#presents everyones art like pebbles i found on the beach

[deathianartworks]

Mimeatronic's from the gartic phone tonight (art by myself, @scrolpencer @dizzybizz and @keyarti )

Plus a bonus one because I love all of these so much

[jcmarchi]

Q&A: Helping young readers explore curiosity about rocks through discovery and play

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/qa-helping-young-readers-explore-curiosity-about-rocks-through-discovery-and-play/

Q&A: Helping young readers explore curiosity about rocks through discovery and play

It’s no secret that children love rocks: playing on them, stacking them, even sneaking them home in pockets. This universal curiosity about the world around us is what inspires psychotherapist and author Lisa Varchol Perron when writing books for young readers.

While in talks with publishers, an editor asked if she’d be interested in co-authoring a book with her husband, Cecil and Ida Green Professor of Earth, Atmospheric and Planetary Sciences Taylor Perron. The result was the picture book “All the Rocks We Love,” with illustrations by David Scheirer. The book introduces the many rocks showcased in it through play and discovery, two aspects that were part of the story since its inception. While aimed at readers aged 3-6, the book also includes back matter explainers about the rocks in the story to give older readers a chance to learn more.

Lisa and Taylor took a moment to talk about the writing process, working together, and tapping into our innate sense of curiosity as a means of education.

Q: Were either of you the kind of kid who had to pick up all the rocks you saw?

Lisa: Absolutely. I’ve always been intrigued by rocks. Our kids are, too; they love exploring, scrambling on rocks, looking on pebble beaches.

Taylor: That means we end up needing to check pockets before we put things in the laundry. Often my pockets.

Q: What has it been like formally collaborating on something?

Lisa: We’ve really enjoyed it. We started by brainstorming the rocks that we would cover in the book, and we wanted to emphasize the universality of kids’ love for rocks. So we decided not to have a main character, but to have a variety of kids each interacting with a different rock in a special way.

Taylor: Which is a natural thing to do, because we wanted to have a wide variety of rocks that are not necessarily always found in the same place. It made sense to have a lot of different geographic settings from around the world with different kids in all of those places.

Lisa: We spent a lot of time talking about where that would be, what those rocks would be, and what was appealing about different rocks, both in terms of play and their appearance. We wanted visual variability to help readers differentiate the rocks presented. The illustrator, David Scheirer, does such beautiful watercolors. It’s like you can reach in and pick up some of the rocks from the book, because they have this incredible, tangible quality.

Q: Going into that creative process, Taylor, what was it like working with the artist, finding that balance between accuracy and artistic expression?

Taylor: That was an interesting process. Something that not everyone realizes about picture books is that you’re not necessarily creating the text and the art at the same time; in this case, the text was there first and art came later. David is such an amazing artist of natural materials that I think things worked out really, really well. For example, there’s a line that says that mica schist sparkles in the sun, and so you want to make sure that you can see that in the illustration, and I think David did that wonderfully. We had an opportunity to provide some feedback and iterate to refine some of the geological details in a few spots.

Q: Lisa, you focus a lot on nature and science in your books. Why focus on these topics in children’s literature?

Lisa: We spend a lot of time outside, and I always have questions. One of the great things about being married to Taylor is that I have a walking encyclopedia about earth science. I really enjoy sharing that sense of wonder with kids through school visits or library read-alouds. I love seeing how much they know, how delighted they are in sharing what they know, or what questions they have.

Taylor: Most of the time when I think about education, it’s university education. I taught our introductory geology class for about 10 years with [Department of Earth, Atmospheric, and Planetary Sciences professor] Oli Jagoutz, and so had a lot of opportunities to interact with students who were coming out of a wide variety of secondary education circumstances in the U.S. and elsewhere. And that made me think a lot about what we could do to introduce students to earth sciences even earlier and give them more excitement at a younger age. [The book] presented a really nice opportunity to have a reach into educational environments beyond what I do in the classroom.

Q: Informal education like this is important for students coming into research and academia. Taylor, how has it influenced your own research and teaching?

Taylor: At first glance, it seems pretty different. And yet, going back to that initial discussion we had with the editors about what this book should be, one theme that clearly emerged from that was the joy of discovery and the joy of play.

In the classroom, joy of discovery is still very much something that can excite people at any age. And so, teaching students, even MIT students who already know a lot, showing them new things either in the classroom or in the field, is something that I’ll remember to prioritize even more in the future.

And, while not exactly the joy of play, students at MIT love hands-on, project-based learning; something that’s beyond seeing it on a slide, or that helps the picture leap off the page.

Q: Would you two consider working together again on a project?

Taylor: Yes, absolutely. We collaborate all the time: we collaborate on dinner, collaborate on kid pickups and drop-offs …

Lisa: [Laughing] On a picture book, as well, we would definitely love to collaborate again. We’re always brainstorming ideas; I think we have fun doing that.

Taylor: Going through the process once has made it clear how complementary our skills are. We’re excited to get started on the next one.

Q: Who are you hoping reads the book?

Lisa: Anyone interested in learning more about rocks or tapping into their love of exploring outdoors. At all ages, we can continue to cultivate a sense of curiosity. And I hope the book gives whoever reads it an increased appreciation for the earth, because that is the first step in really caring for our planet.

Taylor: I would be happy if children and their parents read it and are inspired to discover something outdoors or in nature that they might have overlooked before, whether or not that’s rocks. Sometimes you can look over a landscape and think that it’s mundane, but there’s almost always a story there, either in the rocks, the other natural forces that have shaped it, or biological processes occurring there.

Q: The most important question, and this is for both of you: Which rock in the book is your favorite?

Lisa: I am fascinated by fossils, so I would say limestone with fossils. I feel like I’m looking back through time.

Taylor: It’s a tough one; the mica schist reminds me of where I grew up in the Green Mountains of Vermont. So that’s my favorite for sentimental reasons.

The book is available for purchase on July 16 through most major booksellers. Lisa reminds people to also consider checking it out from their local library.

[ineloqueent]

if you forget me

Brian May x Reader

synopsis: i want you to know one thing.

warnings: sentiments of sadness

word count: 976

see the moodboard here!

⭒

1981 - 1982

There were many ways in which this could go. But only time would tell the course of his path. And yours.

You had always feared that you loved more deeply than those you loved, that they did not love you as you loved them. You had always had too much love to give, and yet, you were guarded in your ways, preferring to linger on the sidelines of things until you were absolutely, entirely, and unequivocally sure that the person you were acquainting yourself with was not simply treating you kindly out of politeness.

Everyone thought you were quiet, at first, until they got to know you well, and were comfortable with being around them, there was seemingly no limit to the number of words you could speak within the bounds of a minute.

But then you would reach a point, where you got just a little bit too close, a little too comfortable, and a fear would grip your heart.

You would disappear from communication with others from one moment to the next, first for hours, then for days, and eventually months. Unless of course they called you. And visited you. And spent time with you, and with their presence, reminded you that you were worthy of such love as theirs. That you were worthy of being remembered.

It was a silly pattern you had, and you knew it, but for the life of you, you could not break it.

And so it was with Brian as it was with all of the others.

It didn’t matter that you loved him, that you loved him more than you had ever loved anyone before. That never mattered. It was still you.

He was busy often, because Queen were busy often, and you did not like to bother him when he and the others were immersed in their music.

Instead, you watched from the sidelines, just as you had done before, before you had known him well.

He would sit up late at night and work longer, harder hours than anyone else, alone in the darkness for but the light of a single candle. It reflected off of his skin and he shone, bathed in the warmth of the glowing flame, and he became the moon, watchful, ever-present, pensive, inspiring. You watched him many nights like that, with your chin resting in your hand and your knees pulled close to your chest.

Summer soon turned to autumn, and amongst the red and brown leaves, you found yourself walking hand in hand with Brian, as the foliage fluttered to the ground about you, predecessor to snow. Your boyfriend’s eyes wandered often, and when they caught on yours, he smiled, and kissed your brow tenderly, as he so often did. You felt loved in those moments.

Still, he would forget you one day. You were sure of it.

In winter, you were lonely, as you always were. But then you would look, and find Brian, sitting by the fire and strumming softly upon his guitar. He would scribble indecipherable words down on the parchment-yellow of a notebook page, as the smell of gently burning firewood sank into your clothes, as the light from the flames lit the pages of the book you read. When the fire dulled, the clink of metal announced Brian’s attempts to revive it. Though his attempts were not always successful, they were valiant. And once, when you questioned aloud why he tried to revive the fire which would not burn, he set down the poker, and offered you a small, amused smile. Your partner walked over to your side, knelt before you, and kissed your fingers.

“To keep you warm, my love.”

Still, he would forget you one day. You were sure of it.

The seasons changed, as they always did, the sands of time’s unrelenting hourglass labouring away at their thankless job.

