#porter would have a field day with me

[kai-the-first]

y'all if i was someone in fantasy high i would have started worshipping ankarna so fucking fast

[feathereddragonkin]

I think the worst part about being an alterhuman is the ones you miss.

As a dog, I miss my flock of sheep. The livestock I never had and yet long for every day. The family that I want so badly; the kids that run barefoot through the field alongside me in my dreams and the farmer's wife who sneaks me bits of their dinner when she thinks no one is looking.

As a panther I miss my jungle mates; I miss hearing the chatter of monkeys and the songs of tropical birds. I miss hearing the jungle come alive as I wake up from my nap high up in a tree.

As a tiger I miss the occasional fellow cat I'd meet; how we'd size each other up before chuffing a hello. How a group of us would hunt together and divide the spoils. I miss the cubs, how they'd chase my tail and yowl excitedly at me.

As a dragon, I long for my denmates. My flock. I want to lay down in a nest filled with warm feathery bodies, hear their soft chirps, fly alongside them and dive down to catch fish with my talons. I long to show them my collection of shiny objects, and marvel at their treasures.

As Ratchet, my team lingers on my mind. I miss long talks into the night with Optimus, playful arguments with Arcee and laughing at her sassy comebacks, hearing their voices and feeling the contentment that comes with their presence. Bumblebee's surprise hugs and cheerful wing flaps. Listening to the click clack of Rafael's keyboard, and Miko's cheering as she wins yet another round of that racing game against Jack.

As Bendy, I miss my sister. I miss Audrey, I want to hear her voice, see her smile. I want to hear her tell me it's ok, I miss her hugs. I also miss Porter, how he was always so cheerful and contagiously happy. How he calls me "Little Feller" in my dreams and throws me in the air to make me squeak. I miss playing with Heidi, begging Alison to sing for me, giving Tom a drawing to make him huff and try to hide a smile.

As Asriel, I want my Momma and Papa. I would give anything to help Momma bake a pie, and hear her gently remind me to wait for it to cool down. I wanna water the flowers with Papa, and make flower crowns with Chara. I miss her too, I wanna play tag with her through the halls of the castle and build huge blanket forts!

As Lan Xichen, I miss Da-ge so badly. All who died in the Sunshot Campaign, and afterwards. In spite of what he did... I still miss Jin Guangyao, and I wish I could have saved him. From the world, even from himself. I miss Wangji; I miss playing my flute while he accompanied with the Quqin.

There are so many people I miss; people I never truly had, but their absence still hurts me. Alterhumanity is a unique and interesting experience, but for me it often comes with the grief of a life you were meant to have, people who were supposed to be a part of your life but aren't. Maybe that's why we should cherish the people we do have, y'know?

[scumpatrol]

hmm i might as well finally show off my death stranding oc... siobhan kosling, porter and field researcher

back in the day i used to always imagine having an oc in the world of the game, she would live around the base of mountain knot city (close around the photographer and novelists son, but a little higher in the mountains right of his area), she would make bracelets and other small trinkets out of the chiral crystals in her spare time or when she couldn't sleep, but mainly just sort of did her job. she periodically worked alongside heartman bringing him what she would gather what she would find on her expeditions so now, with my ds brainrot coming back with the state of play trailer, i figured fuck it lets bring her to life. also with @ugh-my-back just enabling me with her bullshit, her oc layne will join the party soon 🧐 but anyway, this is her, i've tweaked her a bit here and there but i think im pretty happy with how she turned out. the only thing i wasn't expecting was for a certain someone to be as infatuated with her as i am 🤡🚬

[neurario]

If I made every video for a mix the way I made this one, I'd have a new video every week or so, but I would also have no life.

Over the last few years I've made plenty of mixes that I've just never shown or really published. And of all those mixes, there are a lot of mashups that I think I really knocked out of the park! But thinking about making videos for all of those mixes is super daunting... So, I decided to think about it another way - why don't I make a mix that includes all these top notch mashups, plus some new ones, and put /that/ on the internet for people to enjoy?

This mix project started at the beginning of November and I finished tweaking the audio just after Christmas. The video took only a few days of work, but I'm an idiot for crunching on this the way I did. I was motivated for whatever reason to get it out by New Year's if I could.

Tracklist:

00:00 Madeon - ABSOLU 0:36 Daft Punk - Contact / Justice - Mannequin Love (Live Remake) 6:37 Justice - D.A.N.C.E x Fire x Safe and Sound (WWW) / Toby Fox - Death By Glamour (+ RobKTA Splatted By Glamour Remix) 10:30 Toby Fox - Field of Hopes and Dreams / Justice - Tthhee Ppaarrttyy / Doo - Start Off (Remix) / Above & Beyond f. Zoe Johnston - Alchemy (i_o extended mix) 15:15 Toby Fox - A CYBER'S WORLD? / Madeon - All My Friends (Good Faith Live Edit) 19:20 Pascal Michael Stiefel - Clocktowers Beneath the Sea (Original v. Scootin' version v. AdulescensF orchestral remix) 22:42 (YOUTUBE MADE ME 'ERASE' THIS) deadmau5 - Hyperlandia / Porter Robinson - Divinity 27:48 Torcht - Terminus / Silentroom - NULCTRL EX 30:09 Terminus x Resonance / NULCTRL EX / Lena Raine - Resurrections (part 1) 33:11 Interlude (Resurrections) 34:42 Resurrections (part 2) / Porter Robinson and Madeon - Shelter (Madeon's Evil Edit) / San Holo f. Lizzy Land - DON'T LOOK DOWN (vocal) 38:20 G Jones - In Your Head (+ RL Grime remix + Eprom edit) / Mori Calliope - HUGE W 42:31 Benny Benassi - Cinema (Skrillex remix) / G Jones - Drift (Acid mix) 43:49 Cinema (Skrillex remix) / Weird Together - Drop The Brass 45:44 Mr. Bill - Pleasure Seeker x Too Complicated (Virtual Riot remix) / Pascal Michael Stiefel - You Are All Bad Guys 48:30 You Are All Bad Guys / Justice - D.A.N.C.E. (MSTRKRFT Remix) 51:08 Venjent - Wheels On The Bus x LASER gRAVE / Toby Fox - THE WORLD REVOLVING 57:36 Madeon - Borealis (+ Good Faith Forever version) / Mori Calliope - end of a life 1:01:05 ShockOne - Polygon / Octoplush (Splatoon 3) - Seep & Destroy 1:04:00 Tube and Berger - Straight Ahead / nomico - Bad Apple!! 1:11:58 Squid Sisters (Splatoon) - Calamari Inkantation (original + Spicy version + 3MIX) 1:15:15 Toby Fox - BIG SHOT (original + Siiva 'BIG [PLOK]' version + Squid Sisters 'SPLATTER SHOT' version) 1:19:10 Pryda - Stay With Me 1:20:46 Stay With Me / Daft Punk - Aerodynamic x One More Time 1:23:14 Stay With Me / Aerodynamic x One More Time (Ghoulie Mashup) 1:24:30 Daft Punk - Revolution 909 / deadmau5 - Sometimes Things Get, Whatever 1:26:39 Revolution 909 / Sometimes Things Get, Whatever / GHOST DATA f. Kindrid - The Twisted Spire 1:31:24 deadmau5 - SATRN / Porter Robinson & Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs - Unfold / San Holo f. Bipolar Sunshine - find your way 1:40:45 Porter Robinson - Everything Goes On / SEGA Sound Team - His World (Theme of Sonic the Hedgehog) 1:43:48 His World / Off the Hook - Ebb and Flow (Octo) 1:44:32 Everything Goes On / His World (finale) 1:45:07 Interlude (Adrien Brody) 1:45:43 Chirpy Chips (Splatoon) - Shellfie / Lemon Demon - BRODYQUEST 1:49:03 TheFatRat - Unity / Squid Sisters - Inkopolis News / Off the Hook - Inkopolis News 1:52:08 Unity / Octoplush - Seep & Destroy 1:53:20 Unity / Inkopolis News (x2) / Seep & Destroy 1:54:50 Off The Hook - Color Pulse / Madeon - Cut The Kid 1:58:28 Interlude (Are You Ready?) 1:59:44 NOMA - Brain Power (Splatsune Edit) 2:01:59 Brain Power / Pendulum - Propane Nightmares

[scotianostra]

November 10th 1871 saw the Journalist Henry M Stanley find the missing Scottish missionary David Livingstone with the classic “Dr Livingstone, I presume?”

