#the things you sacrifice for being able to hold the art and tape it to your ceiling fan

[taliaxlatiart]

Broke out the prismacolors for the first time in 5 years for this. Prodigal III fit sweep

[ihassheepquake]

Stargirl 1.10 “Brainwave Jr.” is out now on DCU and I’m here to talk about it.

If you’ll remember from last week, we ended on the cliffhanger of Barbara walking in on Pat, Courtney, & the Staff, and now she’s going to have to learn the whole thing. From Promo it looks like a lot of drama is surrounding that, which is awesome. We can also see Courtney & Henry together in the thumbnail for today, which is probably going to be them having a bit of a spat with the rest of the JSA. I personally love drama episodes, and we know a lot more is happening than just drama, so I’m really excited to see what they have in store for us tonight.

The opening crawl is set to Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, which makes this the second time the song has shown up in the DCU shows (now here, and Hank & Dawn sang it back in Titans season 2). I wonder if someone in charge has a thing for the song or what. But following that up, we get to see Pat & Barbara meet! How cute!! We got the story back in episode 1 but now we get to actually see it. They both get a banana split but there’s only banana so they share it, that’s so fucking cute. The one het coupe I support. And then move into them telling Barbara and Courtney is out here like “oh that’s a broom” like seriously? Really Court? I love how Barbara is taking no shit during this conversation. Barbara “get outta here with that Starman is your dad bullshit” Whitmore, iconic. OH SHIT AND BARBARA FUCKING KICKS PAT OUT OMG! I am living for this omfg.

And now we cut to the King’s and it seems Henry Sr has lost 10ish years of his memory, wild. I’m interested to see what this will do to Henry Sr in the future, and if his forgetting all the current ISA shit will have anything to do with Henry Jr’s character. Also, is it just me, or does it sound like Icicle killed his wife. How many loved ones of allies has Jordan killed? About two scenes later, Henry Sr mentions Jordan by name in his dreams, which really feels like conformation that Jordan did it to me. Then Jordan fucking shows up at the hospital like a bitch! What the hell man, just go die already. And now we see that there’s well over 3,300 of those VHS tapes Henry Sr was making, how obnoxious was that to move? “Merri the girl of 1,000 gimmicks,” was Henry’s mom a superhero??? MERRI’S BROTHER WAS STARMAN!?!? EXCUSE ME?!?!?!?! Hold on, I need a minute. Well, I’d say this is Henry’s motivation to try and work with the JSA.

This little scene with Pat & Mike is really sad. Mike is such a good kid, I love him. 

The Staff comes to see Courtney in her room, how cute. And then fucking dips off to the Garage by itself, and is clearly holding a grudge against Jordan, that’s awesome. The Staff is such a fun character. And then it comes to the hospital to fight Jordan & Henry Sr by itself! ICONIC!! Oop, now it’s frozen. Fuck. Anyway, the more Jordan talks, the more he sounds like a crazy Colonizer. And is Henry Jr only cowering from Jordan, or is he also cowering from his dad? 

The drama with the Whitmore family continues, Barb wants to move them both out of Blue Valley. And here comes Henry to fill in Courtney on the drama, and showcasing a new ability in the process. And thus kick-starting Henry’s involvement in the JSA and the team’s first real mission, only 10 episodes in! 

OMFG shit must be serious, Barbara emailed Sam (who comic fans know is a real piece of shit). And then later, when Jordan and his parents show up, and Barbara records what they say in Norwegian? Amazing. It seems she’s at least going to give Pat & Court the benefit of the doubt after seemingly doing some research on Starman. And further on, Sam has actually emailed her back! Are we gonna meet Sam Kurtis??

I don’t wanna talk to much about this lunch scene because there’s a lot of opinions. Yo & Rick are totally valid in their thoughts and feelings, but also, like, there’s bigger shit to worry about kids.

But which tunnel entrance do we think the kids used? At the school? Do they just keep their uniforms in their lockers?? And it’s Grundy! Soloman Grundy!! OMFG!!! Rick, sweetie, maybe don’t go yelling at the fucking zombie in the secret tunnels under the town? Dragon King is here doing some real weird looking shit to Brainwave. And the Starsquad + Henry Jr is gonna fight all these creepy zombie slaves of DK’s, and once again proving how Court & Yolanda are the most prepared for a fight, they’re th eonly ones we know have some kind of martial arts training. RICK WHY ARE LETTING OUT SOLOMAN GRUNDY?!?! Fucking idiot boy. But man do I love watching Courtney & Yolanda kick ass. Especially followed by the older villains once again proving how big a deal experience is. Oh fuck DK’s face is disgusting. It’s real gross. I do appreciate Henry Jr fighting back against Henry Sr. He, at least, is not cool with the whole supervillain killer thing, which is good. I am once again talking about how cool the CG is for Court’s staff. And Henry Jr is straight up going to sacrifice himself for the Starsquad??? Maybe we don’t hate him. If they can handle his redemption properly, I may be able to support it in the future. As long as this isn’t all of the redemption arc. 

WAIT HENRY SR KILLED HIS WIFE?!?! EXCUSE ME?!?!?! And now he’s threatening to kill his own son, real supervillain material. I’m glad Henry Jr is making the right choice though. And to see all of the Starsquad fighting so hard to help him, and Henry really apologizing for what he did to Yolanda. I’m glad it wasn’t a last minute “i love you” because that would be so unearned.

HI DCU STOP KILLING FUCKING KIDS!! I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO SAY THAT!!! AND THAT’S HOW IT ENDS!?!?!? FUCK THAT!!! Okay, but I’m still super in the Joey Lives camp, and we know that Henry Jr is at least decently important in comics, so maybe we’ll get them both back? Idk. I’m a little undecided on whether I want Henry to have survived because this really doesn’t feel like the end of his arc, but more the start. So I want to see that really get addressed. But at the same time, I want death to have consequences (unless it’s one of my loves, obviously, I’m fine with being a hypocrite for that). 

I have so many thoughts, I’m really not sure where exactly to begin (beyond what I’ve already been saying), but that’s all things we can address later. That’s it for this weeks episode, for now, which means that I’ll see you next Sunday for Stargirl 1.11 “Shining Knight” it’s a fucking Shining Knight episode guys, that’s awesome! Honestly this show just ups the bar every episode, it’s probably the best DC show around currently period. It’s amazing.

[elisaenglish]

This Is Water: David Foster Wallace on Life

Revisiting the tragic literary hero’s only public insights on life.

On September 12, 2008, David Foster Wallace took his own life, becoming a kind of patron-saint of the “tortured genius” myth of creativity. Just three years prior to his suicide, he stepped onto the podium at Kenyon College and delivered one of the most timeless graduation speeches of all time — the only public talk he ever gave on his views of life. The speech, which includes a remark about suicide by firearms that came to be extensively discussed after Wallace’s own eventual suicide, was published as a slim book titled This Is Water: Some Thoughts, Delivered on a Significant Occasion, about Living a Compassionate Life (public library).

You can hear the original delivery in two parts here and here, along with the the most poignant passages.

On solipsism and compassion, and the choice to see the other:

“Here is just one example of the total wrongness of something I tend to be automatically sure of: everything in my own immediate experience supports my deep belief that I am the absolute centre of the universe; the realest, most vivid and important person in existence. We rarely think about this sort of natural, basic self-centredness because it’s so socially repulsive. But it’s pretty much the same for all of us. It is our default setting, hard-wired into our boards at birth. Think about it: there is no experience you have had that you are not the absolute centre of. The world as you experience it is there in front of YOU or behind YOU, to the left or right of YOU, on YOUR TV or YOUR monitor. And so on. Other people’s thoughts and feelings have to be communicated to you somehow, but your own are so immediate, urgent, real.

Please don’t worry that I’m getting ready to lecture you about compassion or other-directedness or all the so-called virtues. This is not a matter of virtue. It’s a matter of my choosing to do the work of somehow altering or getting free of my natural, hard-wired default setting which is to be deeply and literally self-centered and to see and interpret everything through this lens of self. People who can adjust their natural default setting this way are often described as being ‘well-adjusted’, which I suggest to you is not an accidental term.”

On the double-edged sword of the intellect, which Einstein, Steve Jobs, and Anne Lamott have spoken to:

“It is extremely difficult to stay alert and attentive, instead of getting hypnotised by the constant monologue inside your own head (maybe happening right now). Twenty years after my own graduation, I have come gradually to understand that the liberal arts cliché about teaching you how to think is actually shorthand for a much deeper, more serious idea: learning how to think really means learning how to exercise some control over how and what you think. It means being conscious and aware enough to choose what you pay attention to and to choose how you construct meaning from experience. Because if you cannot exercise this kind of choice in adult life, you will be totally hosed. Think of the old cliché about ‘the mind being an excellent servant but a terrible master.’

This, like many clichés, so lame and unexciting on the surface, actually expresses a great and terrible truth. It is not the least bit coincidental that adults who commit suicide with firearms almost always shoot themselves in the head. They shoot the terrible master. And the truth is that most of these suicides are actually dead long before they pull the trigger.

And I submit that this is what the real, no-bullshit value of your liberal arts education is supposed to be about: how to keep from going through your comfortable, prosperous, respectable adult life dead, unconscious, a slave to your head and to your natural default setting of being uniquely, completely, imperially alone day in and day out.”

On empathy and kindness, echoing Einstein:

“[P]lease don’t think that I’m giving you moral advice, or that I’m saying you are supposed to think this way, or that anyone expects you to just automatically do it. Because it’s hard. It takes will and effort, and if you are like me, some days you won’t be able to do it, or you just flat out won’t want to.

But most days, if you’re aware enough to give yourself a choice, you can choose to look differently at this fat, dead-eyed, over-made-up lady who just screamed at her kid in the checkout line. Maybe she’s not usually like this. Maybe she’s been up three straight nights holding the hand of a husband who is dying of bone cancer. Or maybe this very lady is the low-wage clerk at the motor vehicle department, who just yesterday helped your spouse resolve a horrific, infuriating, red-tape problem through some small act of bureaucratic kindness. Of course, none of this is likely, but it’s also not impossible. It just depends what you want to consider. If you’re automatically sure that you know what reality is, and you are operating on your default setting, then you, like me, probably won’t consider possibilities that aren’t annoying and miserable. But if you really learn how to pay attention, then you will know there are other options. It will actually be within your power to experience a crowded, hot, slow, consumer-hell type situation as not only meaningful, but sacred, on fire with the same force that made the stars: love, fellowship, the mystical oneness of all things deep down.”

On false ideals and real freedom, or what Paul Graham has called the trap of prestige:

“Worship power, you will end up feeling weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to numb you to your own fear. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart, you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. But the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they’re evil or sinful, it’s that they’re unconscious. They are default settings.

They’re the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that’s what you’re doing.

And the so-called real world will not discourage you from operating on your default settings, because the so-called real world of men and money and power hums merrily along in a pool of fear and anger and frustration and craving and worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom. The freedom all to be lords of our tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the centre of all creation. This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talk about much in the great outside world of wanting and achieving... The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriad petty, unsexy ways every day.

That is real freedom. That is being educated, and understanding how to think. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the rat race, the constant gnawing sense of having had, and lost, some infinite thing.”

On what “education” really means and the art of being fully awake to the world:

“The real value of a real education [has] almost nothing to do with knowledge, and everything to do with simple awareness; awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, all the time, that we have to keep reminding ourselves over and over:

‘This is water.’

‘This is water.’

It is unimaginably hard to do this, to stay conscious and alive in the adult world day in and day out. Which means yet another grand cliché turns out to be true: your education really IS the job of a lifetime.”

In the altogether excellent Magic Hours: Essays on Creators and Creation, Tom Bissell writes:

“The terrible master eventually defeated David Foster Wallace, which makes it easy to forget that none of the cloudlessly sane and true things he had to say about life in 2005 are any less sane or true today, however tragic the truth now seems. This Is Water does nothing to lessen the pain of Wallace’s defeat. What it does is remind us of his strength and goodness and decency — the parts of him the terrible master could never defeat, and never will.”

Complement with the newly released David Foster Wallace biography.

Source: Maria Popova, brainpickings.org (12th September 2012)

[asheardontape]

prayer of the ceaseless watcher

Based on THIS amazing piece of art (by @disturbedgerblin) that brought up what if the “ceaseless watcher” line was said more like a prayer than a shouted curse… and it got me thinking. God bless OP’s mind, first and foremost. Secondly: hope you enjoy! xo

Most nights, Jon went to sleep in his clothes.

It—both the habit and discomfort—didn’t matter much anyway: Jon slept on a bed far too small for both him and Martin; slept in the archives down the hall from his own office, hearing the tape recorder whirring in the ringing silent nights ; slept without dreams or even vivid, startling visions; never actually regained the ability to sleep; and, at the very bottom on his (well, Martin’s) list of worry, slept in his everyday work clothes. Which, as an insomniac, just made it become Jon laying down with the sole outcome of adding more wrinkles to his shirt.

It made his morning routine— the only time he had to spend away from the Archives—shorter, far easier to complete without getting caught up in the oh dear god what am I doing—what have I done. Once Jon was at his proper desk chair, tape’s company uninvited but not always unwelcome, he figured he could hold off any true soul-searching for just another morning:

Go to their basement bedroom. Lay down with Martin and ignore his itching thoughts of causing accidental voyeurism in favor of Martin’s sweet, soothing company. (Attempt to) sleep. Forget every dream. Rinse, repeat, resent.

That morning, Martin was already up and out of bed. Jon slept against the wall now, since Martin had fallen on him more than a few times trying to climb out of bed in the pitch dark without his glasses; Jon was the one with perfect night vision (now).

Jon pulled himself to the end of the bed, swinging his legs over the iron bars and sliding himself up and over it. It was the most thrilling fence-jumping Jon had to look forward to those days. It was the only fence he’d ever have a chance to run into, actually. No white picket ones now for him and Martin. Only the cold, cracked, and chipped stones of the tunnels.

It was once offered to them that it could be arranged for a white fence can be placed around Hill Top Road—but Martin sharply disagreed, and Jon didn’t want to risk it. Risk his arrangement.

With all the thrill of being in a home, a true home, with a man he considered one for so long—an amount of time physically unable to count, but sitting in Jon’s heart like an eternity—Jon feared he would forget to renew his promise. He would forget to prompt the Eye to remember the exchange: Jon’s sacrifice, details of which were kept secret and tucked into his quivering hands he clasped them against his waist slowly.