No one loved time.

Or perhaps, you thought, they love it too much.

No one likes losing time.

On occasion, you found yourself wondering if you were wasting Brian’s time.

But you soon forgot, on the nights when you crawled into bed and he curled himself around you, and you curled into him. He was a born protector, and would remain so forever.

The spring yielded new flowers, and a trip to Brighton, where you and your fiancé mostly spent time at the beach, skipping sea-smoothed pebbles, rushing into the cold water, lazing in the sun. Brian traced patterns into your skin with whorls of sand, and with his touch, you became a work of art. He told you so.

“I have never seen anyone more beautiful than you.”

Still, he would forget you one day. You were sure of it.

Summer turned to your corner of the world again, and flowers climbed the brickwork of the house you had bought with your Brian in the spring, as the temperature of the outdoors climbed, and a perpetual colour climbed into his cheeks.

The weeping willow in your garden provided little shade, but the breeze of the day was cool, and the air was not hot, but warm.

On a tartan blanket you lay with your husband, wrapped in his arms as the sun twinkled overhead, as surely as the stars would when they came out in the nighttime.

His forehead rested against yours, and your heart beat with his.

He combed his fingers through your hair and kissed your forehead, your eyelids, your cheeks, your jaw, your chin, your mouth— and oh, with a sweetness so much as fire, as he breathed you in and you breathed him, two tandem souls upon the long and winding road of life, so small in the world but still everything to one another.

And it was then that he told you, and then that you knew—

“I could never forget you.”

[aquarianwisp]

Everyday things you can do to build your witchy supplies and cheap ways to do it

Burning to get your witchy supplies started but have no idea where to start? My suggestion- start anywhere and with everyday things!  Herbs To get a herb collection started, you do not have to have homegrown herbs or herbs from metaphysical stores which can be pricey. You can start a simple herb collection with just herbs available from your grocery store. If you are not a green thumb or you live in an apartment with no space for a garden, this is a really good option for getting a collection started. Just because something came from the grocery store doesn’t make it any less magical, and many people are under the impression that due to the mundane nature of how the herbs were obtained they are therefore less effective. This is not true at all! If you like doing the whole drying process yourself, you can go to the fresh food sections and pick up bunches of basil, parsley, mint, peppermint, rosemary, sage, dill, lemongrass, coriander, tarragon, oregano etc very cheap and usually already in a perfect bundle ready to be dried! You just need to take them home and hang them up somewhere dry for a few days to a week or so before they will be all dried and ready to use. If you are lazy and can’t be bothered or don’t have time to do the drying process, you can go to the spice section and find many of these same herbs already chopped up and dried out. If the packaging on the product makes you feel a bit “meh”, just take them home and place them in a jar or other similar container where they can remain dry, and the look of the container makes you feel inspired. 

Gathering herbs and flowers is another really great option. Of course, if you are not experienced in recognizing wild herbs and flowers, I recommend you practice gathering a bit differently. Try gathering with the help of your community. Some of your neighbours might be green thumbs and be willing to share some of their plants with you. I used to live near someone who hedged their garden with basil, and every time their basil hedges grew out of control they would trim them. They were happy to give me the trimmings of their basil plants. They also gave me the rosehips that they had on their rose bushes, and if they had roses or lavender growing I would always ask for some trimmings if they were willing to share. People are actually more generous with their gardens than you think! A lot of avid gardeners are always willing to share cuttings as well, so if you know how to grow from a cutting this is a really good way to also build a herb collection. Any dandelions I see around my home I like to gather for drying, and any other flowers I can easily recognize such as hibiscus, daisies, frangipani, marigolds, chrysanthemum, cherry blossom, magnolia etc I will always try to gather a bit here and there. Another really cool option is to go to community gardens and gather the plants there that you can use, where they are labelled and everyone is free to take what they need! Save your orange or citrus peels for drying as well, as you can use these to emit the smell of their essential oils when placed over a heat source!  Herbal teas are another really great option to safely consume herbs. Of course, check with your medical practitioner as some herbs contained in teas may cause issues with medications etc, (You can never be too safe when it comes to things you choose to eat/drink) however, herbal teas are a really great way to enjoy the benefits of the herbs in a safer manner than say, walking onto the street, picking up what you think is a certain type of herb and then making a tea out of it.  Jars Jars are simple to obtain, and you do not have to start buying a million jars from your local dollar store just to have that witchy aesthetic that everyone seems to want. Recycle the jars from your food to store herbs or to use in spells. Pasta sauces, mayonnaise, anchovies, preserved foods, peanut butter, etc etc, anything that comes in a jar. Not only is this a great way to reduce waste, but glass is a safer option for storing things as you will not have the nasty toxins from plastic leaching into your herbs, oils, moon water, floral waters etc, and they look so much more attractive than plastic. And having all sorts of types of jars in different sizes and shapes makes for a very rustic witchy aesthetic look anyway. Collect natural objects Homeware stores have started selling bits of driftwood, false flowers, shells, pinecones, pebbles etc for ridiculous prices so that rich people can look fashionable and “rustic”. There is no point in buying these things when you can go to the beach and pick up a piece of driftwood or some shells for free. Objects picked up in their natural environment also seem to retain their energies more so than those objects that have been commercialised. Scour your local nature strips or parks for pretty looking dried leaves, pine cones, nice shaped rocks and anything else that inspires your witchiness. Make sure that you respect the spirits of these areas. Do not take more than what you need, and ensure that you ask permission from the spirits before taking. It is always good to leave an offering in its place- usually something organic such as fruit, seeds or nuts which can feed the local ants or birds.

Collect ribbons and coloured paper Every time it’s Christmas or you are given a gift, save the ribbons or wrapping. String has so many uses in witchcraft, and different colours have different meanings that can be used in all sorts of rituals. You can reuse them as well if you don’t end up burning them. Coloured paper can also take on meanings if you will it so. Tell people you want candles for Christmas Tell everyone who asks what you want for Christmas or your birthday that you really want to decorate your space and you love candles and you are dying to get some. Then watch as all your friends and family give you tons of different types of candles. Trust me, you can never go wrong with this. Candles are often so cheap that people will buy heaps of them for you in different colours and fragrances. The other good thing about this is that if people know you are a witch and they want to buy you a witchy type present they will often have no idea what to get you and will default to a candle.  Buy candles from the lighting/electrical/barbeque section of a grocery store. Buying candles from a speciality metaphysical store, a homewares store, or even a dollar store can be expensive. But many grocery stores sell candles to be used in emergency blackouts or power outages, and some have started selling these types of candles in different colours as well. They often come in bulk packs and work just as well for half the price. You can also buy birthday candles and use those for your spells, especially if you need to do a quick spell.  If you are after some really beautiful white candles, buy candles listed as “church candles”. These are sold cheaper than other white candles, probably because churches get all sorts of discounts. But they often are moulded in a really classical shape so they can look sometimes more beautiful than just your plain ol’ white candle. You do not have to burn your entire candle down for a spell to be effective. If you don’t write your own spells you will often see spell instructions telling you to allow the candle to completely finish burning. This is a waste of time and a waste of the precious candles that you conned every one of your family members into buying you last Christmas. It is also ridiculous- some candles burn for 18 hours or more, and it is totally unsafe to leave candles unattended. Do you have 18 hours to monitor a candle? Nope. You can cheaply make your own specialised spell candles, you do not have to waste 20 dollars on one from a metaphysical store. Yes, that’s right, with a microwave and a cheap candle you can carefully melt the wax down, add a wick in one of those jars you saved and then add all the herbs and fragrant oils, flowers, or whatever you want to the melted wax before allowing it to dry. There is a lot of tutorials for this on the internet, but please make sure you go for candles that do not have a foil or aluminium wick holder on the bottom as these will catch fire in your microwave. Candlesticks with nothing but wax and a wick at the top are best for this. Please take precautions with hot wax. Otherwise, there is no reason why you need that fancy candle for triple the price.  You do not need a fancy obsidian scrying bowl, a kitchen bowl with water works fine! That’s right! Those metaphysical stores who try and make you buy an expensive obsidian plate for scrying seem to have forgotten that water scrying is an art that has existed for centuries! Any reflective surface can be used for scrying, it doesn’t have to be a fancy looking crystal object. Learn to read playing cards for divination You do not need to spend on tarot if you cannot afford it. Pick up some playing cards and use the power of the internet to learn how to read them for divination! If you are a closet witch as well, no one will suspect a deck of playing cards either. Print pictures of deities at a photo store. Never before has it been cheaper to print pictures now that digital has taken over. My local department store has a photo printing station where you can buy photo prints for 5 cents. I take a USB of pictures I like of my deities that I found online and print them off as photos. Then I frame them in dollar store frames. BAM! You have an altar set up for a few dollars.