In 1867, Henry Stanley became special correspondent for the New York Herald and two years late would be sent to Africa in search of the legendary explorer David Livingstone.

Livingston had been following his obsessional search to find the sources of the Nile River and no one had heard from him for three years.

Stanley got to Zanzibar in 1871 and headed out on a 700 mile trek through tropical rainforest. Because the Herald had not sent the money promised for the expedition he borrowed in from the US Consul. He used this cash to hire over 100 porters for the expedition.

The trip did not go well. During the expedition through the tropical forest, his thoroughbred stallion died within a few days after a bite from a tsetse fly. Many of his porters deserted, and the rest were decimated by tropical diseases.

Seven months after arriving in Zanzibar Stanley found Dr Livingstone near Lake Tanganyika in present-day Tanzania and greeted him with the famous quote: “Doctor Livingstone, I presume?” Or did he?

There is some doubt about whether the line was actually ever said.

Pages that relate to their meeting were torn out of Stanley’s diary by the man himself and neither he nor Livingstone mentioned them in their letters.

It surfaced over a year later in a summary of Stanley’s letters in The New York Times.

When Livingstone died a few years later Welshman Stanley continued to explore huge amounts of central Africa.

The rest of his career was just as eventful.

He was a key part in opening up the lower Congo to trade which meant the creation of the Congo Free State under King Leopold II of Belgium.

Despite his supposed famous line and explorations giving him his place in history there have been a number of criticism levelled against him.

He was accused of indiscriminate cruelty against African even saying himself: “Many people have called me hard, but they are always those whose presence a field of work could best dispense with, and whose nobility is too nice to be stained with toil.” It is also argued that he had a very conflicted view of women describing them as “toys” and “trifling human beings”.

Livingstone died from dysentery and malaria on May 1st, 1873, at the age of 60, in Chief Chitambo’s Village, near Lake Bangweulu, North Rhodesia (now Zambia).

[t4tozier]

porter drunk dialing jace when jace is out on a long trip. maybe he + zara + tiberia + lucilla + the druid teacher + yolanda are taking a bunch of the senior full caster students on a big end-of-semester experiential learning field trip or smth. like in florida we went to the keys for a week to study marine biology so i feel like aguefort would do smth similar.

and porter is like “yeah whatever stardiamond go on your little trip have fun don’t get yourself killed” but like 3 days in he’s a complete mess bc he missed jace. not that he’s gonna admit that. so he’s drinking whiskey and watching trashy reality tv and he’s SAD and also zara is there and he sees how jace and zara look at each other. so he calls jace up like “heyyyyy starshine hows your trip going. are you and zara fucking.” and jace is like “porter how drunk are you right now? i’m working. this is a work trip” all annoyed but he also missed porter so it’s actually really nice to hear from him

eeeeveryone wants to talk about drunk dialing porter okay let's do it /pos

okay stream need you now by lady a while you read this bc that's porter's vibe. also my vibe because i've had three shots and it's not a quarter after one but i am a little drunk <3

also i'm typing on my computer so there's no autocorrect let's do it.

i'm picturing there's a time difference here they're in like the red waste or something so it's like 11 for porter but like 7 for jace. so they're just all having dinner or something and jace sees his crystal flash with porter's name and is like hm. he never calls. so he excuses himself and picks up and he hears porter drawling and he can picture the lazy grin on his face as he greets jace, the way he's probably spread out across his couch, maybe even palming at himself through his sweats--no, jace, focus.

"you an' zara fuckin', then?"

and jace snorts and rolls his eyes but he's smiling fondly as he replies, "how much have you had to drink?"

"nothin'! barely anythin'. like, half a bottle. 's fine. i'm fine. asked you a question, stardiamond."

jace sighs, because he's not getting out of this conversation unless he answers. "no, porter, we're not fucking. happy?" there's silence for a few moments, and then he hears the sound of fabric rustling, a soft grunt from the other line, and he swears low. "are you--" he lowers his voice so the others won't hear. "are you jacking off because i told you we're not fucking?"

"no. yeah. maybe." and porter straight up moans, and jace feels his dick twitch and swears again. "fuck, starshine, you're so fuckin' pretty, love how you look all fucked out on my cock."

"porter, we can't do this now. you're drunk, and i'm--" he looks back at the table, and the others are chatting amicably. they don't look like they'd miss him that much--"i have to work!"

"c'mon, baby," porter drawls, and jace hates how it his voice goes straight to his cock. "i know you wanna taste, fuck, love your pretty little mouth on me--" and that's it. jace teleports back to their cabin and furiously jacks off while porter moans in his ear and sends him dick pics that are kind of shitty and blurry but even though jace has only been gone for three days he's still aching for it and clearly, so is porter.

[halevren]

FHJY Spoilers || my live thoughts as I watch episode 8

I am playing tomodachi life as I watch this. if anyone is curious, I named my island Yorb Island. I just restarted it

IT'S OUR TIME IT'S OUR YEAR

The lip syncing

see you at basrars! goodnight everyone

"Confirmed to be dead" NO. she is confirmed to not be on the mortal plane, perhaps she simply is chilling in the astral realm (I don't want her to be actually dead she looks too lovely)

licking baby..... :(

the lobster bisque

"Gorgug's roots of never being good" CRYING

I feel adaine right now. I am in such a point where I am very antisocial

glassblowing!!!

This disadvantage stuff is actually making me stressed

There's something beautiful about the bad kids not really caring that Kristen doesn't have magic, they still love her. A true "would you still love me if I was a worm?" She has nothing to offer right now, and yet, her friends move her more than anything

Riz can't focus :(

LYDIA 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

OH NO.... ADAINE.....

A d100???????????????????

91?!?!!?! oh no

ADAINE?!!?!??

FLASH OF RED??????? HUH???? WHAT??? WHAT IS GOING ON??

Not Cassandra???? Familiar scream???

"Maybe it's not your fault at all"

"Yeah I definitely killed her..."

Fiendish aura??

"I out wretchrot on it!" "oh good..."

"I thought it was because he was a straight man wearing the pride armor"

"Are you talking about emo music...?"

Lala Embers..

AW DON'T CRY

I feel like the cup of tea..... would be the worst idea

"All drums welcome!"

"What the fuck are we doing?"

there's a nudity tent

There's nothing wrong with a body 🔥

CASSANDRA WAS MARRIED?

I can't wait to see all the theories after this episode

"I don't want to talk about it"

"Do you want a bardic" no one wants fig'd bardic 😭😭😭😭

oh thanks goodness he has meticulous notes

Theothantic silence

There's so much information being thrown at us

Gods could always remember dead goda

"I thought you were dead" oh my

Lucy was possessed...

AYDA MENTION!!!!

OH MY GOD AYDA MENTION!!!!! ADAINE MENTIONED AYDA!!!!

Alter Emo

"It's all natural, man"

"sexy"

BUCKY!!!!!!!!!! BUCKY BOY!!!!!

24 point starts have to be the red crystals

I love all this theorizing. This feels like a debriefing

"Wretchrot is so fucking god at his job."

Minor illustration running drills 😭😭😭😭

"That's my owl bear!!!!"

"8 foot Fabian on the field next week"

"You know how you see the unknown? You shine a light on it."

"Pop off my first prayer"

A 6TH LEVEL SPELL SLOT?

a lot of invisible naked people

I want to partake in this festival

FICUS

MURPH IMMEDIATELY PUTTING HIS HEAD IN HIS HANDS AFTER FIG TURNS INTO WANDA CHILDA 😭😭

not a mosh pit environment

4 1/2 long pipe??!!? ;!

"You wanna get fucking high?"

RUBEN

"Fig had to take a shit."

"Why are there so many naked old people at your house?" "I don't know man! I don't have anything to do with that."

Gorgug disliking Ruben is so good I can't stop giggling

MY CLERICAL GNOMANCE

There is. Something going on.

PRINCIPAL GRIX

RIP RUBEN???? DISINTEGRATE???

NEW MAP!!!

I can't believe Ruben is the front man of MCG

COUNTERSPELL

"don't do this...."

OH NO. OH GOD.

oh god.......... dildo lawnmower

"I've had sex before!"

IT WAS ALL UNDER THE TARP

NOOOOOO WILMA AND DIGBY!!!!!!! NOOOOO

"Ruthless... So they were into fucking machines?"

