why am I being called out for being a Tool fan by my own music)

10. Good for You by Selena Gomez (ft A$ap Rocky) I don’t really care for his rap in this one like at all but the rest of the song makes me feel sexy so shut up. babygirl music. I’m gonna do a hangman fancam to this one day

Not tagging anyone, if you see this on the dash feel free to tag me so I can see yours 💙

[insecnetmadani]

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[dstrachan]

'VIEWS FROM THE EDGE' - w/c 20th March 2023

OIEE ‘Marathon’

Jean Cabbie & The Secret Admirer Society ‘Paper Doll’

Stiff Little Fingers ‘Alternative Ulster’

The Amorettes ‘Everything I Learned (I Learned From Rock & Roll)’

David Bowie ‘Starman’

Parabola West ‘Calling Your Name’

The Starjets ‘Titanic Town’

Sandy Thom ‘Runaway Train’

Izzy Marie Hill ‘How The Story Goes’

Grateful Dead ‘Wharf Rat’ 

Sonisk Blodbad ‘Stay Away’

Sonisk Blodbad ‘Yoga (Helene Rickhard Remix)’

Papooz ‘Ann Wants To Dance’

Khruangnbin ‘Time (You & I)’

Macon Heights ‘Headlights’

Tenek ‘Headlights’

Danny P feat. Toni Etherson ‘Feel The Light’

Jimi Hendrix ‘House Burning Down’

Caragh ‘Burn Bright’

Caragh ‘Panic Attack’

Caragh ‘Sleeping With The Fishes’

Elton John ‘Tiny Dancer’

Donovan ‘The Trip’

The Whythouse ‘Breathe’

Healthy Junkies ‘Witches Of Lust (Live at The Vale)’

[findasongblog]

Find a #electrofolk song

Parabola West - Calling Your Name

Parabola West is back with her new single 'Calling Your Name'. The artist persona of New Zealand-based American singer and songwriter Amy Tucker West. Drawing inspiration from Celtic and Nordic folk roots, electronica, and organic sounds, Parabola West's music is a lush soundscape of layered melodies.

"Calling Your Name' expresses the torment of loving someone who has become emotionally numb. Ask anyone on a significant dose of anti-depressants and they'll tell you about the numbing - that slow, subtle nothingness that keeps life ticking over without incident but turns down all the colour," says West. "The lyrics "you are a wilderness frozen from me" kind of sum up the bad times, when you just can't reach the heart until the ice melts."

[elsantodelrock]

Parabola West: Hannah

Parabola West es una entidad creativa que conociéramos en 2018 con el sencillo Calling Your Name y su correspondiente vídeo oficial, teniendo para éste 2022 el próximo lanzamiento de Stars Will Light the Way, su siguiente álbum de estudio, del cual nos presenta el primer sencillo, ya disponible en Spotify y Apple Music, con el disco ya también disponible en formato digital a través de Bandcamp,…

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

lead

Photography Credit: Orlando Scott Goff, “Sitting Bull,” 1881.

Parabola Magazine

* * * * *

“When the Lakota leader Sitting Bull was asked by a white reporter why his people loved and respected him, Sitting Bull replied by asking if it was not true that among white people a man is respected because he has many horses, many houses? When the reporter replied that was indeed true, Sitting Bull then said that his people respected him because he kept nothing for himself.”

–Joseph Bruchac: “Sacred Giving; Sacred Receiving,” PARABOLA, Summer 2011. 

* *

“You can't lead the people if you don't love the people. You can't save the people if you don't serve the people.” ― Cornel West

[lynxmuse]

Check out this pretty glorious example of midcentury modern design, in the form of a church in Toronto.  Slightly expressive, and slightly reserved, it’s a neat exercise in form, contrast, colour, and light.

Sadly, I could only find a couple of images of the inside, but they do tell most of the story of how the two parabolic sets of gluelam beams soar upwards yet don’t meet, leaving a gap for a band of windows that lets light filter down the wall in a soft gradient of light.  A similar shift of planes happens at the altar end of the church, bathing the back wall in a similar light with the potential to cast a dramatic shadow of the cross (which also reminds me of Tadao Ando’s Chapel on Mount Rokko done nearly 30 years later).  At the same time, the opposite sides of the nave and the apse are punctuated by small coloured windows.

There’s so much nifty stuff going on here, starting with the light play above which is further enhanced by having the taller lit parabola be white to catch the light, while the other side is a darker wood to accentuate the colourful piercings.  On that same side we have an aisle of sorts, formed between the space of the gluelam and the outside wall with a zig-zag ceiling that becomes a brow both inside and out, while outside, that same wall faces the street and is clad in a richly toned quarried stone.  And while the pipe organ seems to be a more recent addition, but hovers like a pair of sails that mimic the rising paraboloids.

What’s also cool is that the architecture firm who designed this also designed some very iconic and long-lasting urban icons, including Ontario Place (whose pods fascinated me as a kid), Canada Place, and the Eaton’s Centre!  (And the equally nifty Parkwoods Church nearby in North York.)  I’d never realized they were all done by the same firm… that’s some serious design chops.

Unfortunately, this church is currently up for sale and its days may well be numbered, very likely to be replaced with some banal cookie-cutter subdivision homes.  But if you’ve got $7m Canadian you could take this and turn it into some pretty sweet digs for yourself!

West Ellesmere United Church by Zeidler Partnership.