Buy festive decorations after the season has passed If it’s yule time and you are dying to decorate your house with holly, red and green, pine etc, wait until the next year to decorate (I know, it sucks, but if you’re frugal you can dig this). Go to a dollar store and buy up big after the Christmas period has ended in preparation for the next year. Holidays such as Christmas, Easter and Halloween have become so commercialised that there is a serious overproduction of decorations each year and after the season has passed the stores just want to get rid of stuff as fast as possible. This is when you can jump in and get some witchy looking objects for a really cheap price. What’s great is that a lot of dollar stores sell some very witchy looking decorations during these typically Christian festivals- Bunnies, eggs, chickens, skeletons, pine branches, holly, cauldrons, etc without realising. Splurge on expensive incense when you can. 20 dollar packet on incense? Get it. My advice here is- quality really shows when it comes to incense. I am a massive incense fan, but whenever I can afford it (which is not always, sometimes I too have to go for the two dollar packets) and I find a really nice packet of pricey incense I go for it. Why? The cheaper the incense, the faster the burn time and the less resin it contains. One of the reasons that incense gets that burnt smell is because it contains sawdust to help it burn. Cheaper incenses smell less fragrant and burn faster because most of the resins coating the sticks are substituted with more sawdust. That way, the manufacturer keeps the costs of production down. More expensive incense sticks often have a ton more resin in their coating, smell more potent, and burn slower with a more beautiful smoke colour. They are well worth their price, and when you experience it you will want to always try and get the pricier sticks. The more expensive sticks also tend to have more of the real resins in them. Sandalwood, for example, is actually an endangered species and has become very expensive to buy. So manufacturers who create cheap incenses often substitute with sandalwood smelling substances but never really use the real thing. If you can afford it, go for incense sticks manufactured with real Australian sandalwood. Australian sandalwood smells extremely similar to Indian sandalwood and is specifically farmed for incense production. Thus you are getting the real thing but you are not contributing to the endangerment of Indian sandalwood which is a culturally sacred species that needs to be protected. That being said, my point here is quality and a long lasting product will save money over time when it comes to incense. 

Anyway, that’s all for my witchy money saving tips for now! I hope this helped you!

[markoftheasphodel]

Thoughts on the Jagen Club (FEH-centric)

So I drafted this last year, when I started playing with “Depression Meals” and then “This Could Be Us,” then sat on it for about a year. The rundown on Gharnefs compiled by @airlock inspired me to finish this up and get it out because it ain’t doing me any good sitting in my drafts, is it? This basically just served as my initial round of impressions on how FE Heroes was treating my beloved class of “veteran horsey-type knights” aka Jagens and why the Heroes representation inspired me to write crack ‘fic and less cracky explorations of the gang.

So, here goes...

Jagen: Good Grandpa

Jagen rocks. No, seriously, I love this guy and I love what Heroes did with him visually and character-wise (unit-wise... well, none of these are top-tier units and we will leave it at that). See, one gets the feeling Jagen's had a really good life up to at least late middle age. He came from a small but prosperous kingdom where life was good, he served a worthy king, and basically he's got joie de vivre animating him even in his obvious old age.

(This is one reason I kind of view Jagen as the actual ideal knight in FE. If you're a young knight and you end up like him, good on you. You end up like some of these others, my condolences. Kids like Roderick and Silas should take note.)

He's not that complex-- just a good-hearted old warhorse stomping around to prove he can keep up with the colts. My favorite line is probably the one he uses for a bad level-up, though-- a bracing shot of self-contempt: “I have dishonored my rank and my country.”  

Gunther: Bad Grandpa

He looks like Axe Jagen. Past middle age, thinks himself as a parent-figure to his liege Corrin, offers to chat over tea. But unlike Jagen, his kingdom's a mess, his life is shot through with tragedy (the scar on his face is, as usual, representative of more than skin damage), and Gunther lets it all hang out during one of his specials quotes: “I will have my revenge!” That and the line “My armor has known...so much blood” hints that there’s more to this guy than tea parties. So what’s the deal with Gunther? Uh... depends on which route(s) of Fates you played. Heroes doesn’t really pick a “side” as far as Gunther goes so IDK look up Revelation on a wiki I guess. It’s wild.

But the way he presents himself is quite engaging! Would have tea with, etc.

Titania: Team Mom

Confident and chatty Titania is the resident ray of sunshine among veteran horsey-riders. She’s happy to take up menial tasks because they gotta be done, but she’s definitely working for a cause on a level beyond “money talks” or even abstract honor. She’s into training, but for the stated reason that practice and being on top of one’s game keeps one alive, and Titania is very, very invested in everyone staying alive. Training isn’t a quirk so much as it is part of her overall practical and constructive approach to life and duty... though there are a couple of hints that Titania’s beginning to feel her age (she’s like, 30!).

And then we get her Valentine’s alt, Warm Knight Titania, who keeps the practical “money can’t buy happiness” approach to life but is very obviously all wrapped up in the feelings for her Commander that went unspoken during his lifetime... and the prospect of a second chance thanks to all these alternate timelines colliding.

Overall just as Jagen IMO represents a damn good representation of an ideal knight at the end of the road, Titania-- despite or perhaps because she quit being an actual knight-- is a beautiful integration of Duty and Training and Covert Romantic Feelings and Familial Affection without coming down too hard on any one element.

Frederick: Wacky Uncle

As a 3DS-era character there's not much surprising about Frederick for anyone who's played Awakening. Endearingly voiced by Kyle Hebert, Freddy adores his lord Chrom and hates disorder and bear meat. He’s got an alt, summoned from a beach vacation, who is obsessively cleaning up seashells and confessions to “sinning” by which he apparently means taking a break.

I admit to holding a subversive view of Frederick in that his zeal to be a great knight is undermined by all of his tics and quirks and that's part of why he and everyone else ended up dead in the original timeline-- and Heroes doesn't change my mind on that point. His fixation on clearing the garden weeds and rising early to pick up pebbles sound less like doing the menial tasks that somebody’s gotta do and more like make-work that Frederick does because something compels him to. Still, Frederick's rocking so much joie de vivre of his own that it's impossible to not like the guy. The man likes what he does, what can I say?

Still should’ve had “Pick a god and pray” in his arsenal of voiced lines somewhere.

Finn: Hot Mess #1

When Finn-- the only member of this crew whose home games never came out worldwide-- hit FEH I remember one Redditor snarking that they didn’t understand why other fans were so excited about another Frederick-style “lapdog” character. Finn indeed presents as the latest model number of “stoic and dutiful knight” on the surface... and then the trauma, debilitating melancholy, and lack of self-preservation leaks out line by line (and given two of these tell-tale lines are at 1* rarity, it’s meant to be obvious).

His identity is all wrapped up not just in some conception of being a knight but in his lance (a gift from his late lord Quan, of course)-- an object, a tool. He's at least two decades younger than Jagen (and Gunter), but whereas the old guys are determined to prove they've got life in them yet, Finn's past caring if he survives the next battle. Unlike Titania, he’s not fondly reminiscing about the happy little moments raising his adolescent liege Leif or his “daughter”/ ward Nanna. He’s not interested in pulling weeds or doing the laundry-- he’s anxious to know the layout of the castle in case it gets torched... when he’s not obsessively repairing that lance, that is. He’s got zero quotes on the value of training compared to least three indicating he's fine with ending up dead. So yeah, Finn’s basically Antimatter Titania.  Meanwhile he’s voiced to sound about twenty years older than he looks, which seems to be deliberate for both NoJ and NoA.

Finn’s more like a cautionary tale to the Rodericks and Silases of the world-- sure, you can be this guy, but who’d want to be? He sure looks pretty in his attack art though...

Seth: Hot Mess #2

Ooh, boy. Seth has what's arguably the greatest storyline scene FEH has afforded a supporting character in all of Book I... possibly in all the mainline Heroes chapters. It evokes his rebuke to Ephraim in Eph's version of Ruled By Madness and it's awesome. But the Seth we get in Heroes is a very... intriguing... look at what's underneath the shiny surface of the Silver Knight. There’s some Training stuff, a sense the man has Opinions but is struggling to stay in his place, a reference to the wound he got from Valter and an admission he’s not fun to be around. And then it gets a bit weird.

“Do not trouble yourself over my well- being. I would play the pawn gladly, would it bring us victory.“

He isn't just unattached to his own survival the way Finn is, Seth is actively advising the Summoner to keep enough distance to make it easier for them to send Seth to die. Repeatedly. Maybe the pain of his half-healed wound is driving him mad, maybe he's afraid unspoken feelings for Eirika will turn him to the dark side, but Seth is kinda messed up. And whereas honestly every iffy thing about Finn was already there in the Jugdral games and their side materials, Seth’s FEH presentation came as a shock to me and I’ve seen it flat-out called “Out of Character” elsewhere. The hint of a playful side from his support chain with Natasha, for instance, is nowhere to be found here. It’s odd and kind of compelling and yet not terribly likable, in my opinion. Frederick needs to chill and Finn needs a hug (and probably some anti-depressants), but Seth... I dunno. He needs friends, maybe? Cormag when.