“Ceaseless watcher, turn your gaze upon this wretched thing and see it…” Jon slid his hands down to loop around his wrist. He tightened his fingers around it, the skin still sensitive and scars thick. His motion of respectful prayer turned into a mournful licking of aged wounds. “see me… beg. Gift me your Knowledge again, today, to keep those around me safe… At least those that are left.”

For a moment, Jon closed his eyes—as if able to pause the incantation—to think of his friends; the ones who had died just rooms away, their voices still held as echoes in the walls; the ones whose living voices could only buzz through a phone receiver every few days, more and more unsure of what to say to the quaking voice on the other end; the ones that lived (and maybe died) far beyond his Sight; the ones that had nothing left of them to See.

Their memories would flutter in clarity with the passing years, but the Eye never allowed him to forget the sharpness of their worst moments of suffering. Some days Jon hoped the blade of fear would cut deep enough to take them from him—but despite the relief of not knowing he was missing them, he felt like it could be removing the genuine last piece of humanity he had scrambled to keep. Jon couldn’t put all of that responsibility—keeping him humane—on Martin.

That was the exact opposite of the purpose the entire “retirement plan” Jon had granted Elias. Knife drawn and willing to lunge forward into the man—the stolen shape of one—or let his arm swing back and find the space made by missing two ribs—

Jon opened his eyes again.

“See and find me weak, vulnerable, but sturdy and willing. Find me broken. Find mercy. Allow clarity in my visions and readings—for enough strength to withstand your great Open Door. Allow fullness in my Sight—but also within my hearing.” With the one side of the bed already ice cold beside Jon’s warm one, he didn’t want it to be a one-sided exchange. Sometimes a routine allowed for change. “Leave me to believe things I have never seen, but also cannot see—only hear. Allow me to believe all the fear and world scoring horrors you have shown me… But also allow me to believe ‘I love you’ when it is said. And allow me to return the sentiment in truth as I know it is. As you Know.”

Jon hated getting so emotional when he had essentially, voluntarily set himself up with a bore IV to the Eye. The promise was a healthy, flushing emergency dose of dread before Jon could even lay eyes on another human being that day. Martin unintentionally handed Jon over to the Lonely on the mornings he snuck out of bed before Jon’s “prayer”.

Jon cleared his throat and lifted his chin, keeping his eyes and mind as unfocused and ungrounded as possible.

“Ceaseless watcher, please watch me suffer—and allow me to stand in the place of those you have wrung terror from before. Turn your gaze away from them and allow yourself to see only me. I am not only your Watcher. Let me be your Watched. Let me fill your desired horror: break me and fray me as I shudder to incoherence—something you can rewind and replay, if you wish. Outside of me, and what crosses the Institute, there isn’t much to see. Not like before, and you know that. My eyes are the best show. I know my way around. The Institute can’t run itself—and there will always be more statements.”

The word was slick on Jon’s tongue, like he was salivating—and he hated it. The Eye was definitely listening. Watching.

“Today, I pray to know myself and my limits,” Using Martin’s word felt like a small victory, but in the same way stepping in front of a train was a victory to stop it from hitting another stopped train up the track. “Also, I pray to remember that you may change them, change me, at will…

Ceaseless watcher, turn your gaze upon this wretched thing, and away from everyone else. Let them be free. Invisible. Undiscoverable. Know from me—about me—whatever you would like. I am your body and your servant,” Jon lowered his arms and took a slow, deep breath. He could hear Martin walking up the hall, hoping rising with Jon’s chest. The entire bed was cold by then. “but don’t make me be your grave. Amen.”

[ludi-ling]

Happy birthday to me, and to my love affair with OMD.

It’s my birthday today, and I was trying to think of something that’s been with me since the day I was born, right up till now; something that’s been so much a part of my life and informed who I’ve become today - the creative person, the spiritual person, the feeling person.

Apart from my wonderful family, of course, there are so many things; but few of those things have stayed with me since I was small till today. I thought long and I thought hard, and one of the things I kept coming back to was an early 80′s ‘New Wave’ band called Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark (OMD).

Growing up, I was one of those sad, sad kids who was brought up on music ranging all the way from the 1920′s to the 70′s. There was rarely any post-1980′s music being played in my household, and, as I got older, almost never any chart music. My dad loved music, but he had very little love for most of the ‘jelly-mould’, ‘cookie-cutter’ pop that churned through the charts. One of the few post-80′s acts that made it onto the record player or tape deck was OMD. 

I can’t remember how old I was when I first heard their music, but I definitely wasn’t older than 10. My dad, who was a mental health nurse, had a habit of listening to the records of patients he visited, borrowing the ones he liked, and copying them onto numerous cassette tapes. I’d gobble these up, and it was how I heard such fantastic acts such as the Velvet Underground, Frank Chickens, Billie Holiday, Marlene Dietrich (I knew her as a singer before an actress!), Hoagy Carmichael, Glenn Miller, The Carpenters, The Stranglers, The Mamas & The Papas, a whole slew of 1960′s bands, and on and on and on......

One of the cassette tapes I gorged on had ‘Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark’ written on the spine. I didn’t know it then, but Side A had some tracks from the 1983 album Dazzle Ships, followed by some tracks from the 1981 album Architecture & Morality. I don’t even remember what was on Side B. As a kid these were all just one big album to me, and I had no idea there were tracks missing, or that he’d recorded them out of chronological order. The songs just mesmerised me - synthetic yet divine; electronic yet somehow orchestral. I had no concept of the Cold War as a child, but those songs were full of it - full of clips from short wave radio surreptitiously recorded from beyond the Iron Curtain; the noisy, clunky, rattling beats meant to emulate the industrial land/soundscapes of Liverpool, where the band came from (like their legendary forbears, the Beatles); the grim and haunting melodies punctuated by gloriously angelic, church-like harmonies; the sometimes-cynical, sometimes-beautiful lyrics that were too often too-murkily sung for my young ears to understand. The crashing of waves, the clanging of metal on metal, the staccato drumbeat of lumbering freight trains; the whirring of computers and the pulsing of Morse code; soldiers chanting patriotic slogans in war-torn countries; choirs in Catholic cathedrals, saints in mystical ecstasy ...‘angels in the architecture, spinning in infinity, Amen and hallelujah!’. The subject matter encompassed everything from the lonely, grinding atmosphere of the shipbuilding industry that was slowly dying in England at the time; the helpless bliss of what it feels to fall completely in-love; the fairytale-like story of the sacrifice of one of the world’s most famous saints (which spoke to me in a way most songs couldn’t, being brought up as I had been by a devout Catholic grandmother). Andy McCluskey’s voice haunted me because I’d never heard anyone sing like that before - so raw, so full of pain and fear and desperation and disdain and rage and love and loss that most times I couldn’t understand what the hell he was saying. But I could understand the emotion behind the words - in a way the words were incidental and still are. I kind of fell in-love with him through his voice before I ever knew what he looked like (or could see his mad dance moves).

For a child whose imagination was far bigger than the courage her introverted personality could muster to go out into the world, this was the food for my soul, for my art. The soundtrack to my creative life, one that was still yet to really be.

As a teenager, I kept coming back to that cassette tape. CD’s became the rage, and I finally learned that the songs I’d listened to obsessively were from two albums, one released in the year I was born, the other in the year my sister was born. I bought those CD’s and my dad was amused to see them. He told me, later, that my sister, @jeannedarcprice​, had been partly named after one of their songs - Joan of Arc, which had been playing in the car when he was driving to the hospital to greet his new baby daughter. Jeanne was the name of our great-grandmother, but it was the OMD that gave her her full name - Jeanne d’Arc - Joan of Arc.

I listened to Architecture & Morality and Dazzle Ships in their proper order for the first time - I learned to love the other tracks my dad had omitted from his recording of that well-worn tape. I knew about the Cold War by then - I’d been just about old enough when the Berlin Wall came down to understand how massive it was - and those subtly morose moods the tunes had evoked came more sharply into focus. Suddenly, my more adult ears began to decode lyrics my immature ones had never been able to figure out. It took me years to figure out what I think all those lyrics actually are. Their beauty just took my love affair to a whole other level. I was beginning to write then, seriously. As time went on, the impressions the OMD had left on me as a child had started to real percolate - blend into my being. I never realised then how much those words and sounds stayed with me, but they did. And later, when I was 20 and my father died, one thing of his that stayed with me was the OMD.

There are many things that have inspired my paltry writings, but if anyone asked me today what impacted me so deeply for the longest amount of time, it would probably be Architecture & Morality and Dazzle Ships. The mechanised rhythms and electronic beats that evoked images of grey, concrete, industrial cityscapes - they became the background music to my love affair with post-apocalyptic wastelands. The angelic harmonies and the glorious, sweeping melodies that told of the divine - they were the glimmering light, the tiny threads of warmth that lit those hopeless post-apocalyptic wastelands with the very things that keep humanity alive despite all the odds - hope, trust, joy and, most of all, love.

Today, these are the things I still write about, draw about; and if you had to put a soundtrack to any of it, it would probably be the OMD. If you had to put a soundtrack to my life, 1981-2018, it would probably be them. 

One of the highlights of my life was getting to see them play both albums live in their entirety for the first time at the Albert Hall in 2016 - and the only thing that would have made it perfect would’ve been for my dad to have been sitting right there next to me.

---

I thought about adding a link here to Architecture & Morality and Dazzle Ships as they were recorded, chronologically. But in the end, I decided to do my own playlist, the way it had run on that old cassette tape my dad made all those years ago - out of order, and with numerous tracks missing. Here it is. I still remember how it goes. RIP dad, wherever you are.

--Lyrics--

1. Radio Prague

Z Praha Československé zahraniční vysílání.

2. Telegraph

I've got a telegraph in my hand. Words on paper, written in sand. We've got telegraph, right across this land. It doesn't mean a damn thing. We don't understand. But who needs telegraph anyway? I've got a telegraph in my hand. Words on paper, written in sand. We've got telegraph, right across this land. It doesn't mean a damn thing. We don't understand, we never understand! God's got a telegraph on his side. It makes Him powerful, gives Him pride. Even in America, God bless America! They understand the value of the telegraph. Hand in hand, hand in hand...

3. This is Helena

Music for your tape recorder. I hope you will enjoy it. This is Helena, this is Helena. This is Helena, your M.C. today.

4. International

Now and then a little thing gets by. Now and then we'll cry. Like a fall in a war, like a mother's open arms, Like a pawn in a game, hard to tame. There we sit on a line, wasting fortunes at a time, and pray. All the time we are gone, there's no reason, there’s no way, Or the soul is the one, so they say. There we sit on a line, wasting fortunes at a time, and play. She never thought he’d be this way. Her arms aloft, she holds. But now it's all a memory. And it’s gone...

5. Silent Running

God only knows this isn’t heaven. The promises made, He never keeps them. We’re walking on air, we’re taking our time. But God only knows this isn’t reason or rhyme. I’ve had this feeling I don’t believe in. It’s happened before, I just rejected it. We’re walking on air, we’re taking our time. But God only knows this isn’t reason or rhyme. These are the feelings, I know their outcome. It’s useless pretending, I’d like to beat them. We’re walking on air, we’re taking our time. But God only knows, this isn’t reason or rhyme. We’re walking on air, we’re taking our time this time. But God only knows, this isn’t reason or rhyme. We’re walking on air.

6. Times Zones

7. She’s Leaving

Every day, a new start,  A cheap affair, a sordid truth. We never learn to guide our hearts, We’ll never find what we deserve. She’s leaving, she waited for so long. She’d pretend that he cared, Invent some tale just to gain his heart. But no more dreams, she didn't dare. She’d washed her hands of this whole affair. She’s leaving, she waited for so long. She’s leaving, she waited for so long. But as she left, she gave her heart, Abandoned hope, and turned for home. I thought I’d ask, Ah, but then again, The more we learn, the less we know. The more we learn, less we know.

8. Souvenir

It’s my direction It’s my proposal It’s so hard It’s leading me astray. My obsession It’s my creation You’ll understand It’s not important now. All I need is Co-ordination. I can’t imagine My destination. My intention Ask my opinion. With no excuse My feelings still remain My feelings still remain

9. Sealand

Sealand, forgets her friends. She'll not leave them again. Mother, sister, at home.  These arms fail you so.

10. Joan of Arc

Little Catholic girl who’s falling in love. A face on a page, gift from above. She should’ve known better than to give her heart, She should’ve known better than to ever part without me, without me. I gave her everything that I ever owned, I think she understood ‘cos she never spoke. She shouldn’t oughta try to be that way, She shouldn’t have to go there ever again without me, without me. Now listen to us good and listen well, Listen to the song, everything we tell. We should’ve known better than to give her away. We should’ve known better to this very day, without me, without me. Now listen, Joan of Arc, all you gotta do, Is say the right words and I’ll be coming through, Hold you in my arms and take you right away. Now she’s gone away to another land. We never understood why she gave her hand. She shouldn’t oughta promise, ‘cos it’s just pretend. I know she doesn’t mean it and she’ll leave again without me, without me. Without me, without me.

11. Maid of Orleans

If Joan of Arc Had a heart Would she give it as a gift? To such as me Who longs to see How an angel ought to be. Her dream’s to give Her heart away, Like an orphan, unaware. She cared so much, She offered up, Her body to the grave.

12. Georgia

Well, here we are again. Two, too good to be friends, Forever, forever, forever. Well, look at what we’ve done. Three, three rolled into one Together, together, together. So, how can this be true? We, we thought that we knew you Forever, forever, forever. We will watch the morning star, Rising over home, Georgia. Dancing in the ruins of the western world, Blindfolds on like we don’t care.

13. The Beginning and the End

This is where we start, this now takes our hearts away. Thus we reach the end, the beginning and the end. You see, I could not try and here are you and I, Parting, due to me only, And now...... 

[imwithmars]

Flaunt Magazine 2004 interview

David Fincher – “It goes kind of like, ‘How   can you tell when Jared is lying? His lips are moving.’”

Rock & Roles –

Flaunt Magazine, by Shari Roman

December 2004

“This is fantastic,” murmurs Jared Leto as the relentless Moroccan   sun sears destiny into his bronzed, bare skin. He is sweating under his tight  armor. His dark horse, Mateo, quivers beneath him and paws the ground nervously. A signal is given.