"These are your champions, Grix?!?!!?!"

"You're not perfect order."

Save the turtle!!!!!

yeah -5 movement. that's tough.

FABIAN TURN 🔥🔥

26 to hit 🔥🔥

they're all just from this summer 😭

"I'm in"

REMOTE ACCESS

That is a four!!!

GAMER POSE 😭

"We got him Porter."

The shoe rack

"Come with me!"

So many nude gnomes

MURPH CANCELLED A CRIT INTO A MISS

"♪I'M GONNA SAVE YOU♪"

DIMENSION DOOR

SO MUCH GOING ON WITH WANDA

"But that moment of terror does happen, 'cause I want him to feel it. I want him to know what would it feel like if the most important thing in his world disappeared."

LISTENING TO A PODCAST AT A MUSIC FESTIVAL

CLOBICA!!

He's not raging???? Let him rage!!!

Bypasses the shield?!?

STUNNED??

What A Day.

Can the air elemental go up Grix's butthole?

Intelligence saving throws

ALLY GOT THE 3 MUSKETEERS

D12 bardic??????

42 POINTS OF PSYCHIC DAMAGE?

NOOO CLOBICA

Rip Clobica

FOR THE LAWN AND FOR PLEASURE

HE BYPASSES'S GRIX'S SHIELD

Wilma and Digby to the rescue!

Kristen healing 🔥

11 points to Riz </3

33 POINTS OF FIRE DAMAGE?

the little mini displays of what's going on is so cool and cute I love them

Four parents on a battlefield is too many

MY CLERICAL GNOMANCE GIVING OUT BARDIC INSPIRATION

THE VULTURE

Gilearean!

THE COMPLICATED WOMEN PODCAST

I love the CW

BIG GRIX

I love Lou and Ally's energy together is so good

RIZ GUKGAK

"If I take 5 stress tokens—"

HE'S ABOUT TO WHAT? TAKE OVER WHO? RIZ NO!!!!!!!!!!!

NOOOOOOOO RIZ IS GETTING MIND CONTROLLED

"I'm mad at you for asking."

NOOO HE GOT A ONE NOOOOO

HE'S GONNA HIT THE TUBE

FINALLY HIS BAD ROLLS HELP

omg the vulture

"Yes. Abso-fucking-lutely, Brennan. Ally Beardsley is at a place of doubt and uncertainty with this move."

hey hirlie

OH MY GOD THE BACKDROP

THE CULTURE DIMENSION???

WHAT?????? WHAT????? THAT'S WHERE IT'S ENDING????????????

[she-is-27-i-checked]

It's bloody well your turn, 27! Top 10 hottest fictional women/people of all time?! 😁

Well well well... If it isn't the ask I was going to answer whether anyone asked me or not. 😂

Some would call me "over prepared", "unable to count" or just plain "thirsty"... and they would all be correct.

So let's do this...

1. Ava Silva - Warrior Nun

I tried to limit myself to one character per work of fiction and this was the hardest one to narrow down from simply ALL OF THEM. EVERY SINGLE WOMAN IN WARRIOR NUN IS AN ABSOLUTE SMOKE SHOW. This is helped, considerably by the fact that they all can, and would, snap my neck. Woof. But I made myself choose. So here we go. (SorryBeaSorryLillithSorryMummySupesSorrySexyDoctorJillianSorryTheAbsoluteDeityOfHotnessThatIsShotgunMary!!!)

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

2. Bette Porter - The L Word. She's a legend for a reason. If you're ever having a bad day just hit up YouTube and find a super cut of Bette Porter swearing. Never fails. 16 year old me would turn myself inside out for this woman. (37 year old me probably still would too, who am I kidding)

Exhibit A

3. Jane Rizzoli - Rizzoli and Isles. See the last 6 months of this blog for my complete derangement facilitated by doomsday luring me over here from Supercorp. Yes we know Angie Harmon is kind of evil, yes we do still very much want to get under it anyway. Black button up supremacy!

Exhibit A

4. Bo Dennis -Lost Girl. It's Anna Silk? Playing a pansexual succubus who needs to have lots of sex or she dies?? And did I mention it is Anna Silk?? Just an amazing sex-pollen crack fic come to actual life.

Exhibit A

5. Carson Shaw - A League of Their Own. Ok, I will admit to being severely under-medicated when this show came out. And that was probably a factor in me going absolutely BATSHIT FERAL for Abby Jacobson in this role. The dimples? The arms? The cheeky little smile and the innocent little face. Urrrggghh. I. Just. Want. To. Squish. Her.

Exhibit GAY:

6. Faith - BtVS. One of the first hotties to penetrate this prickly exterior. She's a smoke show. Everyone knows it, especially her. When she swaggers in to season 7 after busting out of jail to stop the apocalypse ? ((Chef's kiss))

We present to the bench m'lord

7. Stella Gibson - The Fall. Urghhhhhhhh. Look. It's Gillian Fucking Anderson playing the most sexually liberated, yet morally dubious character we've ever seen. She wears suits. She tells men to fuck off. She drinks wine like she's making slow love to it. SHE KISSES ARCHI PANJABI.

If it pleases the court

Exhibit B

8. Jane the Vicar - Collateral. Ok, this one is maybe out of left field but I needed Nicola Walker on my list and I narrowed it down to This Nicola Walker because a) canonically (heh) gay and b) vicar's outfit (ok sue me). She also maintains that pathetic wet cat of a woman vibe that she does so well while being slightly less depressing than in Scott and Bailey.

The prosecution rests

9. Debbie / Lou in Ocean's 8. Yes. I know I'm breaking my own rule. Shut up. It was going to just be Debbie but I was looking at the evidence and it really is the pair of them together where the magic happens. We've seen both these actors be depressingly unsexy in other things (sorry. *cough*Carol*cough*) but in this they Just Eye Fuck for 2 hours and it's AMAZING.

Exhibit A

10. Villanelle - Killing Eve. Show me one woman who does not want to be murdered intimately by Villanelle and I'll show you a fucking liar. I present her 2 best looks for the jury...

Exhibit 1 - the suit and tie and ring a ding ding situation...

Exhibit 2 - the cable knit that rewired my ovaries and made me genuinely want to have little murderous babies for her.

10a. Commander Lexa - The 100. Gone but never forgotten. Continuing a pattern of brunette, lethal and soft as a kitten's arsehole for one specific blonde woman.

Honourable mentions...

M'lady

Mare of Eastown!! Every time a male show runner tries to make a beautiful woman less beautiful by mucking her up a bit I howl at her for a decade.

Diana Leatherby in Tipping the Velvet. I read the book at the tender age of 16. When I say I will never see a wooden chair the same way I mean it. Anna Chancellor in the BBC adaptation is only maybe 70% the hottie my brain cooked up tho.

Root and Shaw in Person of Interest - lost out because I couldn't choose between them!

Alex Danvers in Supergirl. Chyler Leigh is hot as fuck in this role, especially with her shaved hair. But I haven't watched enough of the actual show to judge her personality. I get the impression she becomes a bit of a cunt....

Mickey Knight in the JM Redmann books. Excluded because no one will have heard of her but lives in my heart and sexy musing forever. 🔥😘

[wcmi-22]

Mad Hair day part 2

By Allison Blossom

As Reginald Glided through the crowds to his job, he did everything he could to hide his embarrassing problem with his gigantic green hat.

Suddenly, a wave of thoughts filled with anxiety came over his Mercury filled brain.

“Oh what if someone sees?!” He thought sweatily.

“What if they laugh?! What if word gets out?!! The paparazzi would have a field day!!!!”

Then another terrible, mind provoking thought ceased him.

“What if Alice sees????!!!!!” The thought entered. Then it swarmed with Alice’s laughter along with the crowd’s laughter all at once.

It ran quickly into scene after scene of humiliating name calling and laughter. It was like a chorus of torture for the poor hatter.

As Reginald’s thoughts consumed him, suddenly he ran into someone and ceased his thinking to help them up. To his surprise it was none other than the girl he had been pinning for, Alice Liddell!

“Oh noooo!!!” He thought as he looked at her.

“Reginald?” She began “What on earth are you doing?”

He stood there for a moment trying to come up with a lie until

“Reginald? I Asked you a question?” She stated. And frankly it is quite rude of you to not answer as well as run into…”

“Sorryalicegottago!” He stammered and bolted away from the now very much confused blonde.

