#this man is not only contradictory but also in deep DEEP denial

[olasketches]

me and like two other sukuna stans making posts about how miserable he is

[kuriipi]

I need you guys to stop lying and pretending like all Lanthimos' movies are some form of high art.

The guy is literally every greek film bro that went to cinema school.

I do believe he genuinely believes he is revolutionising and combining the greek mythos with modern philosophical ideas. A harsh critic of the fickle and contradictory human nature. But that's where the problem mostly lies. He's not in the slightest bit subtle.

His earlier stuff is seriously just a bunch of pretentious one liners masked as some big profound truth.

"oh you don't like a killing of a sacred deer bcs you don't get the original myth" like no. I get it. And I also know that the greek myth wasn't really a much about divine punishment as it was about facing the reality of your actions. Agamemnon didn't want to sacrifice his daughter to stop the punishment that fell upon them all, after he had killed the sacred deer. He is forced to do it after outside pressure, forced to move past his denial and recognize that it is his only way of atonement. And then the gods still ultimately decide to save Ifigenia because after all she was faultless in all this.

Making "the killing" a medical malpractice is honestly brilliant. Agamemnon hadn't known it was Artemis' sacred deer that he had killed. He only found out after his punishment had already begun. Colin's character hadn't meant to kill the man either, hadn't known of his identity either. But this is as far as the briliance goes.

It is a deeply dark story about a man's desperate attempt to escape fate, to find a loophole, but ultimately it falls flat cause there is not an ounce of sympathy for the characters. You can't feel anything for them or their struggle because they are , intentionally, written so uncannily. Most if not all of Lanthimos' characters really lack the human element.

And although I get the thought and it really does work for a story on human connections like 'the lobster ". The unnatural and completely "un-human" way the characters are portrait adds more layer, a greater punch. Honestly it's extremely well fitted and executed. But for "the killing of a sacred deer" a story whose point really is about the despair, the cruelty of actions and events one is far too powerless to prevent it's...well I think it's a pretty terrible execution.

"you don't like the lobster because you simply can't see the point" Yes it's about society, everything is, it's about forced intimacy, the fear of loneliness, societal pressure and they way we would rather lie to ourselves and our potential partner if it meant we won't be alone. It's about dating for the sake of dating, about children being reduced to nothing more that accessories. About the reactionary solitude, the loners being just as cruel as the hotel enforcing the same strict rules but at the opposite direction. (It doesn't even matter if that is the actual point of the movie because if I talk long enough with enough buzzwords, throw enough ideas at the wall, you'll believe I know exactly what I'm taking about.)

And it's still not really that good.

The premise falls flat. The macabre aspect of being turned into an animal, if you fail at forming a connection, the horrifying depersonalisation, dehumanising the characters is hardly explored.

Ok fine, it was just the premise, just to set the scene (arguably it's the most interesting part of the story, but I digress.)

It's all about human nature. Yes, but it's nothing more than a cynics caricature of it.

But you see the loners are treated like animals but we see how they function and enjoy mundane things like shampoo and going to the mall, and are actually human. Yes me playing with my barbies at 10 had more depth than that. On other news water is wet.

The humans are complex, and actually human and also just as bad as the other humans isn't deep enough of a point to make me watch 2 hours of a stagnant film, and endure like five separate dialogs about ass fucking and masturbation. And how you need a partner to protect you from being sexualy assaulted (like from whom, if that's the case why not just simply turn the entire male population into animals, they seem to have ways of procuring children out of thin air so that doesn't seem to be a problem)

"You can't ask things like that. It's about philosophy and human nature not mechanics plot holes" yes but they're still part of a rather drawn out movie.. if he didn't want me to comment on the plot wholes he should've made the film one hour shorter and avoided them all together.

Like I'll be honest what annoys me the most in his films is the way he forces you to watch these scenes that can only be described as pretentious if not outright bad, that are so meticulously woven into the story. How deep how profound all sex is rape, humanity is cruel and uncaring, detachment is the bain of our modern society. I'm going to add 50 one liners about ass fucking because then it's just about sex, depersonalised. It's really not deep at all.

Like I'm so sorry that not wanting to watch Colin Farrel fuck a woman cosplaying as a corpse multiple times in a movie makes me unappreciative of high cinema. But I guess it is what it is.

(That said, his newer stuff is getting better at keeping up the engagement and evoking more sympathy for the characters. There is far more space to connect to them. The ending of "The favourite" let me feel the despair, the hopeless and absolutely miserable situation the characters found themselves in at the end of the movie.)

[aminiatureworld]

Honesty

Characters: Kaeya, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,830

Warnings: None

Premise: Some habits just turn bad over time, and not matter how much we try they can be terribly difficult to stop.

In which Kaeya keeps to himself.

Author’s Note: This was requested by a lovely anon! I thank you once more, and I hope that this was as you envisioned it. Also didn’t expect this to be so incredibly long but I hope that’s not unwelcome!

Kaeya is one of my favorite characters to write, but I also find him one of the hardest as well. He’s very good at slipping through your grasp, and it can be hard to convey such an outwardly complex and flirtatious character without making him a cardboard cutout. But it’s also incredibly gratifying when you think you’ve done it well. I hope this is one of the times.

Non bulleted pointed version on Ao3

It wasn’t that Kaeya wasn’t used to attention. It was simply that he wasn’t used to your attention.

I mean Kaeya was hardly the most innocent man in Monstadt; almost everyone spoke of the handsome and slightly ill-behaved cavalry captain. Kaeya certainly did nothing to discourage the talk, or the flirting, not when it was so fun. It felt good to be looked at for reasons, well if not positive at least they weren’t in the same league as the notoriety he’d picked up otherwise. Disapproving citizens were certainly better than a disapproving brother, especially since said brother had a habit of parroting Kaeya’s darkest thoughts.