“I answer destiny's call!” is a damn good line, though.

Bonus Clive and Mathilda (The Lovebirds): 

The Legendary Knight and her Idealistic boyfriend are not technically Jagens (that’s Mycen, subverting the archetype almost as soon as it was established), but they’re veteran cavalier/paladin types in their late 20s, likely of an age with Seth and Frederick at least and not many years younger than Titania and Finn. So, how do they measure up personality-wise? 

Clive and Mathilda have the advantage that their Heroes incarnations hit at virtually the same time their FE15 selves did, so there's not as much revelatory about them. Same VAs (Grant George is fantastic), consistent designs, consistent personalities. Clive struggles a bit with his dilemmas from FE15 and has a hilarious line where he’s taking care of his own horse because the Order of Heroes apparently has no staff (for the record, he says he enjoys caring for the horse). Mathilda meanwhile has a couple of quotes about her love for Clive and quite a bit about her concerns regarding Clive’s sister Clair. They’re not very extreme personalities-- even Titania, well-rounded as she is, comes across as more extreme than Clive & Mathilda thanks to her open zeal for life. I’m not quite sure how they’d come across to someone who hadn’t played FE15, as the nature of Clive’s doubts in particular are merely hinted at here. 

They’re good supporting characters but there’s a reason my Jagen-club stories don’t use them as focal points.

Not available: Mycen, Arran, Oifey, Marcus... after two damn years.

[everydayispurple]

Lust comes in many forms here in Hollywood, as well as out there beyond the Tinsel where it’s a tad more… normal? You’ve got your sexual lust, power lust, wanderlust, object lust, lust for intimacy, lust for that which dare not speak its name, follower lust, lost youth lust, future lust, pornographic lust, biblical lust, virtual lust. Anyway you skin it, though, lust is interestingly something wholly contained to our own psyche. It has no antecedent, no binary, only fractal likenesses spreading out over history, the now, and the speculative future. Sure, two lusters may collide between the sheets following a plastics convention in Islamabad, around a hearty bowl of moqueca de camarao in a Bahian resort, or a ’67 Porsche 911 in Pebble Beach. But what’s to say these individuals’ lust for the other’s body, the soup, the auto, is equivocal, let alone measurable? No, lust, in its rawest form, is something we must repress, exercise, weigh, or value entirely on our own.

Consider the new record from superstar, Lana Del Rey: Lust for Life. When considering, might we assume this particular “lust” to have some corrupted layer to it? Some sort of invasive, or melancholic, or alienating undertone? Something mysterious?* Why might we? Well, because those are the sort of insinuations we tend to foist upon the Lana Del Rey we’ve come to know, or presume we know, over the last near decade, be it through the multitudinous, oft-confounded media halo around her, or perhaps our own desire for her to personally fulfill on some of the themes bandied about her discography. Lana Del Rey is mentally unwell. Lana Del Rey is violence-obsessed. Lana Del Rey is lost in an abandoned era. Lana Del Rey is… happy? “I think I was feeling happy that I was present, and not afraid in a way that I couldn’t enjoy my everyday things,” the musician says of the new record’s title, sat in blue jeans, cross-legged on the floor of a Chateau Marmont hotel suite, enjoying French fries and a Diet Coke on a balmy, breezy Friday afternoon. “I’m the kind of person that really loves those things. Like when I drive, I love every road, and I can’t believe that I’m in L.A. I love the architecture, grabbing a coffee, striking up conversation with the people I encounter. And I hate when I can’t enjoy the little things because in the back of my head I have concerns or preoccupations. So for me, it was that sort of lust for life. It was kind of just about happiness.”

Are we ok with that? Can we appreciate a lust from Grammy-nominated Del Rey if it’s not tortured or muddied, glass eyed, drowning in itself? Can this fifth full-length follow previous efforts with titles like Born to Die (2012) or Ultraviolence (2014) with calm, with appreciation for the light and the trees and the way our foamy cappuccino looks so god damned beautiful? It doesn’t really matter, for we’ll never know this lust’s exactitude as I suggest above, and that’s ok. And anyway, nothing is more undefinable or elusive than happiness. What does matter is that the songs on the record possess an incredible richness in production, there’s some excellent and legendary guests on a few tracks, and from the artist’s point of view, a kind of carving down in scope, what I’ll venture to call a distinct maturation in her oeuvre. “The record has fewer dimensions,” she remarks. “But they’re more beautiful than in the past. I had no idea that would make it easier to talk about.” Has this ease with discussing the content perhaps coincided with a sort of softening, or openness toward her in the arenas of public or journalistic reception? “I feel that,” she says thoughtfully. “And it’s helped me be more open as well. Because it’s hard to talk about your innermost feelings if you feel the reception will be cold. And I hung back for a while. I did a handful of interviews, but not many in the last few years. But also I was writing and writing, and digging through stuff, and not writing things as easy to digest or discuss. It still comes from me, but as I’ve evened out as a person, I don’t have as much I don’t want to say. I feel comfortable.”

Comfortable could describe the carefree roost Del Rey and fellow pop success, The Weeknd, take atop the “H” of the iconic Hollywood sign in the title track music video for Lust for Life, which shares its name with a seminal record from another pop chameleon – Iggy Pop – and is released a few days before our sit down. The treatment is surreal and campy, almost goofy, in a manner that decadently rams home this happy sentiment, this appreciation for the minute to minute. The two sweetly croon about taking off one another’s clothes, but remain fully and stylishly swaddled, canonically perched up there above us all, as if a second set of lovers might be drifting on some paddle boat below through the “O,” only to be serenaded into an amorous spell before vanishing into the night. The video ends with Del Rey overtaking the frame, batting her signature lashes before a sort of cat-ate-the-canary-like smile spreads over her face and all succumbs to darkness.

An evening out as a person. Ironic then, and downright fun, that while this evening out of Del Rey’s personal temperament has found its sonic outlet – refined and leaner – the artist steps into the cosmically perverse, rehearsed, and beautiful universe of celebrated artist David LaChapelle. Here, instead of playing Lana Del Rey for her cover shoot, which we’ve chiefly only ever seen, she embodies everyone else. Their lust, their dreams, their encumbering. The singer enlivens her Instagram geotag “Hollyweird” with some proper role playing.

“Da-vid La-Chapelle. Whoa. Da-vid La-Chapelle,” Del Rey says breathily, demonstrably dropping her jaw, while recounting her 14 hour photo shoot with the art photographer. Yes, David LaChapelle: that scramble-slinging riot boy of the Wild West, whose pumped petrol from Pepsi cans, breast milk from dad bands, and inimitable flair from celebrity after celebrity, all of course while flooding museums and arming utopianistas, while whirling through fame and hurt and photo sets and inward plunges and friends and cities and applause. Da-vid La-Chapelle. And fittingly, one of the more influential molders of modern lust, and in particular Hollywood lust, all prismatic and decadent, of the last 50 years.

“I just couldn’t believe it,” Del Rey says. “Because I always make things really hard to work, because I don’t want to talk that much. So I had defiantly said to someone, ‘Don’t ask me unless David LaChapelle is shooting it.’ And then I get a call from Stephen Huvane [a partner in Slate PR], and he’s like ‘David LaChapelle is shooting it and you’re going to do it.’ So when I got to his studio, which is like a few blocks from my house, I was blown away. He’s amazing. And he thinks big picture, and different picture, and textures, and he doesn’t want to do a simple portrait right now because that’s not where he is in his life. And I’m the same way. I don’t want to make a pop record if I’m feeling more acoustic, for instance. And so he’s very true to his own space. There’s not that many people that I would follow into the unknown, so to speak, but with him, I would probably do most of what he suggested.”

I speak to LaChapelle over the phone. He’s just had lunch with his staff at his Hollywood studio, and no, he “doesn’t want to” discuss the process behind Del Rey’s photos technically, or even creatively – save to say that he’s happy with the images. When questioned why he determined to create the cover story, given he so rarely creates editorial images for magazines anymore in light of global exhibitions and museum showings, he remarks, “I have had a relationship with Flaunt for a long time. Lana’s a down-to-earth person. I like her writing. I saw her show at the Hollywood Bowl, and really liked the music, and that inspired the concept and ideas for the photos. Lana was interested in the artistic angle, not a promotional angle, which I really liked. Much more interested in creating art than promoting something.”