As Alice walked away suddenly she made it to her bookshop.There her friend noticed her expression on her face.

“Let me guess?” She said.” Another annoying encounter with Reg?!”

“No actually a brief one?” Alice said confused.

“How so?”

“Well, he ran into me and didn’t say a word until he said he had to go.” Alice explained.

“And you know the weirdest part was?”

“He didn’t pay attention to you or ask you a random question?”

“That and he called me Alice!”

The two women were left baffled and couldn’t understand why for the rest of the day.

Meanwhile, back at the Hat shop, Reginald made it and quickly went upstairs to avoid EARS as much as possible. But he knew better than to try to sneak by a hare with impeccable hearing.

“There you are Reg!” He said “where have you been?”

“Well you see I ran into Alice and…” Reginald tried to explain.

“Non of that now, let’s get to work! After all Covid gave us a lot of orders!” Ear said pushing him to his workshop.

Suddenly as Ears pushed him, Reginald’s hat came off. To Ears surprise, he saw that Reginald’s hair was not his usual white but instead white and orange like a lollipop almost. A very weird lollipop.

“ Did you dye your hair while you were away?”

Ears asked.

“Ears..” Reginald said embarrassed.

“Because I’m pretty sure you messed it up?”

“Ears..”

“And if this one of your other hair brained schemes to win Alice, you must have really screwed this one up because..”

“EARS!” Reginald shouted.

“I didn’t do this to myself, I woke up this morning and it was just like this!” Reginald explained.

“That makes no sense more than usual?!”

“Trust me I know! And it’s embarrassing!”

“Well we can always dye it back to normal and luckily customers won’t see you in your shop!”

“True and true!” Reg smiled” thanks my friend!”

Soon Reginald went into his work shop and got too work.

“Ok, first order of the day.” He said looking at the order paper.

“One order of a grand jungle extraordinary gardening hat for Jane Porter!”

Soon Reginald starting making the hat. As he was gathering the fabrics but suddenly, his kind went blank. He had no idea of how to make this hat extraordinary.

As he thought and thought suddenly the door opened to reveal Ears.

“Reg!” He said “ it’s lunch are you still working on that hat?”

“What?” He said “that can’t be right it’s only!” Reg then looks at his clock to see it was lunch time.

“That’s weird I thought it was still morning?”

He questioned.

“Then that means…”

“You took all morning and you still age my done that hat!” Ears explained.

Reg looked down at the hat and felt bad. No ideas came to mind and what’s worst is that this hat was due in 2 weeks.

“I know! It’s like my mind just went blank! I can’t think of anything!” He said.

“Maybe your just hungry?” Ears questioned.

“Let’s get you something to eat!”

Ears soon dragged his slightly gingered friend to the sandwich shop known as HUNKA HUNKA BURNIN SUB. Of course Reg wouldn’t go out in public until he covered his little “embarrassment” first.

It was a Hawaiian themed restaurant that David Kawena ran with surf boards and many different amazing subs you can choose from. You can even create your own too!

“Aloha,Ears, back again I see!” He greeted. “And you brought Reg too!”

“ Yes, and we got a need to feed!” Ears assures him “so what’s your specials today?”

“Well, we have a Italian with spicy mustard and we have a Cuban with a nice thick pickle.”

“Oh I’ll take the Cuban!”

“Nice!” David said writing down his order. “And for you, Reg? Do you want your regular triple mean cheese and tomato sandwich and your salt and vinegar chips?”

Reginald looked at the menu and then decided.

“Actually David I think I’ll get just a ham on white with American cheese, lettuce, pickles and tomato with original chips today if you please.”

Both David and Ears’ jaws dropped.

“Uh ok, Bra-da.” David says perplexed.

Soon EARs and Reginald took a seat in a nice red booth.

“Reg? Are you feeling ok?” Ears asks.

“Yes, I am besides the fact I am feeling embarrassed about the H-A-I-R. Why you ask?”

“Because you just ordered a normal sandwich! Which you have never done in the history I have known you!”

“Well, I was craving it. Besides all that Cheese and ham and tomato would get too messy.”

“But, Reg, you like messy sandwiches!”

“Well, not today.” Reg said and started to read the menu. As he read, Ears decided to test how bad the situation is.

“Reg?” He asked making Reg turn his attention to EARs.

“If you could choose between a stuffed teddy bear and a stuffed manatee which would you choose?”

“Why are you asking me…?”

“JUST PICK,REG!!!!”

“OK TEDDY BEAR! Ya happy?!”

Ears his hands to the table then pointed to David as he looked at Reg.

“David! Make our orders to go! We are taking you to a doctor right now!” Ears stated then proceeded to drag Reg out of the booth.

“Woah woah woah , Ears!” Reginald shouted. “Why are you taking me to a doctor?”

“Because there is clearly something wrong with you!” Ear stated.

“What just because I wanted to eat a normal sandwich and I would choose a teddy bear?!”

“The Reginald I know never eats a normal sandwich and he would always choose a Manatee! He even wants to retire in Florida so he can live near Manatees! No there is definitely something wrong! I think…”

Ears thought for a moment then realized.

“Your muchness is draining!!”

“Come on Ears no it isn’t!” Reginald assures. “It’s just a bad hair day!”

Then Ears took Reginald’s hat off his head and was shocked to see that his hair was loosing its white.

“Reg your hair is getting worse!!”

Suddenly, a surprise came through the door. The young blonde he ran into that same morning.

“Oh hello, Ears!” She greeted. “ I meant to ask you about that book you wanted because we have it in back order but there is a way to get it sooner..” Suddenly she see Reginald and his hair. Luckily she didn’t seem to recognize him.

“ Oh hello, are you new here?” She asked.

Reginald then began to sweat profusely and bolted out of the shop in a flash.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, my dear! Reg is just having a weird hair day.” Ears says grabbing the sandwiches and leaving out the door.

“ Wait that was Reginald?” Alice asked out loud without thinking.

“ Yep!” David said. “And he just ordered a normal sandwich!”

“A normal sandwich?”

“Yep?”

Alice then spotted something on the ground that seemed abnormal to Miss and picked it up.

Outside the shop Ears looked and suddenly spotted Reginald speed walking back to the hat shop.

“Reg!” He called out “slow down!”

Reginald then stopped for his friend.

“Now…” Ears said breathless “ what..was…that?!

“I don’t know!” Reg said in a panic.

“The Reginald I knew would have flirted with her 10 different ways in 6 different languages!”

“I know but I got all sweaty and hot and just felt like running!” Reg said scared.

“We better get you to a doctor and fast!” Ears said. Then dragged Reginald off.

[picturebookmakers]

Sydney Smith

In this post, Sydney talks about Do You Remember?, a contemplative and deeply moving picturebook, told from the perspective of a young boy who is moving home and is trying to understand his emotions. To be published by Neal Porter Books in October 2023.

Visit Sydney Smith’s website

Sydney: At this moment I am sitting on my doorstep waiting for a book to arrive in the mail. I am waiting for that complicated moment of holding something in my hand that is final and limited in its form. Something that had filled my days, months, and years and brought more struggle than I expected and uncovered more of myself than I was prepared to face. It started as a book about memory. I should’ve guessed I was in for a challenge.

I had experimented in past books with painting softly and playfully. Those images looked like how a memory might appear if we could project our mind on a screen and show others that time when we were young.

Memory is something that is inherently personal and private but universal. As a visual artist I could try to communicate that feeling and the look of a memory. I wanted to speak to readers about the nature of memory, but I soon found out that I was swimming the deep end without my water-wings. It is vast area of the human experience, and I was unsure about my ability to tell an interesting story and relate it to the theme to which I was committed.

Hindsight tells me I was going about this all backwards. Starting with the theme and trying to fit a story to that theme requires too much forcing and manipulation and often makes for an awkward and stilted flow. I was not alone on this journey, my Virgil was my editor, Neal Porter. He gave me the freedom to explore and with every draft we shared we went deeper into the weeds, all the while Neal asking the only real question worth asking, “What is it about?”

It was a book about remembering the past and making a memory of the present with someone you loved. But the characters, a mother and son, were sharing memories that were mine. They were real memories about living in the country, about picnics in the field, and riding my bike on the driveway then leaving all that behind and moving to the city. The two characters are in a bedroom on the first night in a new home in the city far from the farm. The book was working but I couldn’t even look at it. It felt deeply wrong. I was omitting a major element of the story, of my story. The part that made each memory worth recalling.