Of course Kaeya wasn’t looking for anything when it came to said flirtations. Not only because the appeal was never there, at least not in any legitimate sense, but because Kaeya secretly felt he was a bit of a burden, something he’d never even admit to himself. And no one wanted a partner with emotional baggage. If there was anything Kaeya was quite sure of it was that. And he hadn’t the time, nor really the ability, to fix all his problems, if he wasn’t permanently broken already. Better to keep away from any firm attachments, one that might ruin the lives of those around him.

This admittedly terrible conclusion was all perfectly fine in theory, but then you’d arrived and it’d all fallen to the wayside.

You were perfection to Kaeya, in more ways than he could count. He loved your smile, as well as the various other expressions you pulled, whether snarky or appalled or excited; he loved the way you laughed, even when you complained it sounded vaguely seal like at some points and like you were dying at others; he loved your every mood and whim, no matter how silly or reckless. He loved when you had a temper and when you showed more restraint than he did, he loved when you acted like a character you’d just read about and he loved when you later got embarrassed by it and begged him to forget it. The list went on and on and on, so many things did he love about you. Most of all he loved that you never seemed in a hurry, not that any of the others had, but the boundaries had shifted quite a bit this time.

So what had begun not so much as flirtation but as awkward friendship blossomed into something more, and Kaeya knew it. Not that there was any proper confirmation, but really was there a need? He told himself that the idea was ridiculous, no need to make things official. Besides, it wasn’t as if Kaeya had changed much at all. Indeed he’d done quite the opposite, determined not to let things shift in the way you two interacted.

Of course he’d excused his actions. After all, though the knight had many contradictory opinions of himself, of his actions, of his past, but they tended towards the negative. He was evil, he was cruel, a shameless opportunist and a failure even in that. Most importantly, in regards to the matter at hand, Kaeya tended to think that he was in no position to enjoy a proper and serious relationship; it wasn’t in him. He’d only bring disaster upon his head and upon the heads of those he loved. How could he let it happen?

That were what he told himself, what again and again he drilled it into his mind. And he ignored the small part of him that told himself it wasn’t any of that, the part which jeered that, if he were altogether truthful, the reason for a lack of meaningful reciprocation ultimately lay in the overwhelming fear he kept buried deep within himself. The fear of telling others about himself. About his actions, his opinions, his morality. The unpolished and deeply irritating bits that even Kaeya couldn’t stand.

But that was buried under too many layers of denial to play into what he was doing, and Kaeya had thoroughly convinced himself that his actions were for the good of everyone, yourself included. So the charade continue, with you saying more and more and Kaeya saying altogether nothing of consequence at all.

“Kaeya, what do you think of me?” You asked one day. It was a summer afternoon, the lazy kind, when all seemed static and half asleep. Kaeya was one of those things, and jolted to full wakefulness, surprised and ill at ease by the sudden question. You didn’t look at all upset, though maybe a bit bashful. The blush that dusted your cheeks and nose was the cutest thing, and if he weren’t so utterly afraid Kaeya might’ve wanted to tease you a bit, and see said blush grow a little bit deeper.

“What do you mean? You’re my fine adventuring friend.” He said, trying to relax once more, hoping the initial jolt of shock hadn’t been evident. It was hard to keep alert at all times around you, especially in what had just been such a relaxing atmosphere. But he had to keep calm and steady, suave as always. Who knows what might happen if not?

“Well I’m glad to hear that,” you began, cadence becoming a little slower, “I’m very glad to hear that. But, well, I was sort of wondering… if it might be a bit… different than that.”

“Is this a sudden confession?” Kaeya asked, tone light and playful.

“No!” You blurted out, gaze dropping. You started tearing at the grass slightly, but the action didn’t worry Kaeya too much. If it wasn’t a confession then it’d be easy enough to sneak out of, and then you two might go back to enjoying the afternoon as usual.

“It’s just…” you continued, staring intently at the ground “it’s just that I want to know. I mean I’m sure it’s obvious how much I care about you, well and truly care about you. You’re my closest friend Kaeya, but you’re also more than that. You’re my confidante, the first person I go to talk to about, well, anything. I said this wasn’t a confession, and it isn’t. But I want to know where we are. And I want you to be honest, what do you think of me?”

You lifted your head up, gaze piercing through Kaeya’s soul. He felt nothing in that moment but terror, the feeling of the ground suddenly giving way below him. What was he to say? What could he say? What did he think of you, the question seemed so simple but Kaeya found he couldn’t answer it, not truthfully. What you meant to him, well you meant almost everything. Kaeya loved you, loved you so much. He wanted to tell you everything about him, wanted to learn everything about you. He wanted to hold you in his arms and listen forever to your voice, to the things you had to say. He wanted to bask in your presence, to drown in it. He loved you, and he knew you loved him too; but it wasn’t that simple. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t tell you what he wanted to say, what you wanted to hear. It was for your own good, and, Kaeya was realizing very quickly, the idea of doing so, of confessing himself, of laying his soul bare, was something so utterly and completely frightening.

“Like I said you’re my dear adventuring friend.” Kaeya managed to get out, hoping there was no streak of falsehood in his voice. Picking up some of the torn up grass he scattered it onto your head, causing a groan of annoyance. Laughing at his childishness Kaeya steered the conversation towards another topic, hoping the former one would never come up again.

It didn’t, but Kaeya still sensed a change. It was gradual enough, indeed it was so gradual he hardly noticed at first. But eventually the change became too great, and Kaeya felt a distinct sinking sensation the first time he’d passed you on the streets on Monstadt and you’d done little more than smile, instead of running up like you usually did to ask him where he was going and tease him about missing work, sure that he was up to no good.

The initial realization having passed a bunch of little things came to the sudden forefront of Kaeya’s mind. Come to think of it you two never met outside of work anymore; gone were the days it seemed when you two would go for a walk after having sandwiches together, both complaining about the others work and wondering when you might ever have a break.