A couple weeks back, on set at LaChapelle’s studio, upon Del Rey’s arrival, he points to a handful of easels containing perhaps 15 vintage photographs, blown up large, the pixels swelling. These nostalgic, quotidian moments are today’s creative template. The content? There’s your requisite, slightly tilted living room snap where subjects stare stonily at a television, taken from an adjacent La-Z-Boy. There’s vacations to national parks. There’s weddings. There’s piss ups. There’s youth and death and that gray, cumbersome in-between period where we mutate as far as we can from either end, only to return fundamentally unaltered. It’s all very American, very pastoral, archetypes piled atop clichés, atop Heartland mores. At the bottom of the centered easel is an August haze-soaked summer camp scene of your requisite teepees, oak trees, and some white guy in profile sporting an American Indian-style headdress. Having this particular morning all witnessed Pepsi’s whitewashed plunge into the hellfire of failed advertising with their now retracted Kendall Jenner spot [which pretty inarguably suggested the Black Lives Matter or Women’s March movements viable plot points for Pepsi as Great Equalizer], concern is raised over cultural appropriation and the risks run. LaChapelle considers the concern, but shakes his head and supplies, “It’s not appropriation. You’re just playing a character.”

True. Playing a character is borrowing or homage, whereas appropriation could be said to mean taking and using without permission. And in the case of Pepsi: bastardization, insensitivity, myopia. In her videos, it could be said that Del Rey has stepped into a variety of self-representations, or roles, and this adventure into the unknown with Mr. LaChapelle certainly demonstrates her chameleon-like aptitude for character making on photo sets. Still, she shares the unfamiliarity and challenges for her in extending this to song.

Notably, there is a track on Lust for Life, recorded with Sean Lennon, a layered and playful number that explores, among other things, John Lennon and Yoko Ono – a canonical deity of lust and artistry if ever there was – that sees Del Rey refreshingly step outside her own paradigm. “I felt like it belonged to someone else,” she says of the single, “Tomorrow Never Came.” “And I never feel that, because I like to keep everything for myself. I thought it might be strange for Sean to sing a song about John and Yoko as well. But I think the fact that I sing, ‘Isn’t life crazy now that I’m singing with Sean.’ It points to the fact that we’re both aware. I didn’t want it to come out exploitative in any fashion. Not that it would. Still, I wanted to be as careful as possible. I wanted it to come across layered with this sort of meta narrative mixed in. In a way it’s a song about a song.”

I speak over the phone to Lennon, currently in New York, who originally received a very simple version of the song from Del Rey with only her vocals, guitar, and an organ. “To me,” he shares, “Ninety-nine percent of what is magical about that song was already contained in her original vocal performance. I felt like it was my job to simply highlight and accentuate what was already there in her voice and melody, and in her lyrics. Everything I played was merely ornamental, like tailoring a ballroom gown on an already stunning woman: the only way to mess up is if you take away from or disguise the beauty that is already there.”

Considering the lineage in the song and their first collaboration together, I ask Lennon what he learned from the experience. “She has exceptional taste,” he remarks. “I told her that working on her song was a valuable lesson since I often modulate and take unintuitive chordal and melodic twists and turns, and she reminded me that you can be perhaps even more compelling if the melodies and chords feel natural and intuitive, not contrived or disorienting as in my music. Anyway I’ll never forget when she called me after I sent her what I did and her first words were ‘It’s perfect!’ I almost cried with joy because I honestly don’t think anyone has ever said that to me about anything I’ve ever done. It was a very good feeling.”

Beyond the meta-awareness of the lyrics and rich instrumentation [Lennon added “acoustic six- and 12-string guitar, electric guitar, lap steel, upright bass, vibraphone, harpsichord, orchestra bells, drums, and Mellotron strings, and shaker”], a particularly resonant lyric repeats itself a handful of times: You weren’t in the spot you said to wait. I ask Del Rey if there are running themes of stasis or waiting elsewhere on the record. “I think that’s why I felt that of anything on the record, that wasn’t my song,” she considers. “I didn’t feel like I was waiting for anything. It’s really not about anything personally, except that I love the sonics of it; the filters. I try to be as careful as I can that I’ll want to sing stuff on stage that I write. And that song will be an easy one to do because it doesn’t pull at any heartstrings or anything. And I know it’s special to Sean as well, because he’s his dad’s biggest fan. And so I like that, in a small way, they had a moment, in whatever surreal way that could happen.”

And so with maturity, and the cool calm that Del Rey has amassed, five albums later, she’s able to play someone else, it seems, in song. But like she mentioned, that was a step outside the norm. And I’m not sure the world is all too ready for that anyway. Earlier, as Del Rey arrived in the lobby of the Chateau, we shared a hug and swapped some chit chat while her surprisingly young and surprisingly English manager, Ben Mawson, secured a suite for our interview. Mawson, returning, mentioned his ambitions to visit a mystic in Santa Barbara, smoothly coaxed Del Rey’s cars keys to do so from her reluctant hands (like any accomplished manager ought), and left us and his tab in a stylish puff of smoke as the singer and I strolled toward the elevators. We’re welcomed by a member of the Chateau’s attractive staff, who shares some familiar sweetness with Del Rey, and enters the elevator with us. After some run of the mill small talk regards Del Rey’s new L.A. home of which the staffer has some knowledge, the singer in turn asks how things have been at the Chateau, the Hollywood fixture for celeby notables, bolognese bowls, and rabbit holes. “Oh you know,” the woman remarks. “Things change out there in the world, but here, they stay the same.”

The change out there in the world has indeed been pretty seismic. Accordingly, you have my personal favorite track on the record, “God Bless America,” an unbridled spanker of a song that’s title refrain is followed by, “And all the beautiful women in it”—that’s instantly echoing through your melon and one in which Del Rey remarks, “Yeah, I went there.” She describes the song, of which Mawson shared earlier his reluctance to release as a single, given the tendency of Del Rey to net the mentioned public polarization, “It has some strong messaging,” she says nodding. “Some iconography, with Lady Liberty, fire escapes and the streets, and I do get a little New York feel when I listen back to it.” I tell her the song feels grandiose in production, anthemic in verse… very New York in fact, a sparkling pile of empire and accomplishment. And while New York (and its banks) have churned out the free world leader and a boys club not so concerned about everyone therein being blessed, moreover the “beautiful women in it”—reminding us that grandiosity has its pitfalls—“God Bless America” could easily ascend the ladder as a 2017 rally cry.

I ask her if she feels the appropriative nature of the song title may stir any pots of sorts.”Well, it’s the God word,” she says measuredly. “But the phrase has wider meaning. It’s more of a sentiment. When I wrote it I didn’t feel like it was confined to a traditional portrait of the Lord, as some sects might see it. It was more like, ‘Fucking God bless us all and let’s hope we make it through this.’ She further explains the genesis, “When all the Women’s Marches were happening, I had already written this song, because I had been hearing a lot of things online. And I have a sister, and a lot of girlfriends, who had a lot of concerns about things that were being said in the media by some of our leaders. And I saw an instant reaction from women, and I was like, ‘Wow. There is no confusing how women are feeling about the state of the nation.’ And so without really trying to, I felt compelled to just write a song and say we are all concerned. And it really made me think about my relationship with women. And I felt proud of myself, because I do love the women in my life. And I take care of them, and I ask them what they think about music, and guys, and problems, and I thought it was so cool that I’m really right there in the same boat with them. And sometimes I’m not. Sometimes I feel like I’ve got my finger right on the pulse of what’s going on, and then some of my music comes out and it’s like, ‘Fuck, that was a miss. Fuck, that’s not what people feel, at all. But with this, I was right there with everyone.”

Considering the caution from management around the track, I ask Del Rey if the potentiality for rib kicks, or what have you, is particular to her, not just someone famous. Does she feel she’s been on the receiving end of a sort of media lust? A presumptive, dutiful debunking of myths? “Perhaps,” Del Rey considers. “Or the journalists don’t have enough going on personally andthey feel like their contribution to current culture is myth building. It’s either one. It’s a broad mix. And I’ll definitely take accountability for how my energy has informed a lot of not true stories. But 50% of that has just been someone’s personal agenda.” Still, despite the pricks and pokes over time, Del Rey does feel the media is incredibly important and worth fighting for at the moment. “That’s why I do love journalists,” she says, “when they’re not assholes, because writers are critical thinkers. They’re people who think it’s important to have conversation, and conversation can lead to change.”