Leto howls a great animalistic yowl straight from his belly to the ears of   the gods. There is another howl, then another. Thousands of voices fuse into   one animal cry. A legion of alpha males surges forward to meet the enemy, Leto,   blond hair hair streaming past his shoulders, muscular thighs gripped bareback   on his galloping horse, rides hard into the thick of a bloody combat. His sword   cuts through all who oppose him.

This is the filming of Oliver Stone’s Alexander and the legendary battle of   Gaugamela, Alexander’s greatest victory over the Persians - a turning point   in his conquest of the known world. Stone’s sweeping historical saga charts   the life and the legend of one of the greatest figures in world history. The   story is an epic that is a daring and ambitious as its subject, a relentless   conqueror who, by the age of 32, had amassed the greatest empire the world hade   ever seen.

Through the clouds of dust, Leto can see Colin Farrell as Alexander the Great,   his massive blade slicing into flesh and sinew. There is the director, Oliver   Stone, shouting, moving rapidly behind the camera line. There are hordes of   men bellowing, bleeding, bodies everywhere. On the fringes lurks famed military   trainer and Stone cohort, Captain Dale Dye. Today, the Captain isn’t wearing   his favorite T-shirt emblazoned with the motto: “Pain is weakness leaving   the body,” but Leto needs no reminders.

Leto has always propelled himself into physical extremes to live inside a character.   As the champion runner Steve Prefontaine, he bled his feet to the bone. In the   drug-fueled Requiem For A Dream, he reportedly swore off sex (with then girlfriend,   Cameron Diaz) and lost 28 pounds to play a junky. Then there was Fight Club   (he’d been recommended for the part his friend, fellow pretty boy, Brad Pitt.),   in which he begged to have his angelic face beaten to a pulp by a jealous Ed   Norton to prove his fealty. Suffering, pain, causality, creation through transformation.   Leto has pledged himself above and beyond to those epithets years ago.

“Killing people face to face for a living, that was their job,” explains   a laidback Leto a few months later from a low-key restaurant in Southern California.   It’s early afternoon. His clothing is relaxed and he looks pleasantly tired.

“It’s not jet lag. I’m over that. I just couldn’t sleep.” It’s not   due to time spent with his (purported) new, luscious It-girl Scarlett Johansson.   He’s been concentrating on working on some new songs for his band, 30 Seconds   To Mars, taking meetings between rehearsals before he heads off to New York   and South Africa for three months to play another aggressor of sorts - an arms   dealer - in the film Lord of War, with Nicolas Cage and director Andrew Niccol   (Gattaca).

He is still pretty tan, making those pioneering blue eyes even more startling.   His long, blonde warrior-god locks are gone now, dyed and clipped into a light   brown Erik Estrada-style shag for the new movie. But there is still a trace   of the Irish lilt he took on for Alexander. (Aside from gearing it toward Farrell’s   natural tones, Stone’s rationale for the accent was that historically, the Macedonians   were to the Greeks what the Irish have been to the English.) Most of the 15   pounds of muscle weight that he strapped on for the six-month shoot has slipped   from his slim frame. Even so, the intensity of that experience is still on his   mind and in his body.

“The film has plenty of f***ing and fighting and killing and death and   blood. My job was to murder people and stand by Alexander.” who, according   to history, was his best friend since childhood, and his lover.

“Hephaestion, the character I play, and [Alexander] have a really special   connection. It’s a strong, strong relationship. I don’t think there is a term   we have today to define their relationship,” he says, deliberately muddling   around the oft-asked erotic question.

Farrell says, “There was no term for 'bisexuality’. It was just the way   society was. People made love to men and women. It was only later on you had   to pick one side of the fence.”

“But I promise you, in the film,” Leto teases, despite the magnetic   charms of Farrell, and costars Rosario Dawson and Angelina Jolie, who play Alexander’s   wife and mother, “the only kiss I gave out was to my horse. My one true   love.”

He takes the tape recorder and places it gently against his chest, which holds   within it the soul of a man who many have tried to reveal before. “I always   tell the truth. What else do you want to know? What do people really want to   know? What is the truth?” His face is a pure cheeky choir boy dare. “When   have I ever not told you the truth? How can you tell that I’m lying?”

I remind him that the last time we met, he told me he owned three Uzis, that   the first girl he kissed was a 47-year-old tranny named Jorge, that he was 19,   raised by circus performers, and that he studied art at the American University   of Paris for a semester, but was booted out when he wouldn’t give in to the   attentions of the headmaster. And he wouldn’t back down to any of those “facts”.

He laughs. “Really? As Ronald Regan used to say, 'I have no memory of   saying such things.’ ”

Says producer/director David Fincher, who worked with Leto on both Fight Club  and Panic Room, “When it comes to his acting, he is beyond method. He gets  into this whole image of his character. It is interesting how that kind of pain and sacrifice can translate. I mean, look at Requiem. I wish I had 100 Jareds   working for me. He was amazing.

"Jared definitely strives not to be a victim of his genetics. On the films   we did together, he was the guy who is constantly curious, the one you couldn’t bottle up. The one who wouldn’t hit his mark. He was like, 'Hey, I’m living it! Over here!’ But he does like to tell stories. It goes kind of like, 'How can you tell when Jared is lying? His lips are moving.’ ”

Leto, who prefers to see his playful fibbing as a way to keep his private life   private, was born the day after Christmas, 33 years ago, in Bossier City, Louisiana. His mother was an artistic soul, and with his father out of the picture, he and his brother, Shannon (who is also in 30 Seconds To Mars), traveled a great deal while they were growing up. After a stint at New York’s School of Visual Arts, he says, he came to Los Angeles around 12 years ago with a couple hundred bucks in his pocket, no friends, and nowhere to stay. For awhile, he slept on Venice Beach. Then kaboom! a role on television’s My So-Called Life (opposite Claire Daines) and for the next few years, he reigned as a teen pinup - a tag   and a look he has been successfully living down ever since.

According to Leto, “Luck is the residue of destiny.” It’s a phrase   he’s heard which he likes very much. He feels it means that we can get caught up in so many things, but the world has what it has for us. That, in our natural state, everything is the way it’s supposed to be - free and joyous - and that our own insecurities get in the way of all that. It’s an idea which could be   applied to his early life.

“When I was young, all that traveling was exciting,” says Leto. “You   do develop an ability to read people more quickly. You have to learn to adapt to whatever comes along, to survive. Maybe the way I grew up is why I’m drawn to acting, to different characters. From film to film, I’m constantly finding myself, reaching different places outside and inside myself. I want to change, to morph into something else.” To be able to do that for Oliver Stone is a gift, says Leto. “He is one of my f***ing heroes. He is a great man. Present, connected, very physical. I find his way very endearing.”

To work with Stone, he traveled to Morocco, where the oncoming sunset had turned the world orange, into the color of dark rust. But the sky was growing dark, the golden scorpions were scuttling under the rocks, another sandstorm was moving toward the camp, fast.

Within moments, Leto, wearing his usual training gear - a T-shirt, tight shorts,   boots covering his calves - couldn’t see two feet ahead of him. The sand whipped raw against his skin as he made for his tent. Inside, he tightened the flap and listened to the wind howl. He had switched off his cell phone, his e-mail. He hadn’t spoken to anyone in the U.S. for months. Apocalyptic fantasies crowded his brain. Many in the cast had already been horribly sick. There was a virus in the dust. His tent was next door to the latrine and he could hear cast and crew heave by the dozens.

One night, Leto got so sick, he thought he was going to toss a spleen.“I lay in bed for a couple of hours staring at the stars, just breathing really   slow, willing it away. I fell asleep dreaming strange, surreal dreams. When   I woke up, it was gone. That’s the desert.”

Says Dawson, “It was beyond primal, all those men bonding - horse training,   fighting, all buffed up wearing nearly nothing. And as soon as a woman came   on set, the energy was so damn erotic.

"One time Jared came to visit the hotel [where women stayed]. He was so   happy to be there. He got to take a shower, have some proper food.So he’s talking, sitting there, and just sort of adjusting the package, not sexually, but in   this slow, languorous way, like there was no one else around.It was all suited   to his character, but I was like, 'Hey dude…’

"And he was like, 'I’m sorry! We’re out there in our underwear and boots   all the time… maybe it’s got us a little too relaxed.’ Maybe. But it was all   good.” She bats her eyes.“It was wonderful being around that kind of really masculine environment.”

“Oh, Rosario,” responds Leto, “she is so beautiful. Such a great   woman.” He drops his head, smiling, not exactly asking for forgiveness.“Working on Alexander was an amazing experience. It’s all about connectivity. There is an old saying that the greatest leader is the servant of them all. Meaning, you are the most powerful when you are giving.”

“I think that as an artist, in any kind of expression of creation, that   you must have to be in love with the process. It is the most exciting part of the work, and that if you have a desire for greatness, you will have to be willing to f***ing bleed. I think it’s true for me.That’s what drives me.”

He claps his hands over his face. “F***. People are going to read this   and think, 'What the f***? Is weirdo Leto on crack? Hitting the old acid tab again.’ But honestly, it’s what I believe. One of my favorite things about getting older is that my intuition is often wrong.To me, it means I’m uncovering something   new about the world.

[flapperfromthefuture]

Michael, what have you done?

That’s what I keep asking him in my head. Because in my head, Michael and I have been friends my whole life. In my inner life’s landscape, he is as natural and enduring as Mickey Mouse or Winnie the Pooh or any person I’ve known so long I can’t remember ever meeting them. No one ever told me who Michael Jackson was. He was just always there.

You have to understand, Michael was the first music I ever heard. My mom listened to one tape, and one tape only, while she was pregnant with me, and that was Thriller.

The first sounds I ever heard in this world were my mother’s heartbeat, my parents’ voices, and Michael singing about monsters. How he was going to protect us from them. Ignore his glowing eyes and the chill in his voice as he says “I’m not like other guys.”

Was he daring us to truly see him the entire time?

Wade Robson says that Michael began his grooming process long before he or James Safechuck ever met him, because Michael groomed the entire world.

What chance did one little boy have against him? Or two little boys, or three or four or perhaps more—no, definitely more?

What chance did any of us have?

You have to understand, I was a child when Michael was everything. Everyone in the world loved him—the biggest stars right now have barely an ember of his star power.

Even E.T. and Kermit were stoked to meet him. Fred Astaire was in awe of his dancing. Princesses and presidents bowed down to him. When everyone from luminaries to little kids treats you like a god, what hope do you have of staying human?

  One day, we were dancing to Black or White in the living room at my friend’s house. My friend abruptly stopped dancing, ran to his mother in the kitchen and said, “Mom! If Dad dies, will you marry Michael Jackson?”

His mom laughed and said, “Sure, why not?” And my friend bopped happily back to his place in front of the altar to our hero and we danced to his song.

We were six.

Only now do I realize that he made that video—as a man in his 30s—with cameos from multiple children, including the most popular child star since Shirley Temple, the cartoon characters from every kid’s favorite TV show, and a child-friendly message of “It doesn’t matter what color your skin is! We can all dance together and turn into panthers!” rather than attempt a bolder, more artistically complex statement befitting someone of his talent and experience. Janelle Monae is the same age now and she’s been writing songs that run circles around Michael for years.

Did he ever truly care about his art? Or was it all calculated to appeal to children? To get him access to children?

One day, I was riding along in my babysitter’s car, listening to the Dangerous album. She knew everything about music. So she knew everything about Michael. She had Bad and Thriller ready for action, right in the front seat. I remember so clearly holding the Bad CD in one little hand, and Thriller in the other, and realizing for the first time, “He looks different.” But I never thought he looked like a different person. Even though his hair, his nose, his skin had completely changed, I could see the same soul across both faces.

At least, I thought I did. Now I think I imagined a spark in his eyes that was never truly there. But I was a child then, and Michael was just Michael. I’d known him for all seven years of my life, as long as I’d known anybody. Sure, I didn’t really know him, but that didn’t matter. I forgot about it a second later. It wasn’t worth thinking too hard about. Never even asked my babysitter to explain it, and I asked her to explain everything.

There was a song on Dangerous about a little girl who is murdered by an abusive guardian. Michael’s voice was so vivid and tender, even as he sang about the blood in the little girl’s hair. That song haunted me. I asked my babysitter to play it again and again.

I knew that children could be hurt by adults. When I was little, we were taught to be afraid of strangers and not walk anywhere by ourselves and never answer the door unless an adult was home. It was horrific and impossible to understand but always a lurking possibility that adults could hurt you. And I was glad that Michael was telling people about this.

Michael really cared about children, I thought. After all, he was friends with so many.

Wade was 5 when he won a dance contest in Australia, and first prize for being the best mini-Michael was to meet Michael himself. James was cast in a commercial at 9 where he wore Michael’s jackets and imitated his moves, and then after a camera crew came to his house to film an “audition tape” in his bedroom (for reasons never made clear to his mother, but she didn’t seem to mind), he was invited to join the Bad tour, and dance with Michael on stage every night.

Watching this little boy bound on stage, in front of thousands of screaming fans, and dance with all the confidence and joy in the world, as his shattered adult self wistfully narrates how much fun he had, made me cry for both of them.

Michael took all these luminous children and turned them into broken adults.

Was it some way of molding them into mini-Michaels forever?

They were so small.

When you’re a child, you don’t understand how small you truly are.

When Michael died, I cried for him. I’ve loved his music since before I knew what music was. I’ve spent hours watching his videos, documentaries, concerts. I’ve obsessed over his spins, his steps, the way he winks in Smooth Criminal, the way he snaps his fingers in the The Way You Make Me Feel.  He’d gotten me through bad days at school, stress and sadness, a secret friend in my ear always eager to cheer me up. When my sister had to have cardiac surgery as a teenager, I spent twelve hours in the waiting room reading an 832-page biography on Michael. The only thing big enough to distract me from absolute crushing fear was him.

Stella and I got Mexican food and watched his funeral live on CNN. We cried for his children. They’ll never get to truly know him, we said.

Now I have to hope that he died before either of his sons reached his target age range.

After he died, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. What he could have accomplished if it weren’t for all the drama dragging him down in the last half of his life.

What he would’ve looked like if he’d been able to stand his own face.

What he could have done if he’d just gotten a good therapist and cut ties with his family and the hangers-on who kept turning on him for a payout.