Gone too was the familiarity in some ways. When you two spoke now there was a formality, a distance that seemed to have popped up. You no longer asked Kaeya about his brother, and in return he stopped asking you about your own family, uneasy by the sudden loss of intimacy, and unwilling to be the one to break the barrier.

As the weeks passed by and you grew more and more distant Kaeya grew more and more frantic. He found himself thinking incessantly about you, about what you were doing, where you were going, whether or not you’d ever smile at him the way you used to, if you’d blush again at his teasing. A small piece of him knew that it was his own fault, and knew that it somehow connected back to the conversation you two had had in the summertime. But self-awareness doesn’t always mean change, and Kaeya still refused to do anything about it.

Then he started dreaming about you. He wasn’t sure why, you two saw each other less and less, and there was no reason for him to suddenly start these dreams, but somehow it’d happen. The dreams were mundane, painfully so. They were much like any other dream in content; the only difference being your presence. You were as before in his dreams, as if he’d somehow been able to rewind the clock, but only in his sleep. The two of you did this and that. You saved reckless Pallad, you rode Dvalin with the Traveller, you ran around the Winery, stealing glasses when no one was looking. Always you two were off, doing something completely normal, and always did Kaeya feel such joy that waking up felt rather like torture. He began to dread it, meeting you in his dreams. It felt painful, so very painful, as if he were betraying himself, as if he were betraying you too in some way. He shouldn’t’ve been dreaming of you, and yet he kept right at it, as if his mind were somehow unable to let go.

After three weeks of not seeing you Kaeya relented. He couldn’t go on like this, not one more moment. His work was becoming sloppier and sloppier, and he felt as if he hadn’t slept in years. He’d woken up in the middle of the night, so wretched from the whole situation that he felt like crying out of frustration. In the dark there was no one to pretend to, and he found himself staring at the curtained window, suddenly hit with his utter selfishness. He loved you, he loved you and you loved him, at least you had. And he’d thrown it all away, not out of any kindness or nobility, but out of his own fear, his own inability to be honest for even a moment. It was his fault that this was all happening, and as such he had to make amends.

He found himself at what had been your normal after-work meeting spot, leaning against a squat sort of maple tree. It was the perfect meeting place, far enough from the city to be picturesque, but close enough not to be a trip. Now Kaeya waited, praying to Barbatos that you might, by some miracle, appear.

Evidently the Anemo Archon was in a somewhat favorable mood, that or Kaeya was simply lucky, for he spotted you about fifteen minutes later, walking leisurely towards the tree. You weren’t truly paying attention to your destination, instead glancing in the direction of Cider Lake, expression slightly clouded. Turning your head you stopped dead in your tracks, shaking your head slightly, as if you truly couldn’t believe the sight in front of you.

“I…have something to say.” Kaeya began, not altogether sure what that was. Once he’d come to the conclusion that he was the source of the whole problem it became evident that the only was to solve such a thing was through honesty. But it had been so long since Kaeya had been honest, really truly honest, and he now felt awkward and slightly shaky, as if learning to walk all over again.

“What is it?” Your tone, though surprised, held no hostility in it, instead it seemed vaguely curious. The thought gave Kaeya a bit of strength, and he drew himself up a little more, determined to see this through no matter what.

“I want to apologize for how I’ve treated you. I haven’t… haven’t been honest. I think you realized that, indeed I think you realized it long before I did. But, now that I’ve realized it I want to say I’m so deeply sorry.” He paused for a moment, not sure how to continue on. “Do you remember when you asked me what I thought of you?” He finally asked.

“Of course I do.” You smiled slightly, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “You said I was your friend.”

“Well I was lying.” Kaeya’s voice was blunt, the flirtatious tone that he usually put on nowhere to be found. “In truth you mean so much to me, so much more than I could put into words. You said that you weren’t making a confession, but I am. I like you, no, I love you. You mean more to me than everything, than my past, than my work as a knight, than my shame I carry in regards to my brother. Being around you is like soaking in the sun, or gazing at the moon, and I took it for granted. I took your entire presence for granted, and I understand why you felt the need to distance yourself. Our friendship was built on dishonesty, all because I was afraid. I am afraid still, so very afraid, but I find what I fear more than telling you all of this is never having the opportunity to. You’d don’t have to reciprocate, don’t have to approve of anything I just said. But if there’s any little bit of you that felt as you did this summer I want to apologize to it, and tell you I feel the same.”

The silence was deafening, oppressive. For once Kaeya found he couldn’t keep your gaze; his entire affect, his personality, it was all gone, and what was left was raw and badly kept. Shifting his gaze towards the lake he held his breath and waited for your answer.

He felt your fingers glance his. Snapping his head towards where you were he searched your face for something that might reveal what you were thinking, but you quickly looked at the ground.

“Thank you.” Your voice was no more than a whisper, but to Kaeya it was a lifeline, the fact that he was able to hear your voice once more. “Thank you for being honest.” You slipped your hand into his. “And to answer your unsaid question, I do feel the same way I did when I asked you before. And this too is now a confession, or rather an assent. I love you Kaeya, I’ve never stopped loving you. And though I may still feel a bit hurt by your lack of honesty then, I only ask you this,” you finally moved to look him in the eyes, your gaze misted over by hope and joy and a hint of sorrow, “will you be honest with me now?”

“Until the day I die.” Kaeya breathed out.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” You replied, dropping his hand and flinging your arms around his neck.

Kaeya immediately wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “Thank you” he whispered, over and over again. The fear that had once filled his mind was no more, instead he felt as if he were floating, kept tethered to reality only by your embrace. He was relieved, but more so he was happy, so unbelievably happy. You’d given him a chance he’d never give himself; you’d opened your life back up to him, and now you two might never have to be separated again, not truly anyways.

 “Want to know something?” Kaeya asked, tone playful, as you two walked back to Monstadt, hands linked.”