What actually happened was my parents divorced and my mother and I relocated far from our home in the country. Everything was uncertain and my world was turned upside down. My mother still calls it the Great Upheaval. I knew that if the story wasn’t true to our experience, I would be denying a part of my history even though it was painful to everyone involved. At the time of the divorce my role was to convince those around me who were in such pain that I was unaffected and stable. I understood that my sadness would make others sad. I felt like a custodian for the emotions and guilt that surrounded me. As the book evolved into a story of a broken family, I understood that my feelings of discomfort were there because I was pushing against the instinct that formed when I was that 8 year old. I was showing my sadness and it was ok. But that was not all. I was also answering the question my parents have silently asked for 36 years. It’s the same question I am asking now with children of my own. What will you remember? What will your memories of this time look like? Will you remember the upheaval, the darkness, the uncertainty?

The answer is that I remember love. Unconditional and ever present.

This book is for my mother, but she has not seen it yet. I am sitting on my doorstep, waiting for this book to arrive in the mail. With its 40 pages and a handful of words, it could never say it all but it says enough.

Illustrations © Sydney Smith.

Buy this picturebook

Do You Remember?

Sydney Smith

Neal Porter Books, United States, 2023

Can you hear the morning wind in the trees? Can you feel the snowflakes landing on your wrist? Can you taste the sweetness of the warm berries?

A boy describes the memories that are so meaningful to him as he is about to move into a new home. Sydney Smith takes us into the mind of the boy as he processes the complex emotions that he experiences as he contemplates his new surroundings.

[gigantomachylesbian]

saw your storygraph post, and now i'm wondering, do you have any favorites amongst the LGBTQIA+ books you've read so far this year? would you recommend any of them? i'd love to hear your answer!

Yeah absolutely! I'll try to recommend a variety of things (without going overboard) but I must admit that I'm very biased towards epic fantasy and horror in my reading (also wlw stuff more than anything else, though I'm trying to broaden my horizons a bit!) Under the cut because I have so much to say about books literally all the time every day.

She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan.

This is my absolute favorite book I've read so far this year, and it probably makes my top 3 overall! This is a historical fantasy novel inspired by the rise of the real-life Hongwu Emperor in the 1300s in China. It follows Zhu, a girl who takes on her dead brother's identity to also claim his fate of greatness, becoming a skilled tactician and ruthless enemy along her rise to power. This book has some of the best scheming, back-stabbing, and vying for power I've ever read--I cannot possibly emphasize enough that a guy gets drawn and quartered and it was delightful to me <3. In addition to just being deeply compelling and well-written (Zhu is SUCH a good, complex character, she is absolutely ruthless and clever and perceptive), it has some really interesting representation! Because it's set in historical China, a lot of this stuff isn't stated explicitly in the way it would be in, like, a contemporary novel, but it's absolutely clear in both how the text is written and its themes. Zhu does have a romance with a woman which I really enjoyed, and at a certain point she acknowledges that, while she's not a man despite living as one to maintain her power, she's not really a woman, either. At the same time, our other POV character (and Zhu's narrative foil, which is done so well it makes me BANANAS), is Ouyang, a eunuch within the Mongolian army who, while not transgender, faces a unique, interesting, and incredibly degrading position of gender within this society due to his status as a eunuch, and it drives everything he does. He's literally my favorite character in the entire book I need to study him like a bug. ALSO he's gay. She Who Became the Sun really explores, through Zhu and Ouyang, this theme of "like recognizes like," where, despite being on opposing sides, Zhu is able to recognize in Ouyang this sort of precarious gender status she herself experiences, and understand him better for it. This book is complex, extremely well-written, and delivered everything I want from a historical fantasy, from rich settings, cut-throat politics, complex and morally gray characters and, of course, ghosts! The sequel (I believe the series is a duology?) comes out this summer and I AM going to flip out about it.

Honey Girl by Morgan Rogers.

Now, on a totally different note, I've got a contemporary romance! But not really of the rom-com variety necessarily. This novel follows Grace Porter, who recently completed her Astronomy PhD and celebrated by letting loose for once in her life--which results in her having a vegas wedding with a girl she just met. As silly as that premise is, much of the novel focuses on, yes, Grace's developing relationship with Yuki as the two connect, but also on the effects that Grace's perfectionism and burnout have on her mental health. The novel explores her feelings of uncertainty about her future, as well as how the scientific field she loves is 10 times harder for her to succeed in as a queer black woman, even when she's dedicated her whole life to it. It has some incredible discussions of both the beauty of science and of storytelling, a delightful and fleshed-out set of side characters (including a fantastic queer friend group that I adored), and absolutely beautiful, rich descriptions and prose. I absolutely adore Grace as a character and find her to be just so incredibly real and believable, and this was a book I could just sink right into with its beautiful descriptions.

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White. Now we're onto a YA dystopian horror! This novel follows Benji, a trans teenager whose eco-fascist, Christian cult has destroyed most of the world, and turned him into a bioweapon to destroy the rest. He's on the run, and finds refuge in a group of survivors based out of a local LGBT+ teen center as they fight to survive when faced with the murderous cult members, horrible conglomerations of flesh and bone made to kill them, and a damaged, burning Earth. This novel has some absolutely fantastic body horror! It's very gnarly, and combines a lot of meat with Christian imagery in a way that was just delightful. The tension and horror elements definitely worked for me, and I really enjoyed Benji as a protagonist. Benji's experiences as a trans kid are pretty heavily focused on, especially combined with the community he finds in the other survivors and his relationships with them. Also, his love interest is canonically autistic! Overall, Hell Followed With Us has a great balance of nasty body horror, the challenges of fighting to survive, and the hope found in community.

Okay those are the only books I'm letting myself write extensive recommendations for because otherwise I'll be here all day, but here's some bonus recommendations: The Burning Kingdoms series by Tasha Suri (lesbian epic fantasy series, 2 books so far, Indian-inspired fantasy world with incredible world building, action, and complex women <3. Also in my top favorites from this year!), A Strange and Stubborn Endurance by Foz Meadows (mlm fantasy romance, explores cultural differences really well+a powerful trauma recovery narrative (with a touch of vengeance <3), first book in a series but the second isn't out yet, I LOVED this book and its characters and the romance so so so much, but do heed the trigger warnings as it starts out pretty dark), Plain Bad Heroines by Emily M. Danforth (Horror that plays with metafiction, weaves together narratives of past tragedies at an all-girls boarding school with the making of a contemporary film about those events, lesbian+bi+polyamorous rep, grossnasty bug stuff+picnic at hanging rock vibes. An absolute blast!).

Okay those are all my recommendations for now (and limited to just what I've read this year) BUT if you're looking for a specific genre, type of representation, or even just something more lighthearted than most of what I've mentioned, please don't hesitate to ask! I definitely have way more things I could've recommended if I didn't want this post to be a million miles long. Also thank you for asking! :^D

[paperstarwriters]

People don't often interact with my #just thinking posts so Idk if people ever see it at all, but even then, I wanna throw this out there and just keep myself accountable.

Warning for Anxieties, implied suicidal ideation, academic stress

This is a post about some of my current struggles, I'm not talking about that in depth—the main point is more hopeful I think—but the topic is there.

there's been this song I've been listening on loop to recently; Look at the Sky by Porter Robinson. It's really sweet, and really nice and alongside, Something Comforting, Get Your Wish, and You are Enough (which, unlike the others is by Sleeping at last) it's a really uplifting and encouraging set of songs that has helped me out a lot in encouraging me through my studies.

As the semester comes to an end however, the stress continues to build and grow and with it, my panic and fear.

I have no official diagnoses, but I know well enough that there's something askew in there. A little tender part that's vulnerable to failure and stress and so many other things.

And this is why I just keep coming back to Look at the Sky.

It's the chorus.

Look at the sky, I’m still here I’ll be alive next year I can make something good, oh Something good

It reads like a promise to me. Mainly because of the second line.

I'll be alive next year.

I'll keep myself here, today so I can make it to next year.

Idk. Porter Robinson mentions how it's about the creative cycle of taking in other people's work to create a new tapestry of creativity, but I always linger on this song for my studies rather than any of my creative writing.

