#the audio: chat suffocate this woman

[transpanda-1]

🀄️What the FUCK is going on with the audio in the podcast?? Is it like, picking up even the slightest movement we make?? What the hell can we do to stop that from happening, this dragon is tired of trying to chop off “sudden crinkling asmr audio”

[rommahh]

{Harry in sparkly black….Harry lemme **** *** *** for free}

You hadn’t talked to Harry all day. Not that you were mad at him or anything but your therapy this morning left you feeling a little spacey. There was something about talking about your emotions that left you feeling emotionally drained.

You missed Harry terribly and though it’s only been a short week, you felt very lonely. But on another note, your anxiety wasn’t as bad as it was. You were starting to feel like your normal self again but missing something.

You loved the tight knit life you have with Harry. You like being around him most hours of the day. You two were inseparable. If you were in the shower, he was in the bathroom reading a book from the lounger chair in the corner. If he was writing music on the beach, you were somewhere on the shore collecting shells. If you were going to the grocery store the least he could do was go for the drive with you. You two were close and it was something the both of you were ok with.

Some couples don’t like being so close but it worked for you and Harry. Being away from Harry was a weird experience. It’s only been a week but you feel like it’s been a lifetime. You haven’t minded being on your own but you wanted to be with the person you felt most connected to.

So being you, you purchased a ticket to Chicago. You didn’t know how Harry was going to react but you could only assume it would be a positive reaction. You told Jeff that you were coming so he could get you a hotel key and backstage pass.

As you sat in the airport you felt your back pocket buzz- your music pausing for the call. Your hand slipped into the pocket roughly pulling out the small phone. Harry’s icon, him in a fluffy robe looking as grumpy as ever, met your eyes. You cursed because you were quite obviously in the airport and if he saw you, the surprise would be ruined.

You answered anyways but only for audio. You made sure that your airpods were snug in you ear and there was no chance of them falling out.

“My lover!” Harry greets you a in sing song voice. You could hear his humph as he recognizes that you didn’t answer with the FaceTime video on. “Turn your camera on.”

“Can’t, I’m not feeling good.” You fib nervously. Harry frowned, nervous that he may have done something to upset you.

“Oh, alright. What’s wrong then?” He asks. You chew your lip trying to think of an answer.

“Uh, period.” You stammer.

“Your period doesn’t start for another few day…saw it on the tracker.” Harry may have your period tracker on his phone but it was because he wanted to make sure he was able to comfort you the best way he could when he needed to.

“Must be the meds-“ The sound of your boarding attendant sounded over your head cutting you off. “Hey bubs, I’ve actually got to go but we can’t chat later.”

“Sure, that’s fine I guess. Love you.” He mumbles, confused by the phone call. You hang up leaving Harry a little lost in his thoughts.

Later, Harry sang through his rehearsal carelessly, his head clouded with thoughts. He even sang through TBSL and though he was in the worst of moods, fans waiting at the venue thought he never sounded better.

You on the other hand had just sat through the worst flight of your life. There was a woman in the flight who didn’t want to wear her mask causing commotion before the flight could even take off. You had the worst headache halfway through the flight and because of the lack on supplies, the flight couldn’t give you any ginger ale or accommodations.

You didn’t let any of it get to you though as you directed for the chauffeur Jeff sent for you to go to the venue for show.

Harry sat in the common room backstage with the band and Jeff eating dinner grumpily. His fork was stabbing every little piece of lettuce of his salad, everyone watched worried that he may break his bowl.

“HS3 is trending on Twitter today, pretty exciting.” Jeff says to Harry breaking the silence. Jeff just received a text from you saying that you arrived to the venue and were walking towards Harry’s dressing room.

“Mmm great.” Harry grumbles. Jeff rolled his eyes at the diva.

“Someone’s a little pissy this evening. How about you go fix that mood before you greet your fans with a bad attitude.” Jeff scolds him like a child who just got caught doing something they shouldn’t have. Jeff really didn’t care about Harry’s attitude, used to the moods at this point, but he needed a way for Harry to leave the room and see you in the dressing room.

“Fine, didn’t want to be around anyways.” Harry shrugs.