“What?” You asked, slightly curious. Kaeya smiled, before leaning over and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“I love you.” He whispered against your skin. And he meant it. With his whole heart he meant it.

[hannie-dul-set]

DON’T THINK, JUST DO — na jaemin.

SUMMARY. an overthinker, a piece of advice, a sudden confession, and a subtle meltdown.

PAIRING. na jaemin x g.n. reader GENRE. high school! au, f2l, fluff, humor WARNINGS. swearing WORD COUNT. 1.6k TAGLIST. @danishmiilk​ @wownajaemin​ @leejunini​ @astroboy-lele​ @unknown5tar​ @yunoyeol​ @w0nni3wrld​ @charm-art​ @bat-shark-repellant​ @nct-writers​ @czennienet​ @neowritingsnet​ @kpopscape​

NOTE. surprise LMAO take this quick fic that i wrote in a couple of hours after a bathroom apology for being mia this past week, for not keeping my promises, and for my further disappearance within the next few days/weeks because i am, quite frankly, about to mcfreaking die <3 enjoy.

Self study period. Eight in the morning. Everything was normal— seemingly normal— save for the empty spot beside you where your deskmate should be occupying, perhaps pestering you yet again about the importance of eating breakfast if he were here, but he wasn’t. It was odd.

He’s never been late before.

Saying that makes it sound like you were closely knitted with Na Jaemin, the present absentee and your deskmate for about three years, but you couldn’t admit that you were. You couldn’t admit that you weren’t, either. Still, even if you weren’t as bro with him like his members in the school’s dance team, or as involved in his personal troubles as his childhood best friend, but at least you’ve seen the kind of lunch he brings to school every single day for three straight years. That was probably enough to form some sort of bond— though trivial, maybe even feeble, but it was enough.

That was also enough for you to develop an unsurprising crush on him. Your self-awareness was annoying enough to throw away any ounce of denial.

Which was also why you were worrying over your head when he missed the first period, even more so when he arrived like a disheveled zombie midway through the second.

“Na Jaemin,” you greeted his tardy arrival with your eyebrows creasing in worry. He greeted you with a usual good morning and his usual smile— or so he attempted to. But that smile lasted for approximately 0.813 seconds before he fell onto his seat with a contorted groan. “What’s wrong? Are you sick? Did you practice too hard yesterday? Gosh, you should know better than to overdo it.”

Jaemin only whined when you reached out to pitifully caress his hair, his gaunt face and evident dark circles down buried in his arms. “I’m so tired.”

Dear lord, what happened to the model student that seemed to shine day in, day out despite his overly packed and strenuous schedule? You frowned, telling him that he should just sleep through the rest of the morning and you’d cover for him, but he rose from his slumped over position and waved you off. 

“I can manage,” he gave you a tired smile. “I already missed a lot by being late.”

“You idiot, are you trying to die?” you huffed, snapping your attention off of him in annoyance. “Wait a minute, why does he look fine? Tsk. Lee Donghyuck were you slacking off while your team members were dancing to death?”

The man in question flinched, dropping his phone with a painful noise onto the table when you turned around and smacked a notebook onto his desk.

“Oi, what the fuck? What would you know when you weren’t even there?”

“Then why do you still look fresh while poor, tired Jaemin over here is—”

“It’s not that.”

You turned back around to the worn out voice beside you.

“I just didn’t get any sleep last night.”

To your surprise, Jaemin was the one who came to Donghyuck’s aid.

Donghyuck’s glare was enough to drill two gaping holes into your skill, and you simply bowed and gave him a sheepish grin in apology before switching your attention lanes back to Jaemin. Not the most embarrassing thing you’d ever done, but shameful all the same. “Then why didn’t you say so— anyway, that’s not the point. Did you stay up playing games again? Gosh, did Lee Jeno force you to rank with him? I swear, you guys should—”

“It’s kinda nice to see you worrying about me,” he chuckled, falling back down into his desk with his arms crossed and looking up at you with an invisible, fond grin. “But it’s not that either.”

Damn your stomach for suddenly deciding to stumble over at that insignificant gesture of his. He wasn’t even doing anything, but look at you. All of a sudden, guilt decided to gnaw at your conscience because while Na Jaemin was barely holding onto his consciousness, you were busy fawning over his charms despite the fatigue. You didn’t deserve to sit next to him.

“I was thinking.”

Your thoughts froze.

“About?”

“Things.”

“Like…?”

“Whether I should do this or not, whether I should just give up or not, whether I’m actually stupid or not...” Jaemin sighed, eyes closed in contemplation, or perhaps finally in drowsiness. You hoped that he’d just give in and sleep. “...those things.”

What could he have possibly been thinking about that the poor boy couldn’t even sleep? Whatever it was— cure that entirely. This was a crime. Maybe you shouldn’t confiscate his thermos of coffee later.

“Aish,” you raked your fingers through your hair, expelling an exasperated sigh. “Na Jaemin, as a professional overthinker, let me give you some professional advice—”

He perked up, eye now a little wider and looking at you in a swirl of interest and attentiveness.

“—don’t.”

And now confusion was thrown into the mix.

“You see, it’s an endless, torturous cycle with the only endgame being regret. You believe that you’re only gonna mull it over for a mere moment, weigh your pros and cons, and come up with a decision after a few minutes of thinking—” you breathed it sharply, shaking your head in faux dismay. “—but the ‘what if’s’ come around and before you know it, it’s already five in the fucking morning and you have to go to school in a few hours looking like a contaminated corpse.”

Jaemin blinked his sunken eyes at you. He wasn’t sure what to say, but somehow your speech full of vigor, confidence, and a ridiculous form of charisma drew out all the exhaustion from his veins. He buried his face back into his arms to avoid looking at you.

“Right?”

He pressed his lips together to prevent a smile from forming too wide, but you wouldn’t be able to see, anyway. “Right, you’re right,” but maybe you could hear it in the tone of his muffled voice.