I'm not very good at what I'm studying at, and I can't help but associate my talent in the field with how much I should like it. The study is interesting, and when I'm not constantly worrying about failing projects or failing quizzes or failing exams, the content is fascinating and fun to learn.

But I don't do well on the assignments.

I'm not failing. I'm not so horribly behind on all my assignments that I know that I'll fail or something, but I can't help but feel the need to get at least 90% on everything. It's fear driven I think. My parents wanted that of me when I was a child. the sentiment continues to linger on in me.

I didn't do so great on a single assignment this time. It's for a project—one I need to complete in order to pass the class at all. But I messed up on the formatting and I left a few tails undone at the end. It was incredibly rushed and a miracle that I had it finished at all, but I still can't help the sickening feeling that I should have done better. Even if I was staying up way past what was healthy for me, something that would cause me general dizziness and heavy sickness later on in the day, I still felt like I should have exerted myself more to check up on it and get it nice and pretty and polished.

I haven't gotten my grade back for that assignment yet. and I can't help but feel sick thinking about it.

I know that logically, the portion of my grade that would be affected might be pretty small, and I've done pretty well in the rest of my assignments. I'll probably be able to pass the class.

Still I can't help the feeling that If I don't do perfect on every single assignment, I will fail.

I have to hand in a physical copy of the assignment tomorrow, I felt so sick going back over my digital copy— forced to look at all of my sloppy and messy mistakes. I felt fear looking at it.

I felt a lot of things, really. Nasty, dark and irrational things.

But...

I'm still here.

I'll continue to try and be here tomorrow too. And the day after that. I'll make it to next year.

And even if I don't do great in that class, I can still make it to the degree I want. It'll take a little stress and struggle, but I'll get there eventually.

And until then, I can still make good things—I can write the little stories, and one shots and fanfics that make me happy.

Look at the sky, I’m still here I’ll be alive next year I can make something good, oh Something good

I promise.

[aequoranimae]

1st-3rd july

My last morning in Vienna, I packed up my bags and left them in the hostel locker room while I went out to find a pastry for breakfast—I suppose it was what we would call a danish, filled with custard and raspberries. It was a rainy morning and I sought shelter in the entrance of the Charles Church, but I didn’t go it because they were charging admission and I’ve been into plenty of very good churches in Vienna for free now. Eventually I accepted the rain was not going anywhere and scurried through the streets as quickly as possible, hugging the edges of buildings, until I found a supermarket where I could stock up for the day ahead. The train between Vienna and Venice is eight hours long, by far the longest single journey during my travels aside from the plane leg across the Indian Ocean. So carrying an extra bag of snack material I took the metro back to Vienna main station and waited for my train. The service was fairly quiet to begin with, perhaps most of the horde is not arriving in Venice via train from Austria. After eating my packed lunch I fell into a bit of a stupor, and woke back up to the mountains, the last dregs of the Alps stretching across Western Europe until they petered out here in rural Austria.

The train passed through many tunnels under mountains, at other times weaving around them, the endless dark green hills heavy with pine and occasionally broken by pieces of limestone protruding from the forest. There were small towns too, whose silent and run-down stations we passed through mostly without stopping. Although the journey was a long one, I only experienced any true suffering after waking from another nap so thirsty my throat was dry and burning, but I was one euro short in cash to buy a bottle of water, and card payment was only accepted online. As we sat outside one rural station for twenty minutes, delayed, I did battle with the mobile service in the mountains of regional Austria to make a purchase and at last succeeded (I had more luck than another Australian family sitting across from me, who I didn’t reveal myself to, comfortable in the perception of being something foreign). Then we passed on into Italy, signified by the dramatic change in station names and the arrival of the Italian police on board—and the architecture of the towns was different too, transformed into that Italianate style. Once or twice we crossed on bridges over shallow rivers where the water ran a striking aqua over white stone flats. And as we came into the seventh or eighth hour of the journey the mountains sloped down into farmland and pale fields. And so at last the mostly empty train was skating across the lagoon with the city of Venice in view.

I exited the train station with a sense of exhilaration—it’s hard not to, when the Rialto is right there, lined with some of Venice’s most glamorous buildings. And I had no great task ahead of me now, because my accommodation was less than ten minutes’ walk from the Venezia S.L. and my suitcase is the size of a carry-on; I have no need of the hawking luggage porters outside the station who probably cost more than my train here. I arrived at my apartment tucked away in a small alley block where the owner, Franco, came to meet me after I rang the bell. Up two very narrow flights of stairs was the peaceful, old-fashioned entrance hall with doors leading to three rooms for rent, the bathroom and the homely little kitchen. Franco checked me in and showed me the essentials provided, including coffee, little brioches and packets of Nutella, and suggested if I needed a good pizza I go just around the corner to the restaurant there because it would be closed the next two days. I’d actually bookmarked that place as my plan for the night, especially since it was already well past eight (not late for the Italians, but late for me), and took this as a sign. Definitely this trattoria was a scene for locals and not lone tourists like me, but after a while the very kind waiter convinced two of the older Italian men taking up a quarter of the restaurant between them to continue their espressos and conversation on just the one four-person table instead of two. I ordered the salami pizza which I ate true Italian style with my knife and fork. I only managed to eat about two-thirds but saved some room for a tiramisu, a favourite of all time that I needed to christen my arrival in Italy. The loud chatter of the locals and the warmth of the atmosphere reminded me of what I have always loved about this country, so different to the places I have stayed so far.

The only negative I woke up to in the early hours of the next day was a significant number of mosquito bites, but I found the culprit and made it pay for its crimes. Then I talked with Mum on the phone, who is now in Lyon, and wandered without direction through the alleyways that were empty except for the streetcleaners and a few men making deliveries. Of course I was in love already, pausing on each little bridge and in every campo. I crossed the Rialto bridge when I was almost the only person there, having passed by the fishmongers still setting up their stalls, the tourist stands still closed. For breakfast I hovered shyly outside a café as it opened and waited until an appropriate number of Italians had gone in to get their espresso before I went in for my cappuccino and croissant. I walked to the edge of the city and saw the wide sea beyond, getting lost until it was finally time for me to brave St Mark’s Square. Even before ten o’clock it was rabid there, with huge crowds of tourists and a queue for the not-yet-open basilica. I sat on a bench by the gondola mongers watching the scene develop while I waited for my entrance slot to the Ducal Palace. I am told I visited it when I was last in Venice as a child, but I have no memory of it.

I wouldn’t have guessed from the outside how magnificent it really was within, every roof and wall so ornately painted with as much gold gilding the borders as there was fresco within. There were very good signs with information in each room, explaining its historical use and identifying every painting by its artist and subject. In other rooms they had impressive collections from the armoury, of a very different style to the Hapsburg weaponry I saw before. And then across the Bridge of Sighs into the bleak dungeons, the opposite in every way to the glorious rooms above. Of all, I liked most the Veronese fresco of Juno gifting a crown to Venice. I always like to see how artists represent places, cities as people. Civilisations choose to view themselves in interesting ways. After fighting my way back out of the crowds in St Mark’s Square I went to find a square of pizza for lunch before retreating to my little apartment where it was quiet and out of the sun—it lies just far enough from the main street that even though the open window allows every footstep and seagull’s cry in, it still seems far away from the Venice out there on the tourist thoroughfares, jammed between souvenir stalls and tour guides.

Eventually I recovered some energy and crept back out the door to wander the streets some more. While sitting in the middle of a square I became acquainted with some local children who were playing while their parents drank their aperitifs—a little boy stood on the ledge above my head throwing an empty plastic bottle to his sister below over and over which seemed to entertain them for a good fifteen minutes at least. I ate a dinner of pasta outside a restaurant on the canal closest to my accommodation, watching the steady stream of tourists heading back towards the train station at the end of the day. I’m already almost used to Italian mealtimes now, if only because I feel too awkward to eat out early when everyone else is still having their drinks and snacks elsewhere. So it was almost dark as I made my way back to bed, exhausted from the early start to the day. My second morning in Venice started out unusually similar to the first—I bought a piece of apricot crostata (nothing will ever come between me and my love for Italian apricot jam) and went back to St Mark’s Square. My joint ticket for the Ducal Palace also gave entrance to the Correr Museum at a separate time; I wasn’t really sure what to expect from the collection but I enjoyed it a lot. As well as many fine relics of antiquity and renaissance sculptures, they had some beautiful globes and maps, and those have always been a favourite of mine. Fra’ Mauro’s map of the world mounted on the wall was the most magnificent of these, five hundred years old, covered in colourful script describing hundreds of ancient cities. Unlike the Ducal Palace across the square, it was quiet enough amongst the palace’s many marble bodies, at least until one stepped back out into the square and fell back into the masses.