Back in Harry’s dressing room, you rolled your suitcase into a corner where Harry’s outfit for the night resided on a hanger. You smiled at the sparkly black top that you helped pick out. You walked around his dressing room from the hair and makeup table, past the bathroom/ dressing area, and back around to the couch’s and coffee table where you took a seat. You snagged one of his green juices needing the boost of energy from being on the flight.

You heard the door knob jiggle but stayed planted in you seat sipping on the juice. You never made a peep as Harry barged through the room, scowl covering his face. He stormed past the couch not batting an eye at you. He went to the mini fridge where his juices were before letting an exasperated sigh.

“Who fucking took my juice?” He whines. You quietly giggle in your hand at his tone.

“Im sorry, thought I could have it.” You chuckle. Harry leaps from where he stands letting out a yell. He turns to look at you with wide eyes, hand over his chest as if his heart was going to explode from his chest. You stood from the couch waiting for him to react more but he just stood there in shock. When the realization of you actually being there kicked in he let out another yell before bounding over to you.

Before you knew it, you had two strong arms wrapped tightly around you. Your wrapped around his neck, hands and fingers spread through his hair. His face tucked into your lower neck peppering desperate kisses all over just to feel something.

“What are you doing here?” You hear him cry. You pulled away from him to wipe his eyes of the tears that streamed down his face.

“I needed to see you.” Was all you could muster. He pulled you down on the couch, your body cushioning his larger frame. He laid in between your legs, your back flat in the body of the couch.

“Im so happy your here.” Harry couldn’t even put his excitement into words. He knew you were coming in a week but to have you here earlier than that made him feel things. He sat up from suffocating you into the couch, allowing for you to sit up beside him. “What about your therapy? I hope you’re not jeopardizing your mental health to be here with me cause I would much prefer if you put me on the back burner and took care of yourself.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I’m ok. I still will see my therapist virtually, I’ve got all new meds that are working fine, and if all goes to shit I will go back home. It’s ok bubs.” You reassure him.

He grabs your face with both hands pulling your face to his. Your lips meet with need. His lips slotting with yours, moving slowly but with rigor as if he was scared you would slip from his fingers. Your bottom lips fit between his lips leaving for him to suck on it slightly. You moaned at the feeling making Harry pull you in tighter. You sat slightly upon his lap, chest against each other tightly. Your tongues pushed at one another, lips loving in tangent.

You pulled away when you felt his lower presence awaken. He whined at the loss of contact making you giggle.

“If we go any further you’re gonna be late for your show. I’ll give you more back at the hotel, yeah?” You say lowly trying to catch your breathe. He groaned resting his forehead on yours chasing your lips with chaste kisses making you smile.

“Fine, you owe my though. This is level three apology situation that can only be resolved with these things; sloppy blowies, butt stuff, or face masks if you catch my drift.” He chastised. You let out a deep belly laugh pushing yourself away from him. You two still sit facing each other, your legs slightly on top of his.

“You’re so nasty, but I may be able to arrange one of those.” You wink making Harry let out a triumphant laugh.

“Are you staying for the show? I understand if your not.” He questions fiddling with your fingers.

“Think it would be best if I didn’t. I’m really tired and I obviously need a nap if I’m going to be up for your post show antics.” You joke giving his nose a poke. He jokingly pretends to bite your finger in retaliation.

Harry went on stage that night happier than ever. He started plotting proposals from the second he walked you to the car with your suitcase and waved goodbye to you. You went to the hotel room and “accidentally” fell asleep wearing one of your most recent purchases curled up in your tour bus blanket.

Let’s just say that Harry not so accidentally woke you up after that concert ready to love all of his adrenaline off in you.

Part 2👀

[perfectirishgifts]

Netflix Rolls Out Playback Speed Control—So Who’s The Real Director During Our Ambient TV Era?

New Post has been published on https://perfectirishgifts.com/netflix-rolls-out-playback-speed-control-so-whos-the-real-director-during-our-ambient-tv-era/

Netflix Rolls Out Playback Speed Control—So Who’s The Real Director During Our Ambient TV Era?

The company is letting viewers go warp speed

This past summer it was reported Netflix NFLX was experimenting with the ability to control the playback of any show or film— from 0.5x slower to 1.5x faster.