You grinned, proudly nodding to yourself at his affirmation. “Which is why, before you end up following me into this hidden circle of hell— you should just stop. Don’t think. Fuck impulse control. There’s no time to regret when you’ve already done it. It’s not easy. Absolutely not. But it’s better to just get it over with and deal with the consequences after rather than living in an endless loop. So repeat after me— don’t think.”

Slowly, Jaemin peeked out from his huddled position, sitting up straight and looking right at you.

“Don’t think.”

“Just do.”

“Just do.”

“Perfect! You got it,” you beamed. “Don’t think, just do, okay? I believe in you, Jaemin.”

The advice that was haphazardly spilling from your lips was seemingly a bit crooked in nature— arguably so— but he seemed to be genuinely considering it. Jaemin was silent for a moment, blanking out at the rows in front of the both of you before he softly spoke up, eyebrows scrunched together, his head cocking to the side.

“Should I...?”

“Yeah, definitely! You don’t have anything to lose if you do it, right?” he spared another moment of consideration, and you kept going. “...whatever it is— but that doesn’t matter, just do it. If you do, you wouldn’t lose another night of sleep because of it.”

Self study period went on as is, but luckily you two weren’t the only ones not studying. You left him alone to rest and think about it more while you scribbled down answers for an assignment that was due later— highly contradictory to your suggestion of not thinking, but all was released when you heard Jaemin drop his pen to the table, followed after by a long, deep sigh.

“Alright.”

A bright smile overtook you as you busied yourself with the assignment.

“I like you.”

That smile disappeared with a loud and violent cough.

Oh, what the fuck.

“You told me to just do it, so there, I just did it. I like you,” he yawned as he melted into his books, peering over to look at the utter shock and disbelief in your frozen expression. Jaemin had to hold back a laugh. “You don’t have to follow your own advice— take as much time as you need— but I don’t want you losing sleep over me just as I did over you.”

With that, he decided that this was the best fucking time to finally disappear into sleep. You wanted to scream— the feeling of your throat twisting over itself with the indignant desire to squeeze out something, but there was sharp heat at every breath that prevented you from doing so.

You settled for two words only.

“Holy fuck.”

“Thank you for that quick and eloquent response,” Jaemin flipped over, looking at you with tired eyes and an equally tired smile, but despite all that he was still lively. “At least it wasn’t a blatant rejection.”

You thought that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him when his bangs were messily covering his eyes, but your regret came late when you caught the subtle quirk of the corners of his lips when you looked down at him in your daze. “W—wait, who said anything about rejecting you? How dare you drop that bomb onto me when I’m unprepared? I’m never giving you advice ever again.”

Self study period over. Nine in the morning. The bell rang and before your deskmate of three years, your crush of a little less than that could slip back into the slumber that he’d missed because of you, he managed to speak in a soft voice.

“Take your time.”

© hannie-dul-set, 2021.

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Hi! So, Ogata is my favorite character, and I’ve been trying to figure out his whole like, philosophy. I’m not sure if you’ve covered this before, but maybe you could help me understand something that seems contradictory to me? It’s about him basically thinking that everyone is the same as him, but, in ch.103, after he’s killed Yuusaku and is killing his father, he says: “a child born from two parents who don’t love each other...grows up to be an adult who’s lacking something fundamental, don’t you think?” so he’s acknowledging that he IS different, right? That he’s “missing something,” BECAUSE his parents didn’t love each other, so why would he say (in ch.243) “everyone‘s the same deep down,” and (in ch.187) “I’m sure you’re the same as me” (to Asirpa) and “‘pure’ people don’t exist in this world,” when he says Yuusaku “grew up to be a man with integrity...because he was born to two people who loved each other” (ch.103)?

I’m just confused with his logic...like, he seems to acknowledge that Yuusaku turned out differently than himself because his brother had parents who loved each other, and he didn’t, that he’s “lacking something fundamental.” So...why does he continue to believe that “everyone is the same as [him]” (ch.165)? I know he doesn’t WANT to think he’s different, so he wants to believe “everyone’s the same deep down” (ch.243) and before he kills Yuusaku he says “whether or not your parents love you doesn’t cause any difference at all in what a person becomes” (ch.243), but after he killed him, and his father still didn’t love him, it showed Ogata that, basically, yeah, they turned out differently because one lacked love from his parents and the other didn’t, and he even says that, so why does he insist everyone is the same as him? Am I missing something with his reasoning?

Welcome in the club of those who like Ogata as a character!

He’s undoubtedly one of the most interesting in the story and one of the hardest to figure up.

In regard to your question we don’t have a canon answer but, for me, his words need to be read in context and not as an extreme generalization WE ARE ALL EXACTLY THE SAME as Ogata is clearly aware we’re the same only on certain things and on other things WE ARE ALL DIFFERENT.

We know he’s aware of our differences, not just only because he acknowledged himself as a child lacking something, or because he knows he has characteristics other don’t have and viceversa (he can shoot, Sugimoto can’t, Koito is a spoiled, beloved rich prince, he’s poor and without family love) but also for bits like the one in which he acknowledged HE couldn’t do it (meaning someone else could).

‘Yappari ore de wa dame ka, umaku ikan monda na.’

やっぱり俺では駄目か、うまくいかんもんだな

Of course though, although humans are all different among them, they also share many traits in common and it’s to those traits he’s referring when he says others are the same as him.

So to better dig into all this let’s look at what he says.

‘Minna ore to onaji hazu dasu.’

みんな俺と同じはずだす

Lit: “Everyone should be the same as me” though I’ve been told in this contest it means more “I believe everyone is the same as me”. [Chap 165]

In this bit Ogata is not saying ‘everyone is the same’, just that people doesn’t feel guilty when killing people in the same way as he doesn’t.

The first thing to note is that in the manga we see that, as Ogata says so his image is covered by a swirling screen which Noda uses to point out how a character is inside himself not as calm as he looks on the outside but is haunted by swirling emotions.