Oh, yes, I believed that lie too. I mean, it had been fed to me since I was eight. Of course there are people out there who will lie that the worst crime has been committed against their child and willfully drag that child through the legal system and the 24/7 media spotlight and a lifetime of “Hey, weren’t you that kid . . .” just for a shot at a few bucks.

That makes total sense.

Why did it ever make sense?

After he died, I spent hours watching old videos and interviews and long story short, I took 255 screenshots and saved them to a file on my computer. I never looked at them again, so I don’t know why I needed to save them.

It started out as just wanting to find a good picture of him smiling—really smiling, not just posing or performing, but holding a genuine, human smile. Turned out, that was hard to find.

How sad, I thought. For all of his money and fame and accomplishments, he knew such little real happiness in his life. He always had to be “on.” He was so lonely, with no one who ever loved him for himself, but that was his sacrifice to make us all happy.

That’s what he told us.

Those boys loved him. Those boys still love him. James says that he feels guilty, still, for letting Michael down.

Everyone let James down, but no, he blames himself. It wasn’t his fault. It’s never any child’s fault, but he’s spent his entire life blaming himself. That’s what Michael trained him to do. That’s what this abuse does to you. It corrupts the very wiring of your brain.

Wade says that for him to understand that he was abused meant questioning everything that had ever happened to him from the age of 5, from his love of dance to the break-up of his family to his livelihood as an adult.  It takes decades to understand and even longer to accept that your whole childhood was a lie.

“Michael was good. That was all that existed in my mind,” he says.

Michael willfully destroyed Wade’s childhood and his family. James will spend the rest of his life putting himself back together. And they still loved him. So many people still love him. But they don’t matter. What matters is that Wade and James are telling the truth. And people are listening. We’ve lost our friend, for real this time—because not even death could truly take him, not when his music plays somewhere every minute—and we have to accept, at long last, that what we felt for him was genuine, but he never was.

Before I deleted my file of Michael’s pictures, I went through them all first, one by one, but I never found that human smile. Just hundreds of shifting masks and hollow eyes with all the glow extinguished.

  Our Friend Michael, the Monster Michael, what have you done? That's what I keep asking him in my head. Because in my head, Michael and I have been friends my whole life.

[motownfiction]

hold me, thrill me, kiss me

The wedding itself is boring. Colleen is upset they’re not getting married by the priest at St. Catherine’s, but Lucy refuses. Every time she brings it up, Lucy says the same thing.

“I just know he’s the kind of guy who’s going to say something fucking stupid, like, ‘Will, aren’t you going to kiss your bride?’” she says. “I can’t handle that.”

“How do you know he would say that?”

“I’ve got a hunch, Colleen, and my hunches are not to be messed with.”

In about five years, when that very priest marries Sadie and Daniel, he will look at Daniel and ask, “Aren’t you going to kiss your bride?” Colleen will cringe and make instant eye contact with Lucy, who is also cringing. In 1983, they have no way of knowing.

Eventually, even Colleen resigns herself to a courthouse wedding. Almost nobody is there. Aside from the parents, it’s just Sadie, Sam, and Daniel. Not even one of Will’s sisters attends. Earlier, he invited them and told them he’d be honored to have them there. Like any good sisters, they all looked at him and told him he was gross. Years from now, when Lucy and Will come back home to renew their vows, they’ll express their remorse. Today, Will has no way of knowing. 

Lucy doesn’t even wear a white dress – just the only pink frock she had hanging in her closet (and the only one that still fits on a woman in her second trimester). They’ve got the whole place to themselves. Best of all, the officiant just says, “You may now kiss the bride” like a normal person. Lucy’s never been so relieved by a patriarchal tradition in all her life.

There is no wedding reception. These are the privileges you sacrifice when you get pregnant in high school. Will paints a JUST MARRIED sign in the art room to tape on the bumper of his Maverick, and he takes Lucy and the car from the courthouse to the river. They park, and Will lets out the sigh he’s been holding in since he woke up in love this morning.

“I’d run you through a drive-thru, but I don’t wanna hurt your feelings,” he says.

“What do you mean by that?” Lucy asks.

“I mean I know you’re feeling kinda down about not being able to have your Coca-Cola. Doctor said it wasn’t good for the baby, right?”

Lucy sighs.

“Oh, yeah,” she says. “That.”

Will sighs again and fumbles around the middle console. He pulls out a tape, and Lucy leans over to check it out. She laughs.

“Mel Carter?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Will says. “What’s the problem?”

“Nothing. I’m just wondering if you borrowed it from your parents or from Sam.”

Will’s ears turn bright red as he takes the tape out of its case.

“Neither, as a matter of fact,” he says. “This one’s all mine.”

“Mmm,” Lucy says and stretches out in the passenger seat. “You’re just chock full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yeah. Just like Lucky Charms.”

“I think you thought that was a joke.”

“And it wasn’t?”

“Not really. I’ll stay married to you, though. Because I love you.”

Will beams and puts the tape in the deck. Lucy’s not surprised by the first song.

Hold me, hold me / never let me go until you’ve told me, told me / what I want to know and then just hold me …

Before she can decide which snarky comeback she wants to make, Will turns up the volume and holds out his hand. Lucy looks at him like he’s radioactive.

“Come on,” he says, a little like he expects her to say no.

But she doesn’t. She takes his hand, and they get out of the car. For a second, she’s not sure what they’re going to do. But then, Will wants to dance. Lucy grabs onto his shoulder, and before she can take a breath, he’s got his hand on her back.

“Will …” she says, but nothing comes next.

“Figured we had to make up for the spring dance,” Will says. “You know, when we made out to a breakup song.”

Lucy laughs.

“It was your idea to dance to a breakup song!”

“Ah, but it was your idea to kiss me. So we gotta make up for it. Before we’re cursed.”

Lucy laughs again and eases into it. Will is surprisingly deft as a dancer. He’s got a rhythm. Lucy wants to tell him she loves him again, but it’s not enough for tonight. She rests her chin on his shoulder and closes her eyes, trying to map a memory.

[along-the-way]

Almost had an anxiety attack at like 11:15pm, wrote this while listening to Hozier

I stood out in the rain tonight. Just let it hit the top of my head. I tried to breathe in the damp air but it was like my lungs were closed for business. I was really cold. But I didn’t want to go back inside. I only did because I didn’t want my mom to worry. The stupid Ring alarm beeps every time I open an exterior door.

I haven’t felt this scared in a long time. Not “scared” necessarily. Just incredibly unsettled. It’s like holding on to a railing of the building that is collapsing. But it hasn’t started collapsing yet. But my brain mistakes a stray hair for a crack in the walls. The vibration of a cellphone becomes an earthquake. The last time it was this bad was maybe a year ago? Maybe as far back at before I was on meds? I used to lay in my dorm bed, every night not doing anything. Maybe watching a movie for 15 minutes and getting distracted by whatever was making me anxious. Just laying there, wrapped in blankets. Too scared to find people to be friends with, sometimes too scared to go to class, a lot of times too scared to eat. And that was today. Too scared to get out of bed. Too scared to get myself food until like 7: 00pm. Too scared to call someone who might understand. Too scared to even leave my room.

And I hate to admit that.

How do I tell the kid from school who said they admired how I was so open about my anxiety that I couldn’t get out of bed today? This kid wrote me an anonymous letter and bought me a fucking candle. I can only joke about being anxious so much before it starts to hurt that no one asks me if I’m okay. Because I’m not and sometimes I think people don’t actually believe me or care. But that might also be a side effect of the anxiety. I don’t want to be that self-diagnosing bitch saying it’s paranoia but it feels like it.

How do I convince my mom that it’s no one else’s fault? I tried to talk to her about how I’m feeling and it just becomes about her. Every time. I told her I’m trying not to be crazy, not to ask for validation or affirmation all the time and she just shrugged and said, “well, we are crazy. We’re the same.” and I just. I wanted to scream. I don’t want to be like this. This is why I can’t keep friends. This is why I struggle with school and work. Because I learned to need constant reassurance that I’m not a failure from her. Obviously not just from her, that’s unfair. But I watched her all my life like that. I don’t want to have to ask everyone I care about to tell me constantly that they care about me too. I want to be sure enough of myself and trust people enough to not have to. It’s just really hard to try to unlearn that when she’s in my ear telling me that it doesn’t get better. That I need to find people who accommodate this. But that’s dumb.  Isn’t it? Half of the problem is I don’t know how to explain to people how I'm feeling and what I need. I never learned how to actually ask for what I need from people so it only ever happens by accident. 

How do I get up tomorrow and not have another day like today? I have to do something different. I have to wake up trusting that the world isn’t crumbling. I mean it is to some extent but my relationships aren’t crumbling. I need to do something that keeps me busy. Thinking about something mundane and simple and repetitive. God they’re going to murder me if I start a puzzle.

I just feel like I’m missing everything. I end up spiraling and paralyzed. That’s literally what it feels like and I wish I was exaggerating. It’s like putting a Rumba on hyper speed but trapped in a corner and like the Rumba isn’t sure if it has a knife taped to it or not so it just has to assume it’s creating maximum damage. That’s maybe the worst analogy I’ve ever written. But really. It’s restlessness and aching and paralysis with a dash of shallow breathing. And nothing is distracting enough. Talking to you is. Talking to Lexie and Val is. Talking to Michael and Will is sometimes. TV doesn’t do it. Writing does it sometimes. Scrolling mindlessly works for about 5 minutes but then I just start feeling worse about myself. But I just end up laying here. Holding on to a pillow really tight makes the pressure in my chest hurt less. Falling asleep on accident is a nice gift. I can’t feel all the shitty things if I’m asleep! But that’s avoidance. Like diagnosed avoidance technique. 

I’m missing the last summer I can really spend at home before I have to find where my next temporary home is. Everything just feels fucking temporary. If there’s no physical school next year, I’ll end up breaking my lease and finding somewhere else to be for a year, but just a year. Then back to Skippy Groves for a year. Then who knows where. New York is too expensive. Chicago is better. LA is scary. Seattle isn’t right anymore. I’d literally sacrifice my right boob rather than keep living in St. Louis. But no matter what, it’s going to be temporary. I’ll have a “home-base” but I’ll hopefully be out all over the place working. But then I’ll never be anywhere for more than 4 months at a time. Probably closer to 2 most of the time. I want to actually have roots again someday. Something permanent. I don’t like temporary. I never have.

I’m missing the revolution of art apparently. If I get one more notification about a   virtual project to apply for I’m going to scream. I want to take a breath. I’m not expected to do anything except work and take care of myself and this is the first real long break I’ve had since the summer after freshman year. I want to breathe. Take a second to not be constantly moving forward. It’s exhausting. I do like the idea that I’m like a shark that has to keep swimming forward. But what if I want to be one of the high sea turtles from Finding Nemo instead? Just ride the current for the summer? Because as soon as I go back to school, I’m in charge of two huge student organizations, applying for fellowships, working three jobs, being a senior and taking a full load of classes because I’m dumb. I have to do so much when I’m back and I want to breathe. I want to write my play and edit my other play, work, and sleep. That’s all.

I’m missing seeing my dad because I’m too anxious to be social and too scared of getting him sick. I miss him so much. I miss just sitting and watching movies with him. I never paid attention to them, I just liked hanging out with him. He’s like my best friend now and I don’t get to see him. He listens really well. And he doesn’t try to give advice, he just listens and I need that. 

And meanwhile mom is bitter and broken and scared I’ll turn out like her and I don’t want that either. I can’t say that to her. But I don’t want that at all. I want to be my own person. She keeps saying she just wants me to be able to be happy again. And to her that means laughing and smiling all the time. But I guess that’s not happy to me, that’s appearing happy. And I can do that really well. I know how to appear like I have it together and that I’m extremely happy. But it’s exhausting. So I stop trying. But that scares her. I couldn’t tell her about how bad last night got because she’ll just cry. I’d have to back track and say never mind, I’m overreacting or she’d just call my dad in tears and say I’m suicidal when she hasn’t even listened. She heard a buzzword and would start to panic, saying she failed as a mother and how she “doesn’t know when I lost my joy.” That’s her favorite thing to say. And I could tell her when, not exact dates but the when and the who. But that would open up a lot of other conversations I don’t want to have with her. And we know she doesn’t react well to the idea of me even moderately not wanting to live.

And I’m not suicidal. No plans, no methods. Just passing thoughts. The shortest moments. I know how to sink into those and last night I did. But I know to stay in bed when that happens. Don’t go upstairs, don’t go into the gym or the workshop. Just stay in bed, pull the blankets tighter, try to breathe. It’ll hurt less when I wake up and it always does. Give it a few days and they’ll be gone. They always go away. And despite the current pandemic, things are good. I do have good people in my life. I have dreams and all that mushy stuff. I’m not doing poorly in my chosen path. So that’s okay. 

Tomorrow is going to be better. I’m going to run maybe. I’m going to eat at least twice. I’m going to write a page. I’m going to do my laundry. I’m going to make a cake. I’m going to find something that makes me smile. I’m going to write like this again because this was nice. I guess I did fall back into “journaling” how my teachers all said I would. I hate when people tell me to do something and I refuse out of spite then they end up being right. But I think it’s better if I just accept this one at face value. 

Goodnight. Sleep tight. 

[jasmineshea]

The Power of Persistence

Ever since I left the midwest to find more film work on the east coast as an actor, I’ve been able to subsist mostly on freelance work as a casting professional. Casting work has a freelancer’s rhythm to it, comes and goes...but the way the chips fell, I worked in casting for pretty much the entirety of 2019. The first part of the year was spent working from home each day, waking up and putting on my comfy pants and my warm socks and firing up the coffee pot, then sitting in front of my laptop and combing through faces and audition tapes to find the perfect actors to play a modern family in a snack foods commercial or a group of coworkers talking about their favorite new streaming media service. The second half of 2019...a different story entirely. I woke up earlier each morning, drove myself out to a production office in what could affectionately be called the middle of nowhere, and got to work every day on an incredible limited series with some of the most powerfully creative people I’ve met in my entire life. I had no idea what the experience would be like until I was in the middle of it, in awe of where I had ended up. Working on this show taught me new things about what it means to be an artist and a filmmaker, to put it extremely mildly. I was firmly planted in Casting Land, responsible for finding and booking other actors, but I learned so much about acting. I got to do some incredible things like sit in on a dozen or more casting meetings with producers and hear them talk about how one builds a world and sets up a story through the characters and performers (and costumes, and sets, and props, and...you get the picture). I sat in on my first table read. I talked to studio and network executives for the first time, all of whom were warm, excited, and encouraging. Seeing the creative team (and one producer in particular) show up everyday with passion, love, and excitement for their work and swimming in that sea of enthusiasm changed me in ways I now find hard to articulate. Whatever direction I had been headed before, this experience blew my ship onto a different course and a new destination. You could see how in love these people were with their work as storytellers. Steeping in that feeling every day, I should have seen it coming miles away -- I ended up falling in love with storytelling, too, and in a way I didn’t even know I had been missing this entire time.

In the middle of all the casting work on this series, I was booked to work as an actor for a few days, and I was looking forward to feeling like a performer again, even if only briefly. On the morning before my first day of filming, as I was getting ready to leave my house, I got a text from an actor who had worked on a previous episode of the project I was casting, a woman whom I’ve only texted a few times very briefly, and only for work related reasons. This text told me, in part: “Let go of the old even if it’s an old you and manifest exactly what you require of life.” I realized that in the process of becoming a casting associate, I had put up certain walls and anxieties that helped me survive the work, but they necessarily kept me from being a fully dedicated artist and actor. In casting work, you are always on guard. Vulnerability to the extent that one must cultivate it in order to be a good actor is a danger to the integrity of casting work. That’s as it should be. But I realized that to be the actor I wanted to be and knew I could become, I would need the walls to come down. Casting work wouldn’t allow that. There was no way to keep both, and I knew instantly which one I would give up. That scared me -- scared me that I knew so quickly what my sacrifice would be, and that after years of working toward this jumping off point and saying I would leap, that I had finally come up to the edge and would soon be asked to step off the edge and into a big, beautiful, frightening unknown. I covered my face with my hands. I cried. I thanked her so much for the message. I resolved to be watchful, and I waited.

And now we’re here. The picture above is me, today, on the precipice of change. The series I was helping to cast is done filming in a few weeks. Casting is almost complete. In a few days, I’ll be loading a computer into my trunk and wiping down my desk, walking out of that production office in the middle of nowhere for most likely the final time in my life...and already, there are so many feelings. Pride in a job well done. Excitement at what the next chapter holds for me. Unfathomably deep gratitude for the revelations about artistry and life and the importance of our stories. Most important, there is a feeling of setting sail, of moving away from the coast of where I’ve been for so long and charging into unknown waters, spurred along by what feels like a fair wind.

In January, I’m moving to New York. I would be coy and tell you I’m a little nervous, but in reality, I’m elated. I’m thrilled. I made the decision seven years ago that New York was my goal, and I’ve been working to reach this mecca of mine ever since. Some of the greatest teachers, mentors, and inspirations of my life, my intuition tells me, await me there. It is not where I will finish my search, I know -- will I ever finish the search? what do I search for, even? -- but it’s where the search can begin in earnest. It’s a city that’s big enough to hold me at my biggest and brightest. I’ve got a room to rent in Harlem. I’ve registered for my first acting class at the studio where my mentor-in-spirit Uta Hagen was a master teacher for so many years. It’s happening. I’m going, and I’m going to learn how to be an actor. I’m ready to get really good at the thing I love.

Seven years. Shedding old personas. Taking a road most people don’t and will not travel. One thing this passage in my life has taught me (or it seems true to me, at least) is that art is the protective buffer between society and our souls. It shields us from the crushing weight of the world and makes sure we have something to turn to for healing before we’re in danger of breaking. That being the case, I understand why I feel like society is telling me that it’s too late, that I should be doing something more worthwhile with my life, that I shouldn’t move away from my husband or my stable home life, that I should be happy with what I have, and that these are selfish risks not worth taking.

And it is my artist self, newly formed and growing stronger every day, that looks directly in the face of all those fears and says, “Nevertheless...I’m going to try it anyway.”

[amazingjackthefactfinder-blog]

Southern Cut Calamity

Here comes the wave of applause doused with honor and glory. I’d like to say I do this strictly for the sake of spreading quality journalism to the masses but I’d be lying if I did. A portion of me craves the complimentary spotlight that comes with releasing a mouthwatering segment. This news team had broken ground on a gold mine of success. Each press release has been an excavation of a cavern leading to paydirt. Yet a common motif of dread is hovering around each developing accomplishment. When will the bubble pop? A moral question is raised as well upon the idea of one media outlet having enough clout to control the ebb and flow of public opinion. Will the tides eventually turn? I have to accept that my career as a reporter is leaving a mark on society that is permanent as skidmarks in a pair of granny panties. Its Monday now and of course it seems mundane but that’s how most days begin and i can’t discount the potential of more life altering news. I play a tape of an exclusive interview I had with congressman Luther Strange of Alabama. I hear his southern drawl dribble out his cheeks with long pauses as if I were waiting for his words to coagulate and clot into sentences. He talks of his road to Capitol Hill and the sacrifices he has made for the people of his state while being unwavering on his principles. Typical government suit, always overzealous towards the topics of conversation his constituents could care less about while casually duck diving beneath the questions that have any meat on their bones. I stop the tape and rap my fingers against my temple. What to make of all this. There is so much expectation from our listeners, I can’t give them a poppycock edition of 60 minutes. They would burn me at the stake, and I’ve already announced information would be released about the Alabamian senator. I open my web browser and decide to catch the next flight back to Huntsville International Airport where I was greeted not 3 days prior by the men of Luther Strange’s entourage. Something didn’t sit right with me as I left our previous pow wow. Luther’s last name wasn’t the only thing strange about our discussion and at the moment I had no other stories occupying my dossier. At times a reporter must trust his gut and follow intuition when no obvious scandal rears its head. Hours passed and I was experiencing severe jet lag but I arrived nonetheless at our original meeting place, the Huntsville Museum of Art, to investigate as to why the senator would meet in such a public place rather than in his plush office. The curator of the museum was at the door speaking with a group of collectors. Upon this visit I was able to make out his face and recognized him as Sal Gumby from the cover of a recent issue of Artsy People of Alabama. He must know something. Seeking out important leads becomes a sixth sense after you’ve been working the city beats as long as I have. He’s up to something I’m sure of it. I walk past him and nod in his direction, he doesn’t seem to remember me. That was his first mistake. His second was his undoing as he said goodbye to his peers and walked down a a corridor in solitude. The thick shag carpet although tacky made for a near invisible pursuit as I snuck closer and closer to my source. A sharp left was made and I followed mere feet away. That’s when I pounced and hit Mr. Gumby with a jawdropping question in the form of a lead pipe. He was out cold. Actually as i take a closer look I may have cracked his skull with the blunt force trauma of metal and inquisition. “Fuck” I say under my breath, why must I be so cavalier in my opening statements. Yup, he’s bleeding out faster than slit pig. I quickly open my bag and start foraging for the mickey mouse band-aids I know are floating around my pack. I hear a low moan and I worry someone might be alerted. Again with the pipe, the band-aids are a lost cause, and down goes Gumby for the eternal count. Well there goes my only lead. Now I’m stuck in the deep south with the blood of a beloved Art Curator on my hands and it’s getting close to closing time. I’m sure Mrs. Gumby will be expecting him home any minute now. I grab the iPhone from Sal’s pocket and begin to type. “Hello to my beautiful wife. I wish I could make it home for dinner tonight but alas I would like a divorce and never want to see you, the family, or any of our friends again. Please do not look for me and close the museum for good with no hope of anyone else entering. This includes you my newly divorced ex-wife. (That means lock the doors from the outside.) I will mostly remember you for your ability to follow instructions and never question my whereabouts, how fondly I will recall your embodiment of those traits. Please do not let me down or else I will be very disappointed during the pursuit of my new hobby, swinging lead pipes wildly above my head with an apathy towards safety. I will now live out the rest of my life however short it may be doing what I love, and that is I repeat, throwing caution to the wind and violently flailing a lead pipe near my own cranium.” That should clear things up for the wife and give me a way to present any proceeding case to a court jury with a dash of “reasonable doubt”. As i place my trusty bludgeon in the cold lifeless grips of a seemingly innocent art enthusiast I find the keys to his office have fallen on the ground. It seems today is my lucky day after all. I stumble to Gumby’s office still shaken from the recent homicide, but that was expected. I reach out to unlock the door but it pushes open as if it wasn’t locked at all. What do you know, it wasn’t locked. I’m beginning to think murder was a bit over dramatic at this point when i could have simply walked in here alone with little to no supervision. Now that I think of it I don’t even remember seeing security anywhere on the premises. Well it’s the thought that counts they say. I never have been good with idioms and that phrase didn’t seem to fit the situation but it sounded nice to me anyway. I snap out of my internal monologue and my eyes open wide as I am rummaging through Gumby’s desk. Nestled between the countless paperclips and other office supplies, a tuna sandwich and an old edition of a sports illustrated swimsuit magazine I see now what I have been looking for all day. I see a photo of the senator. He is standing next to what looks like a Nazi, a high ranking member of the KKK and none other than actor Paul Reubens, who plays the beloved Pee Wee Herman. In the foreground the senator, Nazi, and Klansman are all smiling giving a thumbs up while burning a manila envelope labeled “List of Cures for Cancer”. In the background Paul Reubens is holding up the “Shocker” symbol spray painting various ethnic slurs on the side of an old folks home. Unsure as to why the art curator had this photo in his possession but happy my off kilter excursion was coming to a close I left the office in comforted silence. I’m chalking this up as a win in my book. I don’t have to go looking for a senator who before today nobody was going to give a shit about and I have dirt on that very same senator who will soon be notorious as the racist nazi sympathizer who hangs out with a surprisingly crass, racist in his own rite, actor Paul Reubens. I can see the headlines now “Shocking Photo Drives Alabama Senator to Resignation and Paul Reubens Fans to Tears: We Did Nazi that Coming”. And just like a revolving door this investigation opens and closes with ease. Unrelated to revolving doors, this investigation also lead to the mysterious disappearance of Art Aficionado Sal Gumby. Alabama mourns the loss of its one artsy fartsy person.

Legal Advisory: Documents of this nature have never been admissible in trial court therefore none of my previous writing shall condemn me to death row or any fine/jail time. Any and all implications of guilt leading to my arrest on the charges of murder, attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon, trespassing, breaking and entering, defiling a tuna sandwich, and/or attempted kidnapping brought about by this non-fiction story are considered faulty in concept and the person/s bringing forth these allegations will be prosecuted under the full extent of the federal and state laws regarding slander.

[taparolepourlamienne]

Please don’t worry that I’m getting ready to lecture you about compassion or other-directedness or all the so-called virtues. 

This is not a matter of virtue. 

It’s a matter of my choosing to do the work of somehow altering or getting free of my natural, hard-wired default setting which is to be deeply and literally self-centered and to see and interpret everything through this lens of self. 

People who can adjust their natural default setting this way are often described as being well-adjusted, which I suggest to you is not an accidental term.

It is extremely difficult to stay alert and attentive, instead of getting hypnotized by the constant monologue inside your own head (may be happening right now). 

Twenty years after my own graduation, I have come gradually to understand that the liberal arts cliché about teaching you how to think is actually shorthand for a much deeper, more serious idea: learning how to think really means learning how to exercise some control over how and what you think.

It means being conscious and aware enough to choose what you pay attention to and to choose how you construct meaning from experience.  

Think of the old cliché about the mind being an excellent servant but a terrible master.

This, like many clichés, so lame and unexciting on the surface, actually expresses a great and terrible truth. 

It is not the least bit coincidental that adults who commit suicide with firearms almost always shoot themselves in the head. 

They shoot the terrible master. 

And the truth is that most of these suicides are actually dead long before they pull the trigger.

Please don’t think that I’m giving you moral advice, or that I’m saying you are supposed to think this way, or that anyone expects you to just automatically do it. 

Because it’s hard. 

It takes will and effort, and if you are like me, some days you won’t be able to do it, or you just flat out won’t want to.

But most days, if you’re aware enough to give yourself a choice, you can choose to look differently at this fat, dead-eyed, over-made-up lady who just screamed at her kid in the checkout line. Maybe she’s not usually like this. Maybe she’s been up three straight nights holding the hand of a husband who is dying of bone cancer. Or maybe this very lady is the low-wage clerk at the motor vehicle department, who just yesterday helped your spouse resolve a horrific, infuriating, red-tape problem through some small act of bureaucratic kindness. 

Of course, none of this is likely, but it’s also not impossible. It just depends what you want to consider. 

If you’re automatically sure that you know what reality is, and you are operating on your default setting, then you, like me, probably won’t consider possibilities that aren’t annoying and miserable.

Worship power, you will end up feeling weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to numb you to your own fear. 

Worship your intellect, being seen as smart, you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. 

But the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they’re evil or sinful, it’s that they’re unconscious. 

They are default settings.

They’re the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that’s what you’re doing.

And the so-called real world will not discourage you from operating on your default settings, because the so-called real world of men and money and power hums merrily along in a pool of fear and anger and frustration and craving and worship of self. 

Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom. The freedom all to be lords of our tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the centre of all creation. 

This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talk about much in the great outside world of wanting and achieving.

The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriad petty, unsexy ways every day.

That is real freedom. 

That is being educated, and understanding how to think. 

The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the rat race, the constant gnawing sense of having had, and lost, some infinite thing.

The real value of a real education [has] almost nothing to do with knowledge, and everything to do with simple awareness; awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, all the time, that we have to keep reminding ourselves over and over:

‘This is water.’

‘This is water.’

It is unimaginably hard to do this, to stay conscious and alive in the adult world day in and day out. 

Which means yet another grand cliché turns out to be true: your education really is the job of a lifetime.