While the feature was primarily tested on Android mobile devices, the feature is now being spotted on desktops across the country.

The creative community has been pushing back since the rumors. Judd Apatow, an outspoken critic, replied to the early headlines, ”Distributors don’t get to change the way the content is presented. Doing so is a breaking of trust and won’t be tolerated by the people who provide it.” He added, “Don’t make me have to call every director and show creator on Earth to fight you on this. Save me the time.”

Aaron Paul also joined early, “There is NO WAY Netflix will move forward with this. That would mean they are completely taking control of everyone else’s art and destroying it. Netflix is far better than that. Am I right Netflix?…I love Netflix. Always have. Always will. This simply can not be true.”

It is.

Paul’s tweet is now unavailable and close to 195,000,000 Netflix subscribers will soon be getting a taste of this control.

In a previous statement from Netflix, Keela Robison, VP of Product Innovation, justified the test, “It’s a feature that has long been available on DVD players – and has been frequently requested by our members. For example, people looking to rewatch their favorite scene or wanting to go slower because it’s a foreign language title.”

The context of controlling speed on a DVD player is different than our present moment. Culture changes. We’re in a market landscape where Netflix infamously “competes with sleep” in addition to now HBO, Hulu, Apple and Disney. This is about being able to better understand a foreign film as much as it’s about crunching more consumption numbers for shareholders. “Are you still there?”

How do you increase viewership metrics quarter-over-quarter, year-over-year? Approaching the equation by attempting to increase subscribers is myopic. Saturation is tough. You also can’t increase the time frame for people to watch Netflix, there are only so many hours in the day. But what you can do, and what Netflix has done, is shrink the content to fit more of it within subscribers’ existing time frames. Same timespan each night, but more content watched… all without growing subscription numbers. Brilliant… for the stock.

Netflix is signaling: Consumption volume is prioritized over artistic intent. What’s disturbing yet unsurprising is that we’ve mistaken the figure for the ground. Where metrics were once leveraged to understand the resonance of a piece of work, we’re now solely optimizing for the metrics themselves, forgetting why we’re here. We’re undermining the material for stats. Have we really experienced the work, or have we merely seen it?

For Team Human, author and media theorist Douglas Rushkoff shares, “Any art that asks its viewers to slow down or, worse, pause and reflect is hurting a market that depends on automatic and accelerating behaviors.” Netflix doesn’t want to play in the slow and ambiguous space. However for the creatives, it’s the deal with the devil.

This figure-ground reversal is what Apatow and Paul are concerned about. The distributor, Netflix, now controls the priority: numbers over art. This means Netflix also controls the watch experience—or at least empowers viewers to control their own watch experience, different than that of what was intended. Fairly, who are we to make such directorial decisions over Apatow, the creator? If he wanted a shorter film, his editors would have done so. And as any fan knows, that’s not what Apatow wants.

The trigger for all is that we’re beginning to widely remix an established and sacred medium: film. The chaotic spirit of TikTok is getting mapped onto the nearly 100-year-old Motion Picture Association. Or better yet, YouTube’s existing playback controls can now be applied to a Best Picture.

This is 2020—power dynamics are changing. The crowd now determines if Sonic the Hedgehog gets re-animated, or which actors get canceled. Further, with the pandemic, films like Wonder Woman 1984 are bypassing bottleneck theaters and hitting laptops first. In this relationship, it means Sam gets to decide how they want to view the blockbuster: on their iPhone or at 1.5x the speed. After all, they are the one paying. No one needs to flash their B.A. in Cinematic Arts from USC to sign up for Netflix.

Defenders of the feature flaunt the benefits for the deaf and blind community, in addition to many others requiring such accessibility options. Longer time to read subtitles, or quickened audio for those who can’t see well, allows freedom. It’s applaudable and overdue. But can this truly be the fundamental motivator? Netflix wouldn’t have first tested on Android, but first fostered a PR-worthy partnership with the American Council of the Blind. Or at least that’s how they should have framed it.

This feature also signals what television’s role is in the zeitgeist. Markets once proclaimed the arrival of “Second Screen Viewing”, where phone screens accompanied the big screen and acted as the outlet for Tweet reactions and live group chats. However, there’s been another reversal. The TV is now the second screen. The real attention is on the phone: TikTok, Snapchat, Instagram, and YouTube is the foreground. Netflix’s Emily In Paris, dubbed Ambient TV, runs in the background. Many approach their Netflix shows as they would a digital Yule Log, a calming stream of colors and sounds to fill the void.