So, although Ogata looks calm on the outside, this topic actually haunts him on the inside... and Noda confirms this in in chap 243, when Ogata asks confirmation to Usami.

You don’t ask confirmation of something you’re confident about, which means Ogata doesn’t feel so confident about the whole ‘nobody feels guilty’, in fact he asks confirmation to Usami.

There’s a really old post I made in relation to Ogata’s words but GK actually digs a lot in how everyone feels guilty but everyone also copes with guilt in different ways, the most common being ‘suppressing it’.

Ogata, as a child, killed his own mother in the fruitless attempt to bring his father back to her and had to cope with what he had done from a very young age which taught him, better than to other, how to suppress that feeling.

The story clearly hints he feels guilty for having killed Yuusaku yet Ogata is in full denial about it.

The story also has plenty of people in full denial about it. What Yuusaku is missing in his picture of ‘everyone feels guilty’ is that soldiers have to survive it or they would crumble after their first kill and unable to continue fighting and Yuusaku playing the pure icon is nowhere near enough.

Ogata is surrounded by people who’re taught by the army itself to suppress their guilt.

Sugimoto didn’t invent his belief his enemies were ‘bad, heartless people’ this was what was taught to soldiers.

Ogata takes people’s copying mechanisms against feeling guilty at face value, assuming they’re not copying mechanisms but the truth of those people. He sees them not as people trying to fight guilt by suppressing it, but as people not feeling it... with good reasons or he should face he too is suppressing his guilt and therefore should also face feeling guilty.

That’s where his belief steems and why it’s shaky, because it’s based on a lie people tell themselves to survive... but ironically this makes them all (or most of them all) the same. They’re all copying with guilt and trying to suppress it by denying it in various different ways.

Very likely part of Ogata’s story arc will include how he’ll be forced to accept he actually regrets what he did, and if he’s denying it is only because he’s not ready to face his own guilt.

Going on.

‘Omae datte ore to onaji hazuda’

お前だって俺と同じはずだ

Lit: “You too should be the same as me” and yes, it’s the same construct as the previous so this too means “I believe you too are the same as me”. [Chap 187]

Here Ogata is talking of something different by what he talked previously. Here he’s not talking about guilt but about how everyone can kill if he has the right motivation, and one of the saddest things in the world is he’s right.

The world isn’t like a fairy tale, with people cut into two factions, the ones who’re good and would never be able to do something wrong and the ones who’re bad and can only do wrong.

There are many shades of grey and the hardest thing to swallow is that with the right motive, we can do more or less everything.

Of course ‘the right motive’ is a very broad concept.

There are those terrible people who do it for the lowest motives, racism, greed, hate, boredom, religion... but there’s also who would do it because he’s enlisted in an army, or in self defence, or to protect another, or in a moment of point break rage, out of revenge, in desperation, under the belief they’re stopping the pain of the person they’re killing (euthanasia) and so on.

It’s something my psychology teacher warned us about, how actually, given the proper motivation which vary from person to person, in the right setting which again wary from person to person, we can end up doing terrible things we wouldn’t do in normal circumstances... and that’s why believing ‘I would NEVER do this’ is actually counterproductive.

You’ve to be aware there’s always the risk in the future you could do something at the present you know you’ll loathe doing, and the best way to still stop yourself when that time will come is to be aware of how that time can come and prepare yourself to fight it.

Awareness you might be weak and preparation to face such weakness is your last defence line to stop yourself.

Anyway Ogata believes what would make Asirpa tick is a wish for revenge, which was really popular back then and on which Sugimoto had counted as well when he has involved her in the gold hunt.

Asirpa didn’t want to take part to the gold hunt nor didn’t want to kill, Sugimoto said she however wants her father’s killer dead and she could have him killed by proxy, by turning his life useless to his captors, without her having to dirty her hands killing him (or the convicts as Sugimoto planned to do that by himself).

As you can see both Sugimoto and Ogata believed AVENGING HER FATHER would be a powerful motivator for Asirpa and, in Sugimoto’s case, she’ll accept to take part to the gold hunt while in Ogata’s case she’ll be seriously tempted to just do it. It’s to Asirpa’s credits she manages to restrain herself... but it’s interesting to see how later she’ll tell herself she’s ready to kill to protect Sugimoto...

...but then, when she considers doing it to protect herself, it’s the memory of almost killing Ogata what stay her hand.

In short it’s the memory of the sense of guilt she felt in that circumstance what stopped her... and that’s why soldiers were taught to suppress that guilt, because they should kill again and again.

On the other side what’s Yuusaku’s reason for not killing?

His father told him not to.

It’s not that he found it morally wrong or something, it’s just his father told him not to. There’s to wonder if, had Hanazawa told him the opposite, to kill as many as he could, Yuusaku would have been a killing machine.

There’s not deep refusal of killing what moves Yuusaku when he refuses to kill, it’s just obedience to his father’s words. Yuusaku doesn’t say words he had come to believe because he had thought about them, he’s merely quoting Hanazawa. This is probably why Yuusaku doesn’t manage to reach or understand Ogata back then, because there’s no understanding in what he says, just acceptance what his father said has to be true.

But I’m digressing.

So to sum up.

If you ask me Ogata isn’t contraddicting himself.

He’s aware people are different on some matters and the same on others because people are deliciously complicate like that.

Ogata is also right on the fact we all have the potential to kill in the right situation and for the right reason but messes up on the guilt part because he’s working with wrong information about himself and the others and therefore fails to understand this part.

However, since guilt had seemed to be one of the theme tied to his character the discussion might come up again and he might come to understand this better... or Noda might decide to explore why he’ll never overcome his maladaptive copying mechanisms and acknowledge he felt guilty.

We’ll see. I hope I was of some help! Thank you for your ask!