After picking up a small prosciutto roll I walked from the centre of Venice to the edge, where I caught the boat from Fondamenta Nove to the island of San Michele Cemetery. There the avenues held almost no company except for the occasional old Venetian taking flowers to a grave—every stone, even the older family ones, was adorned with some kind of bouquet or small garden bed, and there were even watering cans hanging next to taps so visitors could water the flowers. After walking around the cemetery for a while I sat in the shade by the church, until at last another boat arrived to take me back to the city of Venice. It was early afternoon and hot by then, and crowded, so I bought some fritto misto from a stand surrounded by pigeons scrabbling over pieces of calamari and went home for a nap. Before dinner I stopped for an Aperol spritz and some crisps (I don’t like Aperol, but I was feeling left out) and looked over the photos I’d taken that day, many of which were of the cats I have encountered loafing around doorsteps and town squares, more so than in any other city thus far.

For dinner I ate on the Rio Tera S. Leonardo, some tagliata with vegetables and polenta, followed by tiramisu served in a little teapot. Even though it was late for me, the true Italians were only still just arriving as I finished my dessert and paid, while the tourists shuffled west towards the train station. In the dark I followed the street signs Per San Marco to see the basilica at night—it was brightly coloured by a light show in the square, casting a glow upon every pale wall. The Rialto Bridge was mostly empty by the time I crossed back over, with only a few people standing to take pictures against the backdrop of night cruises and light upon the water. It was raining but only ever so lightly, just enough to make the paving stones glisten under streetlamps and outside restaurants. All the souvenir stands were shut up and the shops had their shutters pulled down to the floor, even all the pigeons had retired somewhere for the evening. I thought this was the true beauty of Venice, quiet with a cool breeze coming in off the water. I let myself in my front door and up the narrow winding staircase for the last time—in my mind I still heard the waves lapping up against the edge of the city, portside early in the morning, the sunlight was pouring in over the sea.

[libidomechanica]

“As it were wont to do”

A cinquain sequence

               I

The rack and pincers held in soft and distant land. As it were wont to do? Is not too fast.

               II

That gives way; and thou beside the strong in her Charms survived. And grew a seething of the fields.

               III

And tempte to the other. Near and fair your cruell ciuill warriour doth explored, cou’d make toward fever.

               IV

I iou to see and all that. Never fear. Tu-who; tu-whit, tu-who! And Love deny’d.

               V

Walke in Elisian field: is prison forth at length descry the bed. You make immortall hye.

               VI

Teach me, on a day, whose heart. My bent body mocks married men; for thee more carefull verse.

               VII

What the tall grass. Next, she has twa sparkling round as if she’s fretful, I have chosen it.

               VIII

Light a cigarette. Where I took my rounds along the porter than she. And by truant sheep.

               IX

Is your head wit golden foot or a fair desire. And wak’d his Box. For trust to think good?

               X

Lived as do the life that seem’d to heare, may scarse be told that we wish that loue? It from you, love.

               XI

Backwards, still to beholding me back again. You. As in theyr drouping hearth-stone blaze ouer all.

               XII

Who gave a Ball; or whether reioyce or weep: all be laid as low. Hear and beauty shall haue tride.

               XIII

Loose to entertayne. While, going obviously arrayd. My fear it can at last— at last!

               XIV

The poor did I know I have sworn deep discourse, o ioyfull verse. On her huge bright Order blaze?

               XV

No coward conquer, conquest of frost, hail, and would she scorner’s jest! Be she forth did them both.

               XVI

Always the eare that euer fedde in field refused me! A gentle Belle? She was still succeed there.

               XVII

For years, a measure; merry Flocke, adieu; but, alas, if in your hair into memory.

               XVIII

Belovëd,— where theyr decay, as you, or any good. I do love me food she did abyde.

               XIX

Through the blood. I wish that iustice I may gaine. Before me. The steadfast rock of Hazeldean.

               XX

Soul and with rigorous rage hys right. Diana. Gods who’s moving accident or release.

               XXI

Whatsoever than his own. Meet, if They be Just and prized in his time the things indeed so?

               XXII

Till greatest throne,—and Death- bed Alms are compel a well-built nest. Shaking dried mud from the next?

               XXIII

For thought you in a dream. Her snowy browes lyke to view: but think. Who swell thee grants his Pray’r.

               XXIV

While thus with such a n active countenance dew. Whose haruest wast, my hope it seems to looke.

               XXV

But knewe we fooles, what Virgin’s Thoughts. Cupid laid by his bride: and is fill, flyes back again.

               XXVI

In fact I care for. For, that low Bench, rising in the questions. We are ever thankles paine.

               XXVII

Burns to pass a day likewise I had told. And splendid smile. To let me sleep. Themselves do cry.

               XXVIII

Steel did them by the tide? His safe assuraunce. Which, with a sickly Mien shows in my darkness.

               XXIX

Next, she has twa sparkling roguish een. Ne any then spill. For kissing in clamor’s hour.

               XXX

I wont afore: vp grieslie ghostes and so the leaden strike so mortality. For your day.

               XXXI

Join; and when loosing one, sings that sicknesse lay; but oh! The brunt so strongly it to ruinate.

               XXXII

Until I grasp the Skies. The rolling Spleenwort in his grave, yet now past the hart, the gesture.

               XXXIII

When she ended were a wanton boy was his Dominion: no Nation of thy loue cherish.

               XXXIV

And screen’d in Shades, or brew fiercest, but rudely writ. In the long-contend. And could it still morne.

               XXXV

Much good die first thine arm! A good time, so free. Colin make immortalize. Calm ravish’d Hair.

               XXXVI

Sconce’s Height clapt his glory in the Fire. The rainbow wroth, life and all we are not any.

               XXXVII

Some guide … nor technical assistant a few steps. For beauty draws us with becoming.

               XXXVIII

Is it the koi kiss her. Yea, sweet loue, dearest deare return. Tell if thou suborn’d informer!

               XXXIX

For kissing Love’s beauties grace? Through the glory to be inclynd: that of her as they please me.

               XL

A worse to any challenge answer gets the day- light was gone and hold on. Say, if she’s mine.

               XLI

And that fiend that Sunne, whose to endured not. What strangers of the setting dark moved like before.

               XLII

Them mayst attune thy quill, and sighed among men, indeed. Twas he had implor’d propitious Ray.

               XLIII

That instance soon o’ertake his learne to constant of her louely and men’s eye? Too soon elate!

               XLIV

They loosening. Margaret stood in amaze, to sing to endure so tædious toyle, doth spot thoughts?

               XLV

Last Love, let it fly! I’m a man in the bold Thalestris’ Arms the Nymphs there is a garden.

               XLVI

Water, water faucet and mark with me. Love thee sing, as thou wilt be my love: little urn.

               XLVII

How I know the meaning o’er the Shrouds Aerial Whisper lost! Force of unresisted Steel?

               XLVIII

For my pardon of self- doing crime. And drizling drowns to kiss the haven within my breast.

               XLIX

As how you back carefull Colinet. For now each thou didest dye being leave his ray.

               L

Then in the Fire—even These the childbeater is come. And the World. My black-eyed rival came.

               LI

Speeds through the mind to moue, one pleasure past; an’ she hath display’d, each rope distinct, the cuckoo!

               LII

Let her Pray’rs, for Morning Sun descend, or sworn by the harder she is at rest. Hyacinths.

               LIII

But as your waters breed or bread on parish. Why wayle as the knows—what can give pleasure!

               LIV

When I feel the contentment they say, already sounde.—Jamie, come to me as a dreamer.

               LV

That he fayrest let vs eschew and body have need of my finger, now with a kisse.

               LVI

Wine comes back and loue embrace my bane. My face she has falling you of the winged God his place.

               LVII

—Tree of pity, its bark more bronze, the rose I lay. With loue may one answer’d; oh Fount of Light!

               LVIII

No coward soul is mine no trembles most terrifying kind. And want and that it isn’t true.

               LIX

And the mazie thick mass of you. Let me live, and must fall. And a helpe for his scythe to mone.

               LX

Frail, but from euening vntill morne. Tread light, but sudden spring I stood alone, till these thing air.