“At its core, Ambient TV is about modulating our split attention,” says Sean Monahan, founder of the new trend consultancy 8Ball formerly of K-HOLE. “Speeding up certain content for focused turbo-ingestion or lowering the complexity of plot so it can be more ambient background noise are two sides of the same coin. Split attention isn’t only a workplace problem. We also multitask while we consume entertainment.”

Our debate shouldn’t be about the speed and length of an Apatow film, but what Ambient TV and a speed feature symbolizes: our content glut, and how we can’t seem to escape it. Every nook and cranny is filled with content. We multiply our screens to get through.

Entertainment—or even better, art—is now framed as a task to complete hastily, defeating its primary purpose: timeless escape. Our watchlists have become Sisyphean. There is no progress. Yet there’s still a mirage of completion. Our new 1.5x speed can get us there. Or so we hope.

What we need is a movement, a figure or organization, to declare: we don’t need to watch, read or listen to it all. This is that early and modest rallying call.

We are suffocating in content, all competing for our attention—family, friends and co-workers meanwhile attempt to prioritize the list on our behalf, only making it worse. Completed content has become our all-access social pass. Your opportunities for conversation accumulate as hours slept shrink.

But are we watching because we want to or because we feel compelled to?

If we’re watching at 1.5x speed, missing nuance and timing all while disrespecting the creator, perhaps we truly don’t want to. And that’s okay.

From Media in Perfectirishgifts

[thepiledrivenword-blog]

“Targeted Mad” (A Short Story written for Reedsy Prompts)

The following is a short story I’ve written for the weekly Reedsy Prompts contest! The prompt chosen for this story was “Write a story that either starts or ends with someone asking, “can you keep a secret?”“

It can also be read on Reedsy at the following link: https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/contests/55/submissions/30265/

Targeted Mad

by Phillip Moore

“Can you keep a secret?”

That was the question that started it all. I quickly clicked out of the dialogue box that had posed it upon my screen, but it was persistent. Another appeared, prompting me to answer the same question. There was only one option to click on; ‘yes’. I assumed it was the beginnings of a scam or some type of malicious software bait. Again, I clicked the close button on the window. My screen flickered and it returned to taunt me a third time. I squinted at it, mildly frustrated.

“What the hell?” I asked aloud.

I dragged my mouse over to the menu to restart my computer, hoping this would solve the problem. However, the screen had other plans. It flickered once more, and the arrow returned to the center of the monitor. A distorted chuckle echoed out from my speakers. I raised my eyebrows- this was weird. I bit my lip and slammed my finger onto my tower’s power button, holding it down as if I were forcing the source of my annoyance beneath water to suffocate it. Just when I thought my attempt to drown it was about to be successful, there was a flash. A spark shot out from the power button, shocking my finger. I quickly retracted my hand, sucking on the tip of my index as my speakers proceeded to cackle once more.

“CAN YOU KEEP A SECRET?” The dialogue box was in caps this time.

I started to sweat. What was going on? I pushed myself up from my seat. I had to get away for a minute and think about how to approach this peculiarity. I turned and walked towards my bedroom door, placing my hand on the knob.

“I wouldn’t leave if I were you.” A warped voice came from the speakers.

“Who’s there!?” I jumped around.

The monitor flickered and the dialogue box flashed brightly. It multiplied, layering clones of itself across the screen like the crude pasting of concert posters upon the wall of a city building. I pivoted and gripped the doorknob again, turning it slightly.

“Open that door and your internet history will be uploaded across all of your social media accounts.” The voice spoke again.

I was going to ignore it. I continued to twist the knob around, but then I froze. What if… whatever this thing was was serious? I released the handle.

“That’s what I thought. You wouldn’t want Grandma Sharon to know what kind of pornography you watch would you? Cousin Gail? Aunt Cynthia? Mom? Dad? Pastor Tom? You have your boss friended too, don’t you? Bold move.” It snickered.