[judeloski]

💀  * [ ella purnell + demi female + she/her ] —— have you met judith ‘jude’ loski? they are a twenty-one year old junior currently studying fine arts. they live on farrow house, and word around campus is that this capricorn is creative + magnetic, as well as contradictory + morbid. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. a skull pattern stained onto fine china, flowers plucked too soon, red wine staining the seam of your lips.  [ ooc: pepper. twenty four. she/her & est. ]

ABOUT THE MUN.  hey baby, hey baby, hey baby, hey baby, here’s twenty dollars!

hello it is pepper again with my second muse because i have no self control. depending on whether or not i can handle this amount of muses i might drop one but for now i am hype!! i have had jude living rent free in my head for like ??? a year at least, and this is the first time i’ve gotten to play her so i’m living large! the entire inspiration behind her is inspired by my creative writing teacher in uni so this is a shout out to you jen i love you!! okay that is all. 

BIO.  kidnapping tw, death tw, child neglect tw. holiday candles that smell just like your years as a feral child in the forest!

i was gonna write a nice sexy bio but honestly my brain is offline rn so i don’t think that’s gonna happen, instead, welcome to these sexy bullet points. 

judith evianna loski was born approximately two minutes prior to her twin sister juliette elenora loski during a frightful blizzard in londan, england. while judith popped out of her mother kicking and screaming bloody murder from day one, moment one, juliette was a docile baby. she was so sweet and quiet that the doctor’s had to check her breathing more than once. while, of course jude made her presence, and her posession of a working set of lungs and killer set of vocal chords, known to everyone within a ten kilometre radius. let’s just say the loskis knew the difference between their daughters instantly. 

which was fine. jude and julie liked being different anyways. where jude was colour coded green, julie was colour coded blue. while julie was always thrilled at the prospect of a new dress or doll, jude was known for covering such gifts in mud or paint until they were utterly recognizable or suitably ruined. where julie was sweet, and quiet, and shy, jude could fill a room with just her presence, could make a friend in a sea of strangers. the fact was, jude always had what julie lacked, and for the most part vice versa. they fit together like two puzzle pieces, and they complimented each other perfectly. and despite their differences, both their parents adored them unconditionally, and equally for the first six years of their lives. 

which of course meant the girls were spoiled rotten. how could they not be? damon loski was an english gentleman coming from very old, very lucrative oil money. he ran his business like a hobby and yet the loskis still had more than enough money to buy an island or two, especially considering annette’s status. annette loski was a french photographer, and a talented one at that. her work was desperately sought after and world renowned for it’s beauty, and so in her own right, annette was more than well off. and thus, the twins were more than well off, and even if they couldn’t quite understand the concept of that yet, they definitely understood that they could have whatever they wanted just by asking for it. they understood that wherever they went they were to be accompanied by a nice man or woman who was supposed to keep them safe. and they understood that because of mummy and daddy’s jobs they weren’t allowed to play like the other kids did. but as young as jude and julie were they never truly understood why.

that was until three weeks after the girl’s sixth birthday. jude remembers the whole thing like it was yesterday. it was snowing that day and it was that thick puffy snow that made everything seem quiet, the kind that made it hard to see too far ahead on the path you were trekking. the loski twins had taken advantage of the weather to slip between the fingers of their caretaker for the first time and go to the local park. their escape with thrilling, a game of espionage turned reality and the two girls basked in their victory as they made snow angels and twirled and twirled in the snow. that was the day jude had set out to swing higher than she ever had before and demanded that julie watch. and her sweet sister, as submissive as she was, had never quite learned how to say no to jude. so while jude swung and swung and swung, julie stood and watched her from across the park by herself, eyes wide and innocent as she warmed up her numb fingers with her breath. until she wasn’t. alone that is. jude remembers spotting the woman approaching julie. she remember seeing them talking. she remembers the warm clouds her own breath made, almost in sync with the breaths huffing past her sisters lips, foggy up the air before her eyes and obscuring her view. she remembers julie taking the woman’s hand. she remembers the two of them moving to leave the park. and she will never forget that heart stopping moment of quiet, of confusion and fear as her swing slowly came to a stop. she remembers losing julie in the blur of the snow that day.

eventually the police found jude huddled under a tree a block away, still calling her sister’s name into that eerily quiet snow storm, blue lipped and half frozen to death as she shook like a leaf. jude came out of that experience with phemonia. julie didn’t come out of that experience at all. 

well, in all honesty there was no way for the loski’s to know that. after all, they never saw julie again. for all jude knew, her sister could be alive and well, living a new happy life where she had no memory of having a sister. where she had a family that was whole for no reason other than she doesn’t remember it falling apart, and where she loved and was loved in return. it was always so easy to love julie. so honestly, it was entirely possible. 

jude would like to believe that was true. even if in that scenario it would undoubtedly mean that jude got the short end of the stick. 

you see, after julie’s kidnapping anette and damon’s marriage fell to pieces over the years. the trauma of losing a child can do that to you, you know. during that time, as her parents bond splintered apart at the seams, jude remembers hearing her grandmother tell her mother to keep it together for jude. to stick out out for the child she had left. 

her mother left them both in the middle of the night without warning less than a week later. so, jude supposes she wasn’t quite enough to hold things together. 

jude might have been comforted by the fact that she still had her father if he could even look her in the eye. the fact was, jude looked exactly like julie and julie and jude were always both told they were dead ringers for their mother. jude was a physical reminder of literally everything her father had lost, and he didn’t take that quite well. suddenly damon’s hobby of a job became his life. anything to not be home with his ghost of a daughter. 

now the doom and gloom of all this might make it seem like jude took all this trauma and just got really down in the dumps about it. that would be incorrect. jude took that trauma, buried it very deep and only ever used it to fuel her art but otherwise completely ignored it altogether. there’s a difference. one option requires years of therapy and the other can be dealt with pretty easily with years of denial, even if you’re forced to go to therapy anyways because your twin sister was kidnapped in front of you and that kind of thing generally gets you a ticket to therapy for life. very different. 

jude isn’t sure if it was that trauma, her parents name, the fact that the news of her sister’s kidnapping was pretty spread all over europe for about a month, or even unlikely enough her talent that launched her art career, but something did. maybe it was a combination of everything. but either way, jude loski was able to find herself with her own small art gallery opening at the tender age of thirteen. and her success in the art world only grew from their, her art galleries and portfolio growing and growing until the point that jude was able to find herself with a place at holloway. and considering there wasn’t much left for her in england anyways, considering her father barely spoke to her and her mother was gone like the wind, jude decided to go. 

and that’s all i got for now, and also i’m tired but if you want to plot give this a like and i will slide into your dms.