I’d agree: the fundamental purpose of media is to present the facts and propel conversation. That, of course, has been tossed into the bullshit blender of late; a corrupted election, orchestrated intel leaks, and in turn media’s brandishing “the enemy of the people” by the venal and orange President Trump, has the press in a pretty gobsmacked, beleaguered position. So ass over heels that even the governing party’s own Fox News mascot, Bill O’Reilly, has finally been ousted for sexually pawing and verbally gnawing on women whom his employers have considerably paid off over the years to keep hush. It’s a mess out there, right or left or between. “I feel like this election jolted almost everyone who was floating around, feeling weird, whatever… right into the current moment,” Del Rey says. “I know several people that had a sort of drifter mentality that are now in the thick of it, considering things, and considering their own contributions, and what matters. I’ve known what matters to me for a long time, so I was already kind of there, but I didn’t really see it going this negatively. I feel like we’re in a bit of a Hitchcockian experience, and you’re in a scenario, and every day you wake up and you can’t believe the things being said and done are real. And I think some people are questioning if this shit is actually happening, like especially with the North Korea issues, which are really the scariest because you’re talking about nuclear annihilation.”

The world is in an extraordinarily tenuous place. And while it could be said, certainly for the sake of this piece, the earliest seedlings of civilization were wrought with lust for power, we are, it seems, at somewhat of a tipping point. On the topic of the Women’s March, I share a video of the protests in Caracas, Venezuela, where some two million people were marching that morning against President Nicolás Maduro, dozens of whom were reported killed by police or government backing loyalists. I remark that the collectivist, community-making nature of protest could perhaps only be likened to the power of song. Is there anything on the record that explores this swell of community-making here and around the world at present? She considers. “Well, I have a song that’s quite aware about the collective worry, about whether this is the end of an era. It’s called “When the world was at war we kept dancing.” But I actually went back and forth about keeping it on the record, because I didn’t want it there if it would make people feel worse instead of better. It’s not apathetic. The tone of the production is very dark, and doesn’t lead to a fucking happy feeling. And the question it poses: Is this the end of America, of an era? Are we running out of time with this person at the helm of a ship? Will it crash? In my mind, the lyrics were a reminder not to shut down or shut off, or just don’t talk about things. It was more like stay vigilant and keep dancing. Stay awake.”

Given the pace and intensity of the environment in our surrounds of which the artist speaks, I point out that there are still moments on the record that feel lonely, or lost in expectancy, far from active. I cite a lyric: “We get all dressed up to go nowhere in particular.” Del Rey shares that she’d had a phone call with a friend earlier that day, about their personal lives, their music, and she states that he too raised that when talking about artistic stall as a demonstration of stasis. She disagreed with him. “It wasn’t about stasis. I meant that you don’t need to have anything to do to get dressed up and feel special.”

We live in a culture where pressure and precedent abound, one in which women are constantly challenged with not feeling special based on their body, their skin color, their age, their social position, their follower count. Does she agree? “It’s more like we just don’t have as much cultural practice at taking the time to appreciate ourselves for who we really are,” she says. “We spend a lot of time when the nation was founding building government, money, and then getting the education system down, so it’s not like some cultures where you take time to mediate, et cetera, on your own dreams, wishes, self worth. I think it’s not enough practice. It’s not like they teach you that in school. But I think that that’s changing too. That’s actually a lot of what the record is about. Even in “God Bless America”… ‘Take me as I am, don’t see me for what I’m not… Only you can save me tonight.’ It’s about seeing people: what they’re actually doing. Who they actually are.”

In that sense, Del Rey is championing the same values as her influential predecessors, few and far as they may be, or as bamboozled by the power systems in which they thrived. Consider “Beautiful People,” where she trades verses and coalesces on the chorus with the one and only Stevie Nicks, of whom I refer to as a bonafide badass. “I didn’t know what to except or that I could even ask her, Del Rey remarks. “When I went through ideas of women that could really add something to the record, she was the one we kept coming back to. ‘Bonafide badass’ is a great phrase for her. She’s really real. And she’s still fucking touring, which baffles me. There are so few women doing that. You’ve got Courtney Love, who works, sings, tours… there’s not that many women who were making music in the ’70s or ’80s who still make music. It really is pretty crazy.”

We’ve been speaking for a little over an hour. I return to a conversation we’d briefly shared on the photo shoot regards this, Flaunt’s music issue, and its theme (“heartbreak”), determined before we’d secured Del Rey as our cover subject. She’d been briefed on this by her publicity team and was admittedly wary about aligning. Again, that embodiment dilemma. Appropriation? Role playing? “Everything I’ve done in the last two years,” she says with confidence, “I would never say anything that wasn’t true. Even in the music. That’s why I was nervous about me being on the cover, and in big font “The Heartbreak Issue” because the thing is, I don’t feel heartbroken. So I didn’t want to continue a narrative that didn’t apply to me. Because the only person who truly cares about whether I continue that narrative, or any, is me. So I have to do my due diligence. And it doesn’t always work, but I’ll be damned if I don’t fucking try.”

Del Rey is indeed expected to carry her narratives, whether they’re isolated in meaning to her or not. It comes with the territory I suppose. Perhaps the reason the public has not allowed her persona the room it allots to certain other celebrities to role play is because it conversely feels her not a role player, but an appropriator. Not of cultural identities, or pivotal historic movements, ethnic/religious/nationalistic identities, but of emotions. Did Lana Del Rey, for instance, scoop up the proliferate sentiment of feeling forlorn when she broke out in 2008 while the economy was breaking down? Why if she sings about manipulation are we assumed she’s manipulating or manipulated? Why if she sings about getting dressed up for no reason but to feel special does one imagine her at home, dressed up, going nowhere? Does someone who writes and sings so pointedly and consistently about love defy its fundamentally inarticulable nature? Is this love borrowed or stolen? From us? From whom? How can we tell? Why can some musicians sing about all sorts of shit, and everyone grants them the concession to do so. Why does Lana have to be her music? Some would argue it’s this collision of singer/songwriter—of whom we expect to sing from the experiences of the heart—with that of pop queen, whom we expect to sing about and for us. Others might speculate that Del Rey’s aim is true, that her heart is her guiding light, that this is more than music. And finally, others might suggest that’s the responsibility of art; to cull from emotions everywhere, permission or non, and distill into something accessible. “I know a couple of people who love to write,” she says as we’re collecting ourselves to leave the hotel room, “and love to rhyme, love melodies, and I do too. But to me it’s so much more than that. It feels like a life’s work and it feels like it’s really important just to me, so I put a lot of time into it.”

A lust for life, and whatever you make of it. And what Del Rey is making of it is music; earned and owned up to, as the world continues to take from us and we from it. We walk to the balcony and open the French windows. A web of canopies drape the Chateau’s garden courtyard restaurant, bustling with late lunches and tea service. We remark that beneath these canopies, it can feel so glamorous, so suspended. From up here, though, you see it’s just industrial plastic, mildly in need of a good dirt rinse, the patrons beneath it smudged out like those who didn’t sign the waiver in a reality TV dance, playing a role, all but recognizable.

* Some adjectives describing Del Rey in recent international journalism include: a) “a confounding mystery” – Brian Hiatt. “18 Things You Learn After Two Long Days with Lana Del Rey,” Rolling Stone, June 24, 2014. b) “mysterious and much-debated.” – Sean Hennessy. “Ice Breaker,” GQ, October 6t, 2011. c) “Is this the mysterious Lana Del Rey? –  Natasha Stagg. “Lana Del Rey: Wild at Heart,” Dazed, April 17, 2017. d) “a paradox” – Barry Walters. “Darkness Comes Alive: The Paradox of Lana Del Rey,” NPR, June 20, 2014. e) “married her music to a mysterious image.” – Paul Harris. “The Strange Story of the Star Who Rewrote Her Past,” The Guardian, January 21, 2012. f) “weirdly shamanistic” – Bruce Wagner. “Lana Del Rey on Why Her Pop Stardom ‘Could Easily Not Have Happened’,” Billboard, October 22, 2015.

Written by Matthew Bedard Photographer: David LaChapelle. Stylist: Brett Alan Nelson for The Only Agency. Hair: Anna Cofone for The Wall Group. Makeup: Pamela Cochrane for Bridge Artists. Styling Assistants: Tony Devoney and Richie Garcia.

[painterlegendx]

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[michelemoore]

Takhuk

October 23, 2018

Michele Moore Veldhoen

Raven Feathers, Raki, and Risk

An Anecdotal Travelogue in 3 Parts Part 2 Rocks and Raki

The raven feather I wrote of in last week’s blog did, as the Beefeater proclaimed, bring me luck. For the two weeks we spent on Crete, Greece’s largest island, the sun shone, the air was calm, and not once did a goat or crazy Cretan driver force us over one of the many cliffs along which we drove. Which is entirely possible in the hills and mountains of Crete, I can assure you.

I loved Crete. Punctured with caves and strewn with archaeological sites where Greek Gods such as Zeus and Europa were born and their son King Minos reigned, ancient myth and mystery is present in every stone, street, and building. Crete is considered the birthplace of western civilization itself, so on that score the island stands alone as a place to visit if you are a history buff.  

There is so much to say about Crete. I could write of the fantastic gorges (canyons) we hiked, the thousands of goats that kept us company, the omnipresent olive groves, the pretty pomegranate, lime and lemon trees growing out of cobblestone streets and shading freshly painted wooden doors, the wild and cultivated herbs that scent the air, the pristine beaches and waters of the south coast, and oh, the cheese! I give the Cretans first place on cheese, but I will stop there or this blog will become too cheesy….hehehe Instead, let me tell you about the rocks and the raki.

Rocks

Crete is an island of stone. Rock and rubble. Since I love anything to do with stone, landscapes dominated by rubble and rock appeal to me. But when you picture the island, don’t imagine our Rocky Mountains or the stone slabs of the Canadian Shield. Imagine mountains and hills of crumbling rock. Bare mountains of, bare, crumbling rock. Most of which to me looks really, really, old. As are the castles, forts, and churches, also made of stone. Occupied and abandoned stone villages and structures are all around, and sometimes blend so well into the rocky hill or mountain upon which they stand you can walk past or even over them without always realizing they are there, but still, you will be surrounded by fields of weather beaten, time worn, sun bleached, stones.

(Side note:  Crete was not always such a bare rock pile, and it does still have pockets of natural pine and cyprus forest. A bit of research tells me that for centuries the island has suffered deforestation. Trees were cut for firewood, and swathes of forest were removed by occupying cultures that used the wood for shipbuilding, for example. The island is devoid of significant populations of wild animals and this I think would be due to loss of habitat, and hunting. Herds of domestic goats now dominate the terrain and eat everything in sight, so very hard to re-establish the forests).

Yet this rocky landscape supports the production of an abundant array of delicious food. Much of which is grown by small producers and families who work with hand tools and basic machinery their olive and orange groves, their potato and eggplant fields, and also their grapevines which grow so easily they can be found casually planted along sidewalks where you can help yourself as you go by.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this anecdote about rocks but the picture of the stony Cretan landscape dominates my mind. We stayed in old traditional villages built with rock and in the case of Kritsa, right into the rock of a mountain, slept in homes built of stone, explored these villages walking on stone street by cobblestone street, climbed and wandered through stony canyons, along ancient donkey tracks built of stone, up mountains of rusty rock spread over chunks of brilliant marble, across pebbly beaches and fine ground sand. There was a lot of rock featured in this trip. You could say we rolled through rocks. We rocked and rolled.

Stone speaks to us, if we listen. The next time you’re on a beach, notice how your feet feel in the sand. The next time you put on your makeup, realize the minerals in the makeup come from stone. (Likely the same kind of stone from which Cleopatra got her makeup minerals.) When you are running a cloth over your granite counter top, wonder at which mountain in the world gifted to you that slab of art. Look at the diamonds or other jewels in your wedding ring. Now doesn’t that rock speak to you!

Stone is speaking to us every day because it is the earth itself. Earth gives us an array of gifts in stone that, in the words of Van Morrison, stones me to my soul.

Raki

Raki is Crete’s white lightning. Made from the skins, stems and seeds of wine grapes, every family, village, and taverna seems to have their own supply. Like any other raw distilled liquor it requires fortitude to consume.  

Raki can be flavoured with a variety of herbs such as aniseed, but in Crete they seem to like it straight. It is standard in the tavernas to receive after your meal some complimentary raki as an aperitif. Served  chilled in a small clear glass bottle along with shot glasses and some kind of sweet. The quantity of raki in the bottle is enough for two people to each have at least 5 shots. Rogerio and I left a lot of raki in the bottle.

When you walk around a village on the island, you will frequently see in front of tavernas a scene similar to the photo above –  for decoration small tables are positioned at the entrance to the taverna,  displaying a generous bowl of oranges, and a pretty glass bottle of raki. (The string of beads in this picture are‘worry beads’ which in Greek culture is a secular object used for relaxation. According to Wikipedia, they can also be a status symbol – expensive strings of amber and other valuable stones. (There’s those rocks again.)This might explain the long elaborate string hanging around the neck of a black robed priest I saw in a delegation of VIP’s accompanying the President of Greece to lunch in a taverna in a village we were visiting. The President was there to commemorate a WW II hero and it seemed every man in the village who owned a suit, along with at least half a dozen Greek Orthodox priests were in attendance. The one I studied the most manipulated his beads at the same slow and deliberate pace at which he walked, separating himself, I noted, somewhat from the rest of the entourage.  With his head at a slight upward tilt and his lips tightly drawn, he appeared to investigate the scene around him in a way that made me feel he was either making some private calculations in his mind or was a most arrogant man.)

Now that was a rather long digression but it does relate to raki because the priests also drink the stuff. In one village where we ate dinner at the same taverna every night for almost a week, we observed the local priest every evening gathered with a few locals that always sat at the same out of the way table, drinking raki, smoking, and talking. Such is the pervasiveness of raki.

On another evening in another village in which we stayed for a week, we were walking back from dinner when we were offered raki by a family celebrating a birthday. These old traditional villages are made for social connections. Like a rabbit warren, the homes are all part of one structure, and the doors to each home open right onto the narrow cobblestone passageways through which everyone travels on foot. To sit outdoors, people tuck into chairs set along the walls of the buildings, or gather in a lovely intimate corner or cubbyhole under a giant fig or cyprus tree. Even the most unsociable, solitary soul would have a hard time not saying ‘yassas’ when passing by, and once you greet someone, they always greet you back and if a party is going on, offer you raki and invite you to join them.

So where am I going with this anecdote?

Well, we’ve all heard of the Mediterranean diet. Lots of vegetables, fruits, legumes, whole grains, nuts and seeds and olive oil, and moderate quantities of meat and dairy. For years we have been reading about the health benefits of this kind of diet, which is definitely enjoyed by the people of Crete. But nothing is ever said about the raki!

I have a theory about this. I believe the ever present raki is not there to be consumed in great quantities on a regular basis, (although this certainly happens according to one village woman who, after a long day of work in a bakery, was minding the family store because her husband was at the taverna drinking raki instead of doing his job. Again.) I think the raki is there to make regularly available the opportunity for social connection. Alcohol is a social lubricant. Raki is very strong alcohol, it doesn’t take much to feel warm and cozy sitting on a stone bench next to people you’ve just met.

Many people we met in Crete that are eating the traditional Mediterranean diet not only eat well, but live well, by which I mean, they are socially connected. The physical layout of these villages are designed for close connection. They are also designed for walking. Cretan villagers walk everywhere, and exercise is the third pillar of the triangle of good living – diet, exercise, and social connections.

I know this is very idyllic and as my son-in-law recently pointed out, these same countries that support this lifestyle are also struggling with severe economic problems. However, that observation can say as much about their leadership, and the western economic model their leaders have tried to participate in, as it can about the country’s economics.

In any case, I don’t think I could give up a cold craft brew for a cold shot of raki. But I’m grateful to those Canadians with a Mediterranean heritage who introduced us to olive oil, and eggplant baked with tomatoes, zucchini and potatoes topped with soft creamy cheese, and Greek yogourt topped with honey, and greens sautéed with garlic, and…..oh, that’s right, I said this blog was not going to be about food.

[bigmouthbadsleeper]

Mascara Tears.

The year is 1996 and I am twelve years old. I have just started junior high, and my mother has just allowed me to go to the movies alone. “Alone” meaning my friend, one year my senior, and me got dropped off by my mom and her sky blue Oldsmobile and picked up by her mom and her sage green mini van. The movie we saw was Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet. It was kind of a big deal because it was the first movie I saw in a theater on my own, with no grown-ups present. I had no idea what Romeo + Juliet was really about. I knew it was about romance. I knew that Romeo and Juliet were “star cross’d”, but I had no idea what that phrase meant. I was, after all, twelve years old. All I really knew about the film was that the advertising campaign had dominated my YM and TEEN magazines the entire summer prior to its release. It was a genius marketing campaign, for the record. They had stuck postcards in every issue of every teen-oriented magazine on the stands. If you collected them all they pieced together, like a puzzle, to spell words and connect scenes from the movie. I think this goes without saying, but I had all of them.

At the time, the most confusing thing to me about this film was not the ending, although it haunted and upset me for weeks, if not months after. I was confused from the second the movie started, and those of you who’ve seen it know what I’m talking about. It was set in present day, but the language was old-timey. They called their guns “swords”? Romeo took drugs??? I have to add all the question marks here. The first ten minutes alone are enough to make a person feel insane. But then the fight between the two families breaks, and the music softens, and we see Romeo. We see Romeo aka a baby faced Leonardo DiCaprio, and we hear Radiohead, and everything feels warm and good. Everything makes sense.

(honestly cigarettes are gross except in this movie. I don't make the rules.)

I remember sitting there in the dark theater after the movie ended, listening to “Exit Music For A Film”, one of my favorite Radiohead songs, which was written specifically for the end credits of this film. I remember being confused and angry. I remember my friend crying, and complaining about her mascara running. I remember being jealous because I didn’t wear mascara regularly. I only wore it when my mother received a free sample in her Lancôme gift with purchase. Looking back on it, some of my anger probably came from the fact that I was robbed of the dramatics of those black streams running down my face. I wanted not only to feel sad, but to look sad too. Feeling sad without really looking sad just felt like lying.

(all the cool girls had this mascara in their backpacks. I died of happiness every time my mom would give me one.)

 I came home to find my mother in her room.

“Have you seen that movie before? I mean have you read that play??”, I demanded.

“Yes.” She replied while folding laundry. She was more interested about sock matches, I could tell.

“Well do you know that they DIE at the end??” I said, too loudly, for shock factor. I wanted her to know how seriously I took this.

“Yes. It’s Shakespeare.” She picked up a sock, matched it with its sister and tossed it in the pile.

My eyes widened. I almost couldn’t believe she was so cavalier about it all.

“Well what was all that then? I thought this story was like about true love and stuff!”

“Well it’s a love story, but not all love stories are happy stories.”

 Preach, mom. Preach.

I always had a liking for sadder movies over happy movies. My favorite movie as a kid was Beaches, followed by Untamed Heart, both devastatingly sad, and my favorites only got sadder as I got older. But before Romeo + Juliet, I don’t know that I saw the beauty in sadness. I think about that movie experience often, especially when I'm feeling sad. It evoked a lot of strong emotions in me that i had never felt at the same time before. The perfect mixture of sadness and anger, sprinkled with beauty throughout, a deadly cocktail of emotions. The ironic thing, maybe, is that the only kind of love stories I wanted to watch after that one were tragic love stories. Some of my favorite movies today are tragic love stories, and I watch them over and over again. Though the stories are often different, at the core, the emotional cocktail is the same. The only difference now is that I wear mascara when I watch them. You know, for proof.

Why am I telling you about the experience I had watching this movie that you have probably never heard of? What's the point of sharing my sadness and anger over some film that doesn't really affect my life at all? It's because being a teenager is hard. When I was one, I thought it was the hardest thing ever. False. Being an adult is hard too sometimes. Turns out life is just hard no matter what! What fresh nonsense is this? It turns out that despite being difficult and sad at times, life is also really beautiful. One way to contribute to that beauty is to create art from the pain you're feeling. Think about it: if everyone always felt included, if no one was different, if the world were a perfect place, how much art would we have? How many songs or books would never be written? How many of our favorite paintings or movies wouldn't exist? All forms of art have always been a huge part of my recovery from depression and anxiety. I often found solace in film and television, music and books, and in turn I created art of my own. I wrote in journals every day from the ages of 13 to 25 (when I got older I blogged on a computer rather than wrote in a journal) which resulted in me being a good writer and speaker. That trip to the movies back in 1996 inspired me to write this piece for you, and hopefully help you feel a little better about yourself, and maybe learn something too.

When I was 13 I took a strong liking to makeup and hair color. I would babysit most weekends to make money, and then turn around and buy makeup and music with it (I have never been a good saver). I would come home from babysitting and sit in front of the mirror in my bedroom and consider my face; what was pleasant about it (my eye color), what needed work (my brows, always my brows). I started to rip pages out of my mom's fashion magazines that contained makeup looks that I loved, and on these weekend nights I would put music on and try to recreate these looks on myself. My music choices ranged everywhere from Janice Kapp Perry's “The Light Within” to Alanis Morissette's “Jagged Little Pill”. My likes have always been a bit of a contradiction to themselves. All this practice on my own face led to me being good at doing makeup on others which led me to being a successful makeup artist for the last fifteen years. I have been blessed with the ability to see the beauty in others, and in turn helping them see it in themselves. Makeup is such a fun way to be able to do that for people. I'm so happy to make someone feel good about themselves, in some small way. Makeup is a fun way to express myself and to make myself look better sometimes, but I know that real beauty is on the inside, and no amount of makeup can cover up an ugly soul or a mean spirit. The Lord looks at our insides to judge us, not our outsides. He doesn't care what you weigh, or if you know how to highlight and contour. He doesn't even care if your brows are uneven! How's that for unconditional love?

When you turn your pain into art, you can inspire others, and that is a beautiful thing. Art in some form has always inspired me to see the light in dark times. I am so grateful that suffering isn't always in vain. If we can find something beautiful in our journey, we should share it with others. Paint. Sing. Write. Act. Take a ceramics class at school! All of those things have helped me at one point in my life, with the exception of ceramics, because I actually FAILED that class my senior year and had to take a correspondence self-help class in order to graduate. Well guess what Mr. B?? That self help class was actually really great and way more helpful than your ceramics class ever was! I may not know how to throw a pot but I do know that if you want to have enough time for everything, you must put your big rocks in the mason jar before you put your pebbles in. If you are confused, see: Steven R. Covey's “Seven Habits for Highly Effective Teens” for more on the rocks in the mason jar object lesson. It's a classic.

This concludes somewhat messy, very heartfelt guide on how to survive your teen years. I actually could write for months on this subject, and I have over the years on my old blogs. Its kind of difficult to fit all of my thoughts into shorter, cohesive pieces of writing, so I apologize if I didn't do a great job. I have to confess I was nervous to contribute to this website because I know how many young people it reaches. I actually had a harder time writing these pieces than I have writing anything else, and I have written for blogs before. It was hard for me to pin down what I wanted you young girls to know most. And because I have a big mouth, and I never know when to stop talking, I will leave you with a few (more) pieces of advice before I go. I think the thing thing I wish so badly that I had worked harder on long ago when I was just a young girl, back before I heard anyone say I was gross, is loving myself, and being grateful for the body I have. I think it still would have been hard to hear those words because words like that are never easy to hear, but if I had known how beautiful I was, and that my body was something to be celebrated, I wouldn't have spent so much time telling myself that boy was right. I still struggle with body image. Sometimes I think about what it was like before I came to earth, and how what I wanted more than anything was a body. Now that I have one, I am mean to it, and I say that I hate it too often when I should be celebrating all the amazing wonderful things it can do. I can run and hike and tell jokes. I can see beautiful things and hear amazing music. I can touch furry cats and hold hands with people I love. My legs carry me around Disneyland. So much to be thankful for, yet I waste time tearing myself apart and listing all the ways that I fall short. It's such a shame.

Figure out what makes you unique and celebrate those things, don't hide them. Tell yourself you are beautiful every day because you are. Makeup and clothes and hairstyles are fun to experiment with but they aren't what leads to true happiness or beauty. Beauty on the outside cannot compensate for ugliness on the inside. If you ever find yourself in a position with anyone where you are campaigning for them to like or love you, get out immediately. Real love and friendship does not have to be bargained for. Protect your words and your kisses; don't give either away too easily. The boy who loves you most is the one who believes that your insides are beautiful, who looks at you the same whether you are fat, skinny, happy, or sad. True love isn't based on superficial things. Money can't buy happiness but it can solve a lot of problems, so set aside some money now so that one day you can help build a life for yourself. Know that your worth is not based on how many boys like you, or when you get your first boyfriend, but on how the savior sees you. He sees you for all that you are and all that you can be. He truly knows what you are capable of. You have a father in heaven who loves you and has a plan for you. Look to Him in times of trial or confusion and he will guide you in the best direction.

There's a hill about twenty minutes from my house that I used to drive up every weekend. I would put on some of my favorite songs and sing (and cry) along to the lyrics. I would park my car at the top of this hill and look out at the thousands of twinkling lights and try to pick out anything familiar from my drive. Sometimes I would recognize a building or spot an intersection, but mostly all the lights just twinkled together like glitter in the sun. Every time I looked at those lights it baffled me that an entire city existed within them. Houses, shopping centers, gas stations, happy people, sad people, lonely people... they all exist there in that sea of lights. Yet I can't see them. Stop lights and buildings that moments ago towered over me in my car are now invisible. I can't tell one from the next. Our lives are like cities; busy and lonely, full of hard stuff and happy stuff, and ultimately one big beautiful glitter bomb. How lucky are we to know that there is someone on the hill who can see every hard and beautiful thing? It's someone who loves us and wants nothing more than for us to make it back to Him one day. As you follow guidance from your Heavenly Father, believe in yourself. Know your worth. Trust in your talents and abilities. Speak kindly of yourself and others. Be a friend. And don't over-tweeze your eyebrows. Trust me on that one. You'll thank me one day.