“Wha- I- It’s not even that weird!” I tried to defend myself, though I knew it didn’t matter. It would be embarrassing either way if such a devastating invasion of my privacy came to pass.

“Oh? Let’s see here… Nun costumes- Pastor Tom will love that, I’m sure. Candlewax… Shibari… Feet? You think they won’t find your foot fetish weird? Oh, interesting. You’ve been on some webcam sites too. Participating in the chats even. Giving tips, making requests. Let’s read some of the things you’ve sai—”

“Okay fine!” I said in a defeated tone. I sighed. “What do you want?”

“Sit back down and answer the question.”

Begrudgingly, I sat back down in my chair.

“Who are you?” I asked.

The voice did not respond. Instead, the many dialogue boxes blinked their requests once again. I peered through the corners of my eyes to the power strip beneath my desk. Raising my foot over it, I prepared to push down and flip the switch, cutting the power to my entire setup. However, as my foot started to descend, the screen flashed and I froze. Several windows spawned and I watched as the username and passwords to my many social media platforms were all being filled out, logging me in. I retracted my foot and rested it back down on the floor in front of me. The voice laughed through my speakers.

My social media profiles disappeared and were replaced again by the collage of dialogue boxes- this time each one was adorned with an emoji that appeared to be laughing so hard that tears ran in streams down its face.

I jumped at the sudden feeling of a buzzing in my pocket. Of course! My phone! I could just call the police and report that someone was harassing me! I pulled it out and, ignoring the notification, opened my phone app. I dialed the emergency number and hovered my thumb over the ‘call’ button. I nervously looked up to the screen. It didn’t appear to have changed.

Suddenly, my hand felt hot. Very hot. My phone screen started to distort as the device overheated. I tossed the phone away from myself and clutched at my seared hand. The voice chuckled again, and the lights in my room flickered- I momentarily chastised myself for getting those wifi bulbs as I jumped back up from my chair.

“This isn’t funny!” I shouted. Panic began to set in as I cradled my burned hand. “What do you want from me!?”

“CAN YOU KEEP A SECRET?” The dialogue boxes strobed and all the emojis were replaced with red angry faces.

I don’t know what the hell I was dealing with, but it clearly wanted me to play along. I lowered back into the chair slowly. I began to sob. I felt trapped. I couldn’t leave, I couldn’t call for help, I couldn’t even power the machine down. What other choice did I have? I winced and the voice cackled as I slowly and shakily hovered the pointer over the ‘yes’ button.

I wanted to turn away, but I couldn’t. I had to see what this was all about. I bit my lip and pressed my finger down, finally giving in and clicking the only option I was given. The dialogue boxes all suddenly disappeared. A video began playing. A kind-looking middle-aged man walked alongside a stream with his hands in his pockets. A nostalgic, yet uplifting tune played along in the background.

“I’ve got a problem.” A male voice came over my speakers- an audio narration laid over the video.

I raised an eyebrow. The man was now sitting down with a woman of similar age. A fancy looking meal was laid out before them. They clinked wine glasses that glimmered softly in dim candlelight.

“But you wouldn’t know it.” The man’s voice continued. He was now walking in a park playing fetch with a dog. “Can you keep a secret?”

The man turned towards the screen and grinned. I cringed slightly, unsure of what was about to happen. The scene changed again and the man was now attempting to pump water from a spout in the ground- with little success.

“I suffer from erectile dysfunction.” He said.

“Wait, what?” I blinked wildly and shook my head in disbelief as the woman walked back on screen. She gripped the handle, laying her hands over the man’s and they proceeded to vigorously work the pump together. The spout finally burst, generously spraying water across the entire scene and all over the woman. Her already form-fitting dress clung closer to her skin as she was soaked through. They tossed their heads back in laughter.

“Thanks to Hardenuf, I feel like a new man. Just one pill twenty minutes before intercourse and I can satisfy her needs- AND mine!”

The screen changed and a Hardenuf pill bottle appeared, peering out from behind the fine print listing potential side effects and warnings that scrolled across the screen.

“Hardenuf- because life should only be hard, when you want it to be!”

The video faded out and disappeared completely. My screen returned to normal and I sat silent for a moment. Trying to process what had just happened.

“All this to make me watch an ad? … ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?”

I never heard the voice again.