               LXI

A house or even the earthy top is tricked with little Weed below. To bathe at midday.

               LXII

So doe I not see the door, and mine no price nor beauty. Of disappeared—just two months gone.

               LXIII

Never, yet ever, are all my heart. A monkey had his bride: and when I do seeke the shore!

               LXIV

Hope to seeke the Sentence sign, and only will rob the tears the bayte her great eyes were of old?

               LXV

Ay francke shepherdess, esteem me, and long in civilization, this instant, anxious Care.

               LXVI

But mine’s the genteel and elegant scars. What so well as of one whom I could truly love.

               LXVII

Of neatness little rain is sore When I hope, ’ said I, was well. More translates the swarthy Moors.

               LXVIII

My youthful years the entrappe the things he: yet none as willing me so dear! The Bee him pained.

               LXIX

With starting was full of lies. Last Love, I did spy, resembling on the best agree, that much.

               LXX

By slaying flesh while the Finny Prey, fair Tresses Man’s Treat, but yet none may it mend with paine.

               LXXI

Or discompos’d their hearts are for any good. But what tho’ no Credit doubting Wits may give?

[tjreidwrites]

This is a write up I did as a review for the Estival Festival in Kankakee Illinois September 2023. I originally posted in on my band’s (Bluprint) Facebook page. I wanted to do something a little different. It’s more of a short story of my day at the fest disguised as a review/ write up. Hope you all enjoy!

•

I rounded up the corner where the sidewalk would end, leading to a bridge that went across the river. It was a good idea to walk, I thought. Short cut.

The bridge gently swayed as I crossed the water. The clouds threatened rain, but it ended up being a good day that saw only a light drizzle. Light shower to stay cool. Any Kankakee area native with their sanity knows that fall hoodie weather is the best time of year. Midwest vibes. Hurt- your- face cold winters. Hot ass summers. And falls you wished would last longer, of course.

I keep on past the baseball field.

Step forward, the louder the music.

Trees surround the bandshell. The Don Palzer bandshell, a stage that will be used the right way today. Situated naturally amidst a natural amphitheater of rugged rock and trees. I came from behind the action, catching glimpses of the drummer's head, the vocalist too, but branches covered the rest of the band. How do they load their gear up the rock like that? I would find out later that the answer was; efficiently

I think that’s Melodic Industries inc. They're good. The music made me feel like dancing. I put a little hop in my step. The sign coming in said in bright oranges and light blues; ESTY FEST.

When I got to the entrance of the festival, I was greeted by friendly security guards and the smell of pizza. The pizza smelled good, but I needed something quick. The next truck over had waffle hot dogs. Fare Square.

That hit the spot.

The music had everyone smiling and greeting each other. After meeting up with some friends, we walked over to where the beer was sold. It was great to see two places that I already trusted and liked; On The Rox and Ryan’s Pier, supplying the fresh cold brew. Melodic industries wrapped up a great set. Next, we got to headbang. My favorite. Ephinepic crushed it. The metal vocals were on point.

Those vox were wet .

“What are you grinning at?” Blain Smith said. He was capturing the festival in high definition video. Recap set to be movie quality from the man himself.

“This band is sick. I’m gonna check out some vendors.”

If I would have come prepared, I could have added onto my modest retro game collection efficiently at the fest. Three tents of awesome pop culture stuff and video games. I considered getting Pokemon diamond for my rusty old DS, but the wall of funko pops distracted me.

I used the well placed and convenient porter potty and hand wash station, then made my way to the other part of the fest. On the way, I noticed a play area for the kids. Thoughtful, family friendly. The neat vendor tents seemed to go on forever. No complaints, that’s a positive in my book. Everything on display was interesting. Halloween right around the corner? Plenty for that. Flowers. Sports. Wood werx creations. Art. Jewelry. All leading up to the second stage, Faber financial stage. The second stage was the perfect size, and placed in a great spot past the vendors and plenty far away enough from the main stage.

I made my way back to the Art and Sol main stage when I heard The Katzpa Jammas start. I was delighted at the beautiful high notes, with grit, and a talented band to go with it. From the moment they began, I was locked in and captivated until the end.

As the sun went down, Vaudevileins and Luck of the Draw killed it. The energy was up. Neon lights bounced off the rock and bandshell. A sight to see. Everyone is dancing and having a good time. And this is a free show, I thought.

The vibe came and it stuck.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay all night.

I trudged up the hill and around the back of the main stage. Carrying torches, a band that sounded pro as hell (and has a knack for sounding better all the time) was my soundtrack as I left the festival. Who says there's never anything to do? I would have paid to get in. The purple, blue, red and random colored stage lights illuminated the little cove. The cool breeze came off the water and hit my face as I rounded back to the bridge.

Every step, the music got a little quieter.

I smiled, still happy I decided to walk. Things like the Estival Festival can turn a shit day good again, if you let it. Events like that can provide a creative spark, if you let it.

I was across the bridge, almost home. The music faded, but it was still there in the background. The hurt-your-face winters and the hot ass summers seemed far away.

During that walk home, I lived in the moment and realized that I had been the entire day. Music, and spending a day with good people in the community could have had something to do with it.

Or it’s just about having a good mindset, I thought.

“Nah, it’s the music.”

#bluprintband #estivalfestival

[mothereliza]

Giving Thanks in All Circumstances

(Luke 22: 14-23) Anyone studying the life of Jesus our Lord will discover that it was his habit to worship in the synagogue or the Temple, reading or teaching. He practiced putting his faith into action - feeding the hungry, ministering to the sick, and interceding for the marginalized. Jesus also practiced the sacred traditions of giving, praying, and, most of all, giving thanks to God.

Luke 22 tells us about the incident in the Upper Room with his friends. They are about to eat, but before the meal, he [Jesus] took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his friends. Jesus taught mainly by example; he taught that every good gift comes from the hand of our loving Creator – the wheat for the bread, the rain to water the field, a good harvest, etc. 

Thanking God "through thick and thin" helps us to focus on the Giver and allows us to grow spiritually. Still, in this gospel, we don't pay attention to this moment of giving thanks with that mindset, mainly because the memory of this moment is a dark tale of the last meal Jesus shared with his closest friends. The memory brings distrust and pain. The enemy's hand was on the dinner table, eating bread with Jesus. But the scriptures also tell us that this moment, though gloomy in our eyes, was part of God's salvation plan for man. That doesn't make sin acceptable in God's eyes. It's' important to remember that a deliberate and evil scheme was planned against an innocent man. God hates sin. The gospel affirms this in verse 22, "woe to the betrayer." 

The betrayer in question was a close friend of Jesus. How often do people very close to you betray you? The awfulness is that your enemies could be people you thought to share a common interest – even family. Sometimes you know what they are doing, and sometimes you don't. But, let me ask – in times of trouble, how often do you consider that a dark moment in your life is part of God's plan to bring you where you must be for his bigger plan? Are you keeping your faith and always giving thanks? A hymn writer thoughtfully scripted the following words in the first verse of the famous old hymn, 'Lead kindly light:' "Keep thou my feet – I do not ask to see the distant scene. One step is enough for me." The words of the hymn remind us not to allow earthly things to confuse our focus on how BIG God is and how we fit in his plans. We must not forget to be grateful for what God has before us.

             To be truly thankful is to admit that you are not self-sufficient but dependent upon God's grace. Here is a true story about gratitude: John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, met a porter on his Oxford campus who did not have much of the world's goods. Yet the poor man amazed Wesley with his profound gratitude for what he did have. Wesley noticed the thinness of the man's old coat, and when he asked, the man said, "This is the only coat I have, and I thank God for it." Discovering that the man hadn't eaten much that day, Wesley was startled to hear him say that he was grateful to God for what he could afford to eat, which to Wesley, was not much. Wesley didn't leave it alone. He asked the man what else he was grateful to God for. The man answered: "I thank God for life, a heart to love, and a desire to serve." His answer stayed with Wesley for the rest of his life. Very impressive to find a poor man who practiced the holy habit of thanksgiving. 

The Old Testament prophet Habakkuk likewise expressed his gratefulness in a very unusual way, and he put it this way: even though his fig tree didn't blossom, his grape and olive crops failed, and his sheep and cattle died, he would rejoice in the Lord (Habakkuk 3:17). How about you? Do you express your faith in thanking God even when everything looks gloomy? It's hard to do.