David Foster Wallace 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #78

“why are the children all marching into the desert to die?”

list your three favorite scents. lilac, uhhh and then cinnamon and coffee, maybe? how do you ground yourself or recharge? sleep, go online... comfort food? my #1 is definitely ice cream have you ever been on a laptop inside a vehicle? no while on the road, do you play any road games? not anymore are you scared of semi-trucks? especially when you’re driving next to one? AHHHH YES if you have any pets, do you talk to them in a baby voice?  hell yeah! do you like screamo music? i do not. i want to be able to understand the words. like, they can even be in different languages, i don't care, i just want to understand clear words. what is the relationship between you and the person you last kissed? much to my dismay, there isn't one. if you could change your name what would you change it to? zoey, probably. have you ever tried weed?  no, and i have no desire to. how much effort did you put into your last relationship? way, way, way too much. are you a patient person? NOPE. do you have impulse control? DOUBLE NOPE can you use chopsticks? my tremors would never allow it. do you like the smell of gasoline? NO NO NO NO NONONONONO did you ever live in a house with more than one story? nope what’s your favorite fast food place? bojangle's what's your favorite alcoholic drink? i haven't tried many, but the best thing i've had thus far was a watermelon margarita thing. have you ever given yourself a tattoo? no, and i wouldn't. i'm very serious about the professionalism of my tats. do you ever buy your pet(s) birthday or christmas presents? sure do! can you lick your nose?  nope. can you lick your elbow?  nope. would you rather watch a movie in theater or at home?  defs in theaters. do you still own any vhs tapes? do you ever watch them?  no, mom got rid of them all. what hobby have you always wanted to pick up?  hmmm. crafts. have you ever rolled off your bed in your sleep?  no. have you ever had a penpal?  nope. do you put your shirt on or your pants on first?  pants are you afraid of spiders?  only if they are venomous or have extremely long legs in comparison to their bodies. have you ever been stung by a bee?  i haven't. do you enjoy board games?  no. what do you like on your burgers? (cheese, ketchup, mustard..)  cheese, ketchup, mustard, onion pieces, pickles how much water do you drink each day?  none. do you enjoy mario games? not particularly, but with friends, sure. has the last person you kissed met your father? he has. what’s your favorite breed of dog? akita inus, chow chows, beagles... do you swear in front of your parents?  i'm totally open around my dad, but i usually don't say "fuck" around mom. what would you do if you found out you were pregnant to the last person you kissed?  cry and probably become obsessed with the child's well-being, even while in utero. can you make yourself cry? i can't. what do you tend to drink a lot of? milk have you ever woke up crying from a bad dream? yes, and i once woke up screaming. have you ever had to block anyone online? i've been actively using the internet since dial-up, whatcha think? are you scared of ending up alone? i'm legitimately horrified. are your pets asleep right now, if you have any?  i'm not at home, so idk. have you ever done three or more shots in a row? i've never done shots. favorite undersea creature? dolphins i think, but i also really like jellyfish and whales. seahorses, too. describe the darker side to your personality.  more than anything, i can be viciously jealous. i have an interior savagery, but just barely enough control to contain it. what makes a movie really enjoyable for you? creative, whimsical story and artwork, drama, and relatable characters. favorite type of bird? owls. favorite forest animal? deer! do you think you could ever have an abortion if you unexpectedly turned up pregnant right this second? absolutely not. what is your favorite video game console? why?  ps2 has the best games. do you like vanilla candles?  sure do. how many girlfriends/boyfriends have told you they love you? one, i think. juan might have... have you ever smoked a cigarette? no. who did you last share a taxi with? i've never been in one. do you vape? nope. do you enjoy the arctic monkeys?  i like two songs. where’s your favorite place to shop for clothes?  rebel's market. have you ever seen a mountain in person? i have. have you ever explored somewhere abandoned? i have. there's a shack and old house near my house that friends and i explored when i was younger. we got in trouble lol. have you ever found a four-leaf clover? i discovered a patch of four-leaf clovers the day after my dad left... (: would you rather live in a coastal town or a town closer to the forest? ohhh. can it be in the forest? are you lazy? i am, honestly. regularly burn incense? i used to. i need more sticks... who was your high school crush? i had a few. i was kinda interested in a guy named kyle, i really liked this boy sebastian, but my biggest crush was jason. are you cpr certified? no. who accompanied you to your first concert? mom, nicole, and jason. do you and your friends listen to similar music? depends on the friend. my best friend, no. do you believe in the idea of taking from the rich and giving to the poor? why or why not? no, because who says the rich don't deserve what they've accumulated? do you believe that animals are capable of “human” emotion? why not? it's very obvious that they feel emotion; now are their emotions the same as how we humans feel it, maybe not, but they obviously feel. who do you consider “family?” my mom, dad, ashley, nicole, katie, bobby, misty, a few aunts and uncles and uncles, colleen, chelsea, bradley, and despite having no relationship with him, jason will always be my family. could you sacrifice yourself for someone you barely knew? honestly, no. does the thought of having children scare you? horrifies me. i'd prefer to never imagine pushing a seven-pound human being out of my fucking vagina. xbox or playstation? playstation! have you ever asked someone out? i kinda-sorta initiated the asking out with aaron, but not exactly? when do you want to get married? i see 23 as an ideal marrying age, but there's literally no way that'll happen with me unless j comes back. did you like your middle school life? ACTUALLY fuck that. that's when my anxiety and depression started, and it was just... awkward and uncomfortable. have you ever liked someone you didn’t expect to? yes and no... maybe. like, with jason, i thought to myself, "wow, he's really weird" when i met him, but at the same time, i found myself thinking, "this guy's gonna mean something." what’s your favorite zoo animal? meerkats, on the rare occasion they have them. do you have any plans for tomorrow? skating! :D what’s your favorite part about the fall? the colorful foliage, omg! which scooby-doo character are you most like (scooby, shaggy, daphne, fred, velma, the monster, scrappy?) probably scooby or shaggy. what “group” did you belong to in high school? i resonated/made friends with mostly the goths, emos, metalheads... describe your favorite pair of pj’s. a black pair of pajama pants with a design of harley quinn holding two guns sitting on her knees with "hey, puddin'" written beneath her. i usually wore them when i wanted j's dick honestly lmao. i still wear them tho honestly just 'cuz they're comfortable. if you could have any job in the world, which one would you want? meerkat biologist OR a member of the mythical crew how did you learn to ride a bicycle? my dad taught me. (: have you ever been to a sports game? hockey, yes. have you seen all the shrek movies? no and i cry every night because of it. have you ever finished a whole video game? of course do you know anyone with a pet snake? currently, i don't believe so. your parents split; would you want to live with your mom or dad? they did split, and i live(d) with my mom. how does it make you feel looking at pics with your ex and someone else? i've seen one picture of him with his current girlfriend, and i legitimately wanted to murder the bitch. no exaggeration. have you ever slept in the same bed as your friend? multiple times. what is on your bed right now? well, my own bed is in storage right now to my understanding, but the bed i'm using at colleen's currently just had pillows and blankets. are you someone’s best friend? i am! :D what do you think of when you think of australia? my friend shaylee ever ridden on a roller coaster? no, too scared. what is your birthstone? amethyst is anyone jealous of you? literally no reason to ever be. do any of your friends have children? not any close friends how did you get one of your scars? i scratched the fuck out of my leg. it was overly itchy. honestly, what is your point of a view of a friend who goes for their friend’s exes? consult your friend about it. when was the last time you laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe? when playing "cards against humanity" with colleen, chelsea, and bradley would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum? zoo! do you sleep with a night light? no. do you bite your toenails? nope. what musical artists have you most felt connected to over your lifetime? overall, i feel most connected to otep's lyrics. have you ever gone to the person you like’s best friend to help you out? no. who is the most blunt person that you know? colleen do you think you will be going to sleep soon? i might take a nap. what nervous habits do you have? my eyes dart, i play with/knead my hands, avoid eye contact, etc. when was the last time you were hit on by someone? i'm not sure. what is your ringtones on your cellular? "telescope" by starset do you wear makeup? rarely. do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? nope. what is your pet’s name? the only pet i personally "own" is teddy, a beagle-cocker spaniel mix. do you have any siblings? do you get along? my two immediate siblings are ashley and nicole. what is your favorite color? maroon. what color are your eyes? blue do you like your parents? i love them. how long does it take you to shower? like 8 minutes. is the last person you kissed older than you? by two years name everyone you kissed this year: no one is it awkward when you run into your ex’s? i've never "run into" him. i've seen him once, but it wasn't awkward honestly. have you ever fallen asleep with the last person you kissed? probably hundreds of times... do you change your phone background a lot? nope. think back to your last relationship. was it worth it? yes, it was. has anyone seen you in your underwear, other than mom? yep. do you hate being the first person to start a conversation? sure do. if you had to live off one type of fruit, which would you pick? strawberries what do you usually order from olive garden? spicy shrimp fritas. fucking perfection. how do you like your steak cooked? well done do you know anyone who self-harms? i know people who have, but i certainly hope they still don't. do you have any siblings? what are their names, age, and grade they are in? doing immediate siblings only. ashley: she's 24, i think, and she's graduated. nicole: she's 18 and is a freshman in college. do you know a schizophrenic person? yes. my own half-sister tiffany is a schizophrenic. do you own many pairs of shorts? i don't have any. is there a certain song you like to headbang to?  surprisingly, i don't headbang. is there a band/artist who has strange lyrics but you love them anyway?  rammstein's lyrics are rather different imo did you love playing hide and seek as a kid?  i really did! do you have a favorite font on the computer?  garamond, i assume. have you ever been severely burned?  nope. did you ever dream that you had a baby?  multiple times. what was the weirdest thing you ever saw cross the road?  hm, not sure... do you try clothes on before you buy them? i avoid that shit like the plague, but i guess if i have to. by society's standards, are you attractive? probably not, idk? mostly because i'm fat, so. i do have clear skin though? would you let your kid smoke weed? if i found my child smoking weed, that would probably be the closest i'd ever get to beating their fucking ass, to be frank about it. are you mentally stable? "no" should be the obvious answer. do you think marijuana is safer than alcohol? in some ways, sure. what do you hear right now? "the dope show" by marilyn manson, chelsea talking in her room... have you ever been in an abusive relationship? no. what color is your favorite bra? it's mostly baby pink, but has a black, swirly design on it. which would you rather have, a new puppy or kitten? i'd actually quite enjoy a kitten right now. if you could have one power, what would it be? shape-shifting. would you ever date out of your own race?   yeah. do you still watch movies intended for children?   every now and again. who is your favorite stand-up comedian?   john pinette. what is your strangest phobia?   whale sharks. what is the most pointless movie that you have ever seen?   "the purge."  just the concept of it was so stupid.  i mean, the film was okay, but still pointless. have you ever kissed someone of the same gender as you?   romantically, no. when a bee is coming close to you, do you stand still or run away?   depends on the kind of bee.  ex., wasp, i'm running.  honeybee, it's cool. are you self conscious about wearing a bathing suit?   very, yes. if you had to play one sport for a living, what would it be?   dance. have your parents ever thought you were gay? what happened?   i don't think so, no. what’s the best thing to eat for breakfast?   pancakes are your parents more liberal or conservative?   conservative, mostly, with some liberal views. when was the last time you saw your best friend?   this morning.  i am currently living with her; she's at work atm. how many jobs have you ever had? (including things like babysitting)   two. do you have family meals when it’s someones birthday?   we go out to eat somewhere nice-ish. are you comfortable talking to both your parents about sex and boys?   mom, sure, but i would never discuss sex with dad. have you ever wanted to be a teacher?   not at all. what do you think is overrated?   i don't really call things "overrated."  well-liked things are liked for a reason. what is underrated?   the band otep.  they should really be better known. can spiders jump?   yes, they can. there was a sculpture that was supposed to be displayed for a week in the rockefeller center in nyc of a falling woman - designed as a memorial to those who jumped or fell to their death from the world trade center. it was complained about as grotesque, inappropriate and describe as 'not art.’ what do you think?   who says something grotesque cannot be art?  it was absolutely art and carried with it a heavy message.  it shouldn't have been censored by not showing it. has anyone ever mistaken you for a satanist?   with my wardrobe, probably. what did you see today that was beautiful in an ordinary way?   i saw my best friend. are you dyslexic?   no sir. do you agree with the people who say that everyone is bi-sexual even if they don’t want to admit it?   heard that before, and it's bullshit. if you are the only human on the planet of the apes do you have sex with an ape?   ugh, no. do you believe that black people should get money to make up for their previous enslavement?   ... the fuck is this?  no???  look, i am in no way racist or anything, but there is no reason to pay african americans because of past mistreatment?  like, that shit's done and over with? have you ever tried to write poetry or song lyrics?   poetry, yeah. do you like men who have a sensitive side?   it's like.  mandatory for me. dangly earrings, hoop earrings, simple studs, or no earrings at all?   hmmm, studs. would you ever wear black lipstick? do you know anyone who does?   i do sometimes. do you lecture people about drugs?   if one prompts me too, yes. if you could pick the temperature of the outdoors for the rest of your life, what would it be?   like... 49, maybe? who was the last person to call you babe?   probably colleen, potentially juan. do you have family problems?   yes. were you smiling when you woke up this morning?   who the fuck just wakes up smiling? do you like being in pictures?   while it's great to be included, i only really like it if i'm taking the picture, 'cuz i know how to flatter my face. do you sneak out?   at 21, i can't exactly "sneak out," but when i was a teenager, no, i never did. how would you spend a day at the beach?   in the ocean have you ever experienced altitude sickness?   nope. do you ever make a big deal out of nothing?  only constantly. have you ever written anything on a bathroom stall?  nope. are your hands unsteady?   yes, i have an essential tremor. are you scared of moving on?  FUCKING HORRIFIED. when talking on the phone, do you place it against your left or right ear?   right ear are you scared you’ll get a q-tip stuck inside your ear?   nope. do you use index cards to help you prepare for tests?   i never did. what’s your favorite flavor of sunflower seeds?   i don't like sunflower seeds. what's currently on your mind?   meh.  i feel... alone and unaccomplished.  i just found out a veeery old friend of mine is moving out with her girlfriend soon, and.  idk.  seeing her grow up like that makes me jealous.  i miss having another half, okay? what’s your favorite hairstyle on a guy?   kill me pls, bc i like emo/scene hair the most ;-; what color is your hairbrush?   hot pink have you ever dated someone with curly hair?   not full-blown curly, no.  very few of j's tips would be curly, but his hair overall was more wavy. how many of the people you’ve kissed have had brown eyes?   one. what’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said to the person you like?   "i love you." are you currently in a “i wouldn’t mind if i lost 50 pounds” kind of mood?   losing 50 pounds would honestly be spectacular. are your parents religious?   yeah. would you like to have twins?   fuck no. if your best friend liked your last ex, what would you do?   oh, i'd tell her off. want to have kids before you’re 30?   it'd be ideal. has someone ever made a promise to you and broke it?   sure has. would you ever date anyone covered in tattoos?   sure. do you feel more comfortable with a male or female doctor/nurse?   female. are you interested in more than one person at the moment?   nope.

[jobsearchtips02]

47 photos of Donald Trump’s incomparable life on his 74th birthday

President Donald Trump.

Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images.

Businessman-turned-president Donald Trump celebrates his 74 th birthday on June 14.

The hotel magnate became a family name through his truth program, “The Apprentice.”

Now in the fourth year of his presidential term and marketing for his second, here’s a look back at Trump’s life, in images.

Visit BusinessInsider.com for more stories.

President Donald Trump turned 74 on Sunday. He is the oldest president to take office, a record formerly held by President Ronald Reagan, who was 73- years-old at the time of his election to a 2nd term.

As Trump cruises through the fourth year of his first governmental term, he is actively getting ready for the 2020 governmental election

Here is a look at the president’s life journey, from the New York Military Academy to the Oval Office.

As a teen, the president was enrolled at the New york city Military Academy where he briefly served as a captain throughout his senior year.

Donald Trump in the New York Military college’s 1964 yearbook.

Company Expert through Classmates.

Source: Washington Post

He graduated from Wharton School of Financing at the University of Pennsylvania with a bachelor’s in economics in1968 He then began his career at his dad’s property development company, E. Trump & Boy.

Donald Trump with his father, Fred, left, at his graduation from the Wharton School of Finance.

Donald Trump/Facebook.

As somebody who enjoys the art of negotiation, Trump was able to negotiate New York City to supply a 40- year tax reduction for the Grand Hyatt Hotel– the first ever given to a business home.

Gov. Hugh Carey, accompanied by Trump, points to an artist’s conception of the hotel that will be constructed on the website of the previous Commodore Hotel on June 28,1978

AP.

Source: The Trump Company

An early win was when Trump used to remodel shabby areas in requirement, such as a long-closed ice-skating rink, at no revenue to himself, after the city’s restoration effort went through 5 years of delays and more than double the original expense price quote.

Here, Donald Trump positions with New York City’s Parks Commissioner, Henry Stern, holding a set of ice skates that are planned for use at the Wollman Rink in Central Park on August 7,1986

Paul Burnett/AP.

Source: AP

Trump owns a fleet of luxury helicopters, and a private plane that was often a background at his 2016 governmental campaign occasions.

Donald Trump in front of one of 3 Sikorsky helicopters at the Port Authority’s West 30 Street heliport on March 22,1988

AP Photo/Wilbur Funches.

Trump likewise enjoys tennis– he even played a round, wearing his standard suit, versus the famous Serena Williams.

Donald Trump talks with his former other half, Ivana Trump, during the guys’s final at the US Open.

Mike Blake/Reuters.

Trump had three kids with Ivana: Donald Jr., Ivanka, and Eric.

Household picture of, from left, socialite Ivana Trump, her kid Eric Trump, her previous hubby business person Donald Trump, and her child Ivanka Trump as they sit at a table at the Mar-a-Lago estate, Palm Beach, Florida,1998

Davidoff Studios/Getty Images.

He divorced Ivana in a public split in 1992, and married Marla Maples in 1993.

Donald Trump sees as his ex-wife, Marla Maples, gets a kiss from Earl Sinclair of TELEVISION’s “Dinosaurs” during lunch at the Trump Plaza Hotel on November 2,1992

Henry Ray Abrams/Reuters.

Trump and Marla had one daughter, Tiffany, in 1993.

Delighted moms and dads Marla Maples, left, and Donald Trump welcome journalism with their newborn child, Tiffany, as they leave St. Mary’s Health center in West Palm Beach, Fla., on Thurs., Oct. 14,1993

Hans Deryk/AP.

As a self-proclaimed family man, Trump attended many public events and tv shows with his household over the years.

Donald Trump and his child, Ivanka, peek over the crowd as they take in a tennis match throughout the United States Open in New York City.

Roh Frehm/AP.

Source: Oprah

Trump initially began revealing indications of interest for a possible quote for the US presidency with the development of a governmental exploratory committee ahead of the 2000 election.

Donald Trump talks with host Larry King after taping a section of King’s CNN talk program in New York.

Reuters.

Source: Reuters

To check the political waters, the possible Reform Party governmental candidate took a trip to a number of locations to attend to party leaders.

Donald Trump makes an appearance for the media atop a Beverly Hills, California, hotel on December 6,1999

Chris Pizzello/AP.

Source: AP

In 2005, Donald Trump married fashion designer and design Melania Trump.

Donald Trump and Melania Trump leave Hollinger International’s annual meeting at the Metropolitan Club in New York on May 22,2003

Peter Morgan/Reuters.

Source: PolitiFact

The 2 had one boy, Barron, in 2006.

Donald Trump, Barron Trump and Melania Trump leave Trump Towers to participate in the 16 th Annual Bunny Hop at FAO Schwartz to benefit the Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center March 13, 2007 in New York City City.

Peter Kramer/Getty Images/for MSKCC.

As no complete stranger to the political procedure, Trump was even familiarized with members of the judicial branch. Here he is welcoming Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas at the Daytona 500.

United States Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas, working as the grand marshal for the Daytona 500, talks to Donald Trump on the starting grid at the Daytona International Speedway.

Reuters.

He also ended up being the owner of the notorious Miss Universe beauty pageant for many years.

Donald Trump and Miss Connecticut, Erin Brady, present onstage after Brady won the 2013 Miss USA pageant.

AP Photo/Jeff Bottari, File.

A few of the president’s jobs, like Trump University, were stuck in suits that Trump lost or needed to settle. Others he may have made a profit on, however stated personal bankruptcy, and partners he dealt with implicated him of not paying them.

Marita Luna (C) and Miriam Ramos (2nd R) joins other union members from UNITE HERE Regional 54 as they rally outside the Trump Taj Mahal Casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey on October 24,2014

Reuters.

Read more: The New York Times rates 61 of Donald Trump’s company deals, concludes 40%stopped working

In June 2015, Trump famously introduced his governmental project by boiling down an escalator in Trump Tower.

Donald Trump.

Christopher Gregory/Getty Images.

As the fog of the political battlefield cleared on the Republican side, Trump prepared to handle presumptive Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton.

Donald Trump looks out at the construction site of his 92- story tower along the Chicago river during a see to his Chicago offices on April 10,2006 Trump acknowledged that since of security issues after the occasions of September 11, he abandoned prepare for it to be the world’s tallest building at 150 stories.

Charles Rex Arbogast/AP.

Trump made his final interest citizens in swing-states as the controversial project drew to a close.

Donald Trump projects in New Hampshire.

Scott Eisen/Getty Images.

While Trump won the electoral votes needed to protect the presidency, he lost the popular vote to Hillary Clinton by almost 3 million votes.

Donald Trump in New york city on election night.

Joe Raedle/Getty Images.

Source: The New York City Times

Taking his oath of office on January 20, 2017, Trump officially became the 45 th President of the United States.

Supreme Court Justice John Roberts (2L) administers the oath of workplace to President Donald Trump (L) as his spouse Melania Trump holds the Bible and boy Barron Trump searches, on the West Front of the US Capitol.

Drew Angerer/Getty Images.

After taking workplace, Trump’s administration faltered under a series of scandals and mistakes. Among these was his firing of FBI director James Comey, who was leading an examination into Russia’s meddling in the United States election.

President Donald Trump (L) shakes hands with James Comey, then-director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, during an Inaugural Law Enforcement Officers and First Responders Reception in the Blue Space of the White House on January 22, 2017 in Washington, DC.

Andrew Harrer-Pool/Getty.

The special counsel Robert Mueller was selected to oversee the examination. Almost 2 years later, he closed the probe in May 2019– after charging several of Trump’s relate to criminal offenses, concluding Russia interfered in the 2016 election to benefit Trump, and detailing a number of circumstances that the president stopped working at obstructing justice.

President Trump and unique counsel Robert S. Mueller III.

Jabin Botsford/The Washington Post by means of Getty Images; Win McNamee/Getty Images.

Find Out More: Mueller describes key Trump-Russia contacts and prospective circumstances of blockage of justice in final report

As a business owner who prides himself as a seasoned dealmaker, Trump has had combined success engaging with world leaders as president. With some, he’s had sparkling relationships. With others, things have actually been more frosty.

Thomson Reuters.

As the commander-in-chief of the militaries, Trump observed the sacrifices made by US service members on Memorial Day.

President Donald Trump lays flowers on the grave of Secretary of Homeland Security John Kelly’s kid at Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington, Virginia. United States Marine Corps Lt. Robert Kelly was killed in 2010 while leading a patrol in Afghanistan.

Aaron P. Bernstein/Getty Images.

At his very first presidential college start, Trump attended to the finishing class of Liberty University. “What imprint will you leave in the sands of history?” he asked. “What will future Americans state we performed in our quick time right here in the world? Did we take risks? Did we dare to defy expectations? Did we challenge accepted knowledge and take on established systems? I think I did, but we all did and we’re all doing it.”

Getty Images/Chip Somodevilla.

Source: TIME

Trump has actually frequently received criticism throughout his time in office, like when he threw paper towels into a crowd in Puerto Rico after Cyclone Maria damaged the region.

Trump tosses rolls of paper towels like basketballs to victims of Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico.

Evan Vucci/AP.

Other times in his presidency have actually been more lighthearted. On the White House front lawn, Trump and the very first woman command the Easter egg roll, one of many holiday traditions.

President Donald Trump, joined by the Easter Bunny and very first girl Melania Trump, speaks from the Truman Terrace of he White Home in Washington, Monday, April 2, 2018, during the annual White Home Easter Egg Roll.

Carolyn Kaster/AP.

In a few of the more easy going moments, Trump has amused athletic champions at the White House with his preferred products from lunch counter.

With junk food meals from Domino’s, Wendy’s, McDonald’s, and Burger King, Trump entertains the Clemson Tigers football team after their 2018 playoffs championship game win.

Susan Walsh/AP.

His presidency has actually witnessed several mass shootings including ones at the Las Vegas Strip, at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, and at Pulse Nightclub in Orlando, Florida. Trump has actually fiercely defended the Second Amendment.

Thomas Gunderson fights his fresh gunshot wound to the leg to stand and shake Trump’s hand.

Thomas Gunderson through Facebook.

Source: Organisation Insider

The Trumps joined the living presidents and very first women to attend the funeral service of previous President George H.W. Bush in December 2018.

U.S. President Donald Trump, very first lady Melania Trump, former President Barack Obama, Michelle Obama, former President Bill Clinton, former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, and previous President Jimmy Carter listen as previous Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney speaks throughout a State Funeral at the National Cathedral, Wednesday, Dec. 5, 2018, in Washington, for previous President George H.W. Bush.

Alex Brandon/Pool by means of REUTERS.

Trump effectively saw Justice Brett Kavanaugh validated the Supreme Court regardless of the debate surrounding his consultation and a heated verification hearing in the Senate. The president ushered in 2 conservative justices, the other being Neil Gorsuch.

President Donald Trump shakes hands with Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh, prior to a ceremonial swearing-in in the East Space of the White House in Washington, Monday, Oct. 8,2018

Susan Walsh/AP.

Source: Service Insider

The president was impeached by the House of Representatives on December 18, 2019, on charges of abusing his power and blocking Congress. The inquiry was stimulated after a whistleblower submitted a report over a call the president held with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky in July2019 Trump is the 3rd president to be impeached in US history.

President Donald Trump resolves his impeachment during a Merry Christmas Rally at the Kellogg Arena on December 18, 2019 in Fight Creek, Michigan. While Trump spoke at the rally your home of Representatives voted to impeach the president, making Trump just the third president in U.S. history to be impeached.

Scott Olson/Getty Images.

Source: Service Insider

Things turned out alright for the president, nevertheless, when he was acquitted by the Republican-controlled Senate on February 5 by a vote of 52-48 Utah Sen. Mitt Romney was the only Republican to vote to found guilty the president.

President Donald Trump speaks in the East Space of the White Home, Thursday, Feb. 6, 2020, in Washington.

AP Picture/ Evan Vucci.

Source: Service Insider

The Trump Administration was entrusted with managing the COVID-19 pandemic, which initially reached the United States in January. The president has actually gotten sharp criticism for his administration’s handling of the pandemic.

President Donald J. Trump delivers remarks Tuesday, May 5, 2020, at Honeywell International Inc. in Phoenix.

Authorities White Home Photo by Shealah Craighead.

Source: Company Insider

At a press conference in June, Trump threatened to release the military to end nationwide discontent. A crowd of serene protesters was tear-gassed exterior of the White House to make method for Trump to stroll to a close-by church for a photo-op.

United States President Donald Trump holds a Bible while visiting St. John’s Church throughout from the White House after the area was cleared of people protesting the death of George Floyd June 1, 2020, in Washington, DC.

BRENDAN SMIALOWSKI/AFP through Getty Images).

Source: Company Insider

As Trump celebrates his 74 th birthday, there are less than 5 months until the 2020 basic election. Citizens will decide whether to provide him another 4 years in the Oval Workplace. The president is supposedly planning to resume his project rallies, which have actually been stopped briefly due to COVID-19

President Donald Trump in the Oval Workplace.

Mandel Ngan/AFP/Getty Images.

Source: Organisation Expert

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[boisentertainment]

Dark Lane Demo Tapes HD Review

Cover Art To “Dark Lane Demo Tapes”

“I’m losing enough sleep

dealing with envy and the news that they send for me 

got the block in a frenzy”

–Deep Pockets

Drake starts off Dark Lane Demo Tapes doing what he does best, effortlessly floating on the intro “Deep Pockets“, another collaboration accompanied by producer Noah “40” Shebib. Self-reflecting and reminiscing on adolescent aspirations before the transition of becoming one of the greatest artists of all time.

Drake breaking the record for Most Wins in one night at the 2017 Billboard Music Awards

Drake has been navigating through uncharted territory flawlessly. Proving this point yet again with his release of “Toosie Slide”. Drake’s 3rd single to debut at #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 Chart making him the first male in history to achieve this milestone.

“500 mill and I’ll fall back in the six, 

finally give you n**** the space you need to exist”

-When To Say When

*Talk To em Drizzy* 

Drake follows up with two pre-released tracks, “When To Say When” & “Chicago Freestyle”. Jam packed with bars, a sample from “Song Cry” by Jay-Z (one of my all time favorite Hov songs) on “When To Say When”, and a nostalgic Eminem cadence reference on “Chicago Freestyle”.

You really love to see Drizzy remind everyone on “When To Say When” that his pen still outmatches all who oppose. Re-asserting his dominance as if it was ever in question. Subtle reminders like the bars above are what keep Drake and his competition completely separated. 

“Two-thirty, baby, won’t you meet me by The Bean?

Too early, maybe later you can show me things

You know what it is whenever I visit

Windy city, she blowin’ me kisses, no

Thirty degrees, way too cold, so hold me tight

Will I see you at the show tonight?”

Will I see you at the show tonight?”

-Chicago Freestyle

Giveon, a California native sings of the windy city as Drake gets ready to paint a picture of a night through his perception. From scrolling through his contacts of women’s names that are seemingly categorized by area code, to eventually just letting his boi Chubbs pick a girl out for him as if picking up women is as easy as shopping! Drake brilliantly segways into a memory that you forgot you had by referencing a cadence used in Eminem’s “Superman” released in 2002.

Eminem and Drake. Picture: Instagram

Don’t be fooled by the feature credit of Chris Brown….we didn’t get another “No Guidance” summer anthem….

Just a few background vocals from the R&B legend were enough to get his name on the project tracklist. Meanwhile Burna Boy is still waiting for his credits since More Life but that’s a conversation for another day. “Not You Too” Featuring Chris Brown is the first song on the project that I really don’t care for. It’s disappointing when you see a Drake and Chris Brown collaboration and it doesn’t slap..

What A Time To Be Alive is in my Top 3 favorite duo albums of all time. Whenever I see a Drake and Future collab I automatically get excited. Previously leaked, “Desires” is everything you want in a slower more laid back vibe from these two. The hook is addicting. Future’s verse is versatile with flows. His energy matches perfectly and his lyrics have SUBSTANCE. Listen to it carefully.

Photo From Future Featuring Drake “Life Is Good”

Drake has this ability to be able to sing 90% of the song, take the other 10%, completely spazz, and musically still have it make sense. These are the moments in songs like “Desires” and “Redemption” that turn slow R&B type vibe songs into a completely different entity within itself. Now all of a sudden you’re turning up and talking your sh*t instead of staring at the ceiling crying yourself to sleep. 

When I hear “Time Flies” I automatically think of Tik Tok. I don’t know why but if it blows up on Tik Tok you heard it here first! Honestly for me this, is another skip it and forget it type of song, I really hope it doesn’t go viral.

The first forty-five seconds is the only part of the song that kept my attention. Otherwise the rest is forgettable or just too similar to music that he’s already done thus not really elevating his ability here. During a full listen to the song I’m 100% paying attention during the first forty-five seconds. After that my attention doesn’t come back until he starts saying “Im Sorry”.

Don’t worry Drizzy I forgive you. 

“If he talkin’ out his head, then it’s off with it, yeah

Boardin’ Air Drake, then we takin’ off in it, yeah”

-Landed

Luckily, “Time Flies” is followed by a HEATER. Three hooks and three verses of aggressive, yet relaxed, reckless bars knowing there isn’t a consequence for you when you’re at the top. “Landed” is a slick talk, mean face, making breakfast with the speaker on 10 with the neighbors calling the cops while you’re trying to get hype for the day joint.

I wanna stop writing this review, get in my car, windows down, put this song on max volume and mean mug old people walking their dog in the suburbs for the rest of the day.

At first listen I was super excited about “D4L”. The production from Southside is out of this world. I do feel like it’s lacking a certain element. It’s easy to fall in love with a song featuring Drake, Future, and Young Thug, with this type of production. To me it just doesn’t sound organic. It sounds like it was thrown together rather than collectively created.

Honestly, I wish Drake and Future left Young Thug out of it, sat down together and created a dope record. Kind of wasted a great instrumental. 

To be blunt, I’m just not impressed with “Pain 1993”. It could be the fact that I’m not the biggest Playboi Carti fan, or it could be just because the song’s just not that interesting. I’ve replayed “Pain 1993” numerous times searching for something with depth or meaning because that, accompanied with creative cadences and complex bars, is the reason why I love Drake’s music. This didn’t do it for me. 

The intro to “Losses” is amazing. The song starts with a clip of Drake’s father Dennis Graham previewing a song Dennis had been working on recently. It ends with Dennis saying something like, “This songs about family, if anyone feel anyway about it I don’t give a f***”, classic.

It’s funny how you can listen to any Drake project and stumble upon a song that you personally aren’t really feeling. The next song is the exact song you’re looking for. Self-reflection is my favorite type of Drake song because the untouchable becomes relatable and humbled.

The second verse of “Losses” touches on Drake’s motivation on why he does what he does, “I do it for the Grahams not the Gram”. Then goes into depth about his sacrifices and choices that he’s made over the years and defends his reasoning behind them. 

“I did it by being myself with no dramatic acting

I couldn’t sit around and wait, I had to have it happen

Lost you to the game, I gotta face that

Really think I lost you like a ways back”

-Losses

Drakes starts off “From Florida With Love” paying homage to the late Static Major who was well known for his appearance on Lil Wayne’s “Lollipop”. Otherwise the song is a dope story about Wayne showing Drake “Lollipop” back in 2008 on a tour bus with Kobe Bryant. (RIP) Then the story continues with Drake getting robbed for his chain and how that lesson stuck with him for life. Further justifying his reasoning for his mentality and how he handles certain situations. 

“From that day I never touched the road without a (Plugg)

Ayy, from that day I never saw the point in talkin’ tough (Nah)

Hasn’t happened since, I guess you n***** know what’s up (Yup)

Yeah, haven’t seen the 6ix in like a month (6ix)

F*** that, I’m back, baby, where the love? (Love)”

– From Florida With Love

“VIRAL. MOVIE.”

Love to see Drake on some, what I define as, “murder music”. Type of music that just makes you wanna fight anybody, anytime… Drake absolutely BODIES the first verse but it’s a mere alley oop to Fivio Foriegn.

Fivio Foriegn sounds like he’s right at home on this one. His delivery is in your face, lyrics are gritty, his aggression is on another level. My only take back is Sosa Geek’s verse just feels, unnecessary. Or maybe I just really wish Pop Smoke was alive to clean this one up RIP. 

The final song on the project “War” was released around Christmas time 2019. The best part of this being the outro to the project is only that we can stream this song now. Despite being released months in advance it only became available on streaming services with this release.

War is a song that is being recognized as “UK Drill” which, obviously, was created in the United Kingdom. This is just another example of how Drake can travel in and out of different genres and subgenres immaculately.  

Conclusion

Overall the project is supposed to be perceived as a “mixtape” rather than an “album”. Drake is set to release a brand new studio album later this year. As a whole I enjoy the project, I’m trying to shy away from relating it to other albums because it technically isn’t an album. Dark Lane Demo Tape isn’t game changing, but it will hold the world over until the real album drops.

What was your favorite song on “Dark Lane Demo Tape”?

Tell me what you guys think in the comments below! 

Thank you for reading my “Dark Lane Demo Mixtape”  HD review. If you enjoyed this post check out boisandbartalk.com for more content from the bois! 

Love, 

Kev Clark HD

[flapperfromthefuture]

Michael, what have you done?

That’s what I keep asking him in my head. Because in my head, Michael and I have been friends my whole life. In my inner life’s landscape, he is as natural and enduring as Mickey Mouse or Winnie the Pooh or any person I’ve known so long I can’t remember ever meeting them. No one ever told me who Michael Jackson was. He was just always there.

You have to understand, Michael was the first music I ever heard. My mom listened to one tape, and one tape only, while she was pregnant with me, and that was Thriller.

The first sounds I ever heard in this world were my mother’s heartbeat, my parents’ voices, and Michael singing about monsters. How he was going to protect us from them. Ignore his glowing eyes and the chill in his voice as he says “I’m not like other guys.”

Was he daring us to see him the entire time?

Wade Robson says that Michael began his grooming process long before he or James Safechuck ever met him, because Michael groomed the entire world.

What chance did one little boy have against him? Or two little boys, or three or four or perhaps more—no, definitely more?

What chance did any of us have?

You have to understand, I was a child when Michael was everything. Everyone in the world loved him—the biggest stars right now have barely an ember of his star power.

Even E.T. and Kermit were stoked to meet him. Fred Astaire was in awe of his dancing. Princesses and presidents bowed down to him. When everyone from luminaries to little kids treats you like a god, what hope do you have of staying human?

One day, we were dancing to Black or White in the living room at my friend’s house. My friend abruptly stopped dancing, ran to his mother in the kitchen and said, “Mom! If Dad dies, will you marry Michael Jackson?”

His mom laughed and said, “Sure, why not?” And my friend bopped happily back to his place in front of the altar to our hero and we danced to his song.

We were six.

Only now do I realize that he made that video—as a man in his 30s—with cameos from multiple children, including the most popular child star since Shirley Temple, the cartoon characters from every kid’s favorite TV show, and a child-friendly message of “It doesn’t matter what color your skin is! We can all dance together and turn into panthers!” rather than attempt a bolder, more artistically complex statement befitting someone of his talent and experience. Janelle Monae is the same age now and she’s been writing songs that run circles around Michael for years.

Did he ever truly care about his art? Or was it all calculated to appeal to children? To get him access to children?

One day, I was riding along in my babysitter’s car, listening to the Dangerous album. She knew everything about music. So she knew everything about Michael. She had Bad and Thriller ready for action, right in the front seat. I remember so clearly holding the Bad CD in one little hand, and Thriller in the other, and realizing for the first time, “He looks different.” But I never thought he looked like a different person. Even though his hair, his nose, his skin had completely changed, I could see the same soul across both faces.

Michael was just Michael. I’d known him for all seven years of my life, as long as I’d known anybody. Sure, I didn’t really know him, but that didn’t matter. I forgot about it a second later. It wasn’t worth thinking too hard about. Never even asked my babysitter to explain it, and I asked her to explain everything.

There was a song on Dangerous about a little girl who is murdered by an abusive guardian. Michael’s voice was so vivid and tender, even as he sang about the blood in the little girl’s hair. That song haunted me. I asked my babysitter to play it again and again.

I knew that children could be hurt by adults. When I was little, we were taught to be afraid of strangers and not walk anywhere by ourselves and never answer the door unless an adult was home. It was horrific and impossible to understand but always a lurking possibility that adults could hurt you. And I was glad that Michael was telling people about this.

Michael really cared about children, I thought. After all, he was friends with so many.

Wade was 5 when he won a dance contest in Australia, and first prize for being the best mini-Michael was to meet Michael himself. James was cast in a commercial at 9, and then after a camera crew came to his house to film an “audition tape” in his bedroom (for reasons never made clear to his mother, but she didn’t seem to mind), he was invited to join the Bad tour, and dance with Michael on stage every night.

Watching this little boy bound on stage, in front of thousands of screaming fans, and dance with all the confidence and joy in the world, as his shattered adult self wistfully narrates how much fun he had, made me cry for both of them.

Michael took all these luminous children and turned them into broken adults.

Was it some way of turning them into mini-Michaels forever?

What were you thinking, Michael?

When Michael died, I cried for him. I’ve loved his music since before I knew what music was. I’ve spent hours watching his videos, documentaries, concerts. I’ve obsessed over his spins, his steps, the way he winks in Smooth Criminal, the way he snaps his fingers in the The Way You Make Me Feel.  He’d gotten me through bad days at school, stress and sadness, a secret friend in my ear always eager to cheer me up. When my sister had to have cardiac surgery as a teenager, I spent twelve hours in the waiting area reading an 832-page biography on Michael. The only thing big enough to distract me from absolute crushing anxiety was him.

Stella and I got Mexican food and watched his funeral live on CNN. I cried for his children. They’ll never get to truly know him, I thought.

Now I have to hope that he died before either of his sons reached his target age range.

After he died, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. What he could have accomplished if it weren’t for all the drama dragging him down in the last half of his life.

What he would’ve looked like if he’d been able to stand his own face.

What he could have done if he’d just gotten a good therapist and cut ties with his family and the hangers-on who kept turning on him for a payout.

Oh, yes, I believed that lie too. I mean, it had been fed to me since I was eight. Of course there are people out there who will lie that the worst crime has been committed against their child and willfully drag that child through the legal system and the 24/7 media spotlight and a lifetime of “Hey, weren’t you that kid . . .” just for a shot at a few bucks.

That makes total sense.

Why did it ever make sense?

After he died, I spent hours watching old videos and interviews and long story short, I took 255 screenshots and saved them to a file on my computer. I never looked at them again, so I don’t know why I needed to save them.

It started out as just wanting to find a good picture of him smiling—really smiling, not just posing or performing, but holding a genuine, human smile. Turned out, that was hard to find.

How sad, I thought. For all of his money and fame and accomplishments, he knew such little real happiness in his life. He always had to be “on.” He was so lonely, with no one who ever loved him for himself, but that was his sacrifice to make us all happy.

That’s what he told us.

Those boys loved him. Those boys still love him. James says that he feels guilty, still, for letting Michael down.

Everyone let James down, but no, he blames himself. That’s what Michael trained him to do. That’s what this abuse does to you. It corrupts the very wiring of your brain.

Wade says that for him to understand that he was abused meant questioning everything that had ever happened to him from the age of 5, from his love of dance to the break-up of his family to his livelihood as an adult.  It takes decades to understand and even longer to accept that your whole childhood was a lie.

“Michael was good. That was all that existed in my mind,” he says.

Michael willfully destroyed Wade’s childhood and his family. And Wade still loved him. So many people still love him. But they don’t matter. What matters is that Wade and James are telling the truth. And people are listening. We’ve lost our friend, for real this time—because not even death could truly take him, not when his music plays somewhere every minute—and we have to accept, at long last, that what we felt for him was genuine, but he never was.

I just deleted my file of Michael’s pictures. I went through them all first, one by one, but I never found that human smile. Just hundreds of shifting masks and hollow eyes with all the glow extinguished.

  My Friend Michael the Monster Michael, what have you done? That's what I keep asking him in my head. Because in my head, Michael and I have been friends my whole life.