HEADCANNONS.  *aggressively makes tea*

here is her pinterest board. 

do not call her judy,  

hates her birthday and hates snow storms understandably. is a big fan of rain though. particularly enjoys thunder storms. 

is allergic to bees but is super chill about it. had an allergic reaction when she was fourteen that her dad was too busy on a business call to notice was happening. the nanny ended up being the one to stab her with the epipen. 

has pretty bad nightmares and night terrors sometimes and hence generally likes to sleep when the sun is out if she sleeps at all. because of that she tends to seem pretty nocturnal. you can probably catch her at the library in the middle of the night. 

loves weird little knicknacks. like voodoo dolls and like shrunken heads or like other weird stuff you find in the corners of antique shops and stuff. her side of her dorm is probably full of them so rip to her roommate. 

really loves skulls and other modern kind of contradictory things on fine china. learnt to make the designs herself cause there isn’t nearly enough of them, but she just does it for herself as a hobby like she doesn’t sell them or anything. 

learnt to weld on a whim. catch jude in her dorm welding things to make sculptures out of metal. 

bisexual as hell theydies. 

spent a lot of her teenage years with her godmother but i’m too tired to get into that rn i might add to this later

loves poetry and novels, but likes the flowery shit yk, the stuff that makes you feel something. 

is a good student for the most part but is horrible in math and science. sits in on english and classics courses for fun though. 

is v english and therefore very particular about her tea. 

i do headcannon that julie is fine and okay and just living that finding carter life so if anyone was wondering yeah she’s out there somewhere and alive with a new kidnapper mom yk 

a bit witchy. the kind who washes her door in rosemary and sunwater because she believes in that kind of thing and doesn’t understand why people don’t. that said, she doesn’t believe in god even a little bit but she goes to church every sunday anyways just to admire the stained glass and ask very specific questions to spark debate. she also just genuinely likes the vibe of jesus. not god, but jesus, she’s cool with. 

unfortunately is a dirty smoker. smokes nicotine and weed. probably vapes. 

the type to quote poetry when she’s drunk or high. can be very annoying because she always thinks that she’s like transcended into another world. 

i have a feeling in my heart that she’s really bizarre and she was really bizarre as a child after losing julie. big lilo from lilo and stitch vibes yk. just weird and sentimental and lonely. 

has a pet rabbit named julius. 

doesn’t tend to talk about her dead missing sister so unless you think your muse would know about it she probably wouldn’t tell them i’m ngl 

as for personality i have no clue!!! this is my first time playing her so i’m gonna figure it out yk

WANTED CONNECTIONS. I kinda need a hug but I’d rather DIE than let anyone know I am a human being that desperately craves intimacy

CHILDHOOD FRIEND. please. they can be from anywhere okay i will make it work i live for childhood friend connections. 

ENEMIES. i mean why not 

BEST FRIENDS. again, pls.

CONFIDANTES. someone she trusts, we love to see it 

EXES. i have a feeling that jude is one of those ‘i’m gonna leave before you leave me’ kind of people, so she definitely could have self sabotaged this kind of thing

MUSE. self explanatory but consider this: please. 

CRUSH. jude has a crush on your muse or vice versa

FAMILY FRIEND. self explanatory, but it could be wild that’s all i’m saying. 

and other stuff ofc, but my brain is so tired y’all i have to knock out

[normal-thoughts-official]

ok not to be That Magnus Stan but seeing your last ask... how do you think adhd/sensory issues might intersect with kink for Magnus? (You don't have to answer jkjljljljkllljlk)

i mean pls be That Magnus Stan tbh, and id be more than happy to answer it 👀👀👀

also the ask you’re referring to is no longer my last ask because it took me a while to finish this up, but anyway

ok so there's plenty of things that apply the same way to the both of them - like hyperfixating on their characters when planning roleplay, definitely the whole thing about how domspace (well, subspace for magnus, but u get it) feels a bit like hyperfocus? like his senses are just honed in and particularly for an adhd person that's just great news. like usually his head is all over the place but when he's in subspace he gets that quiet and he's just focusing on his own pleasure and everything else quiets down for a bit

in that sense i feel like it's the opposite of what anon said about being overwhelmed, like, i feel like the enhanced sensations are good for magnus because again adhd = brain desperately looking for stimuli at all times, so when he's engaging in like, orgasm delay/denial, gangbang and the like, he has a clear thing to focus on, sometimes even more than he can really process, and that kind of satisfies his brain?

udhdudndid that sounds stupid but i hope you understand what i mean, like, of course sensory issues could become bad and he might need to safeword but when he's in the proper headspace and he just allows himself to be washed over by the pleasure and let go, it feels like finally his mind is clear. i don't know if i have adhd, but it definitely feels that way for me. also, he might actually need the overstimulation in order to focus and feel pleasure, sometimes. like anything less he just.... wanders away jdhdudjdi i also feel that way

also, warning again just in case! im not saying "wow ppl with adhd are subs". im just conjecturing about how a person who happens to have adhd and be into subbing (and like, specifically the kind of adhd and kinks i hc for magnus) would feel in regards to how those things overlap and change their experience with their pleasure. or well, magnus specifically, not just any person with adhd. but anyway

also that thing i said about following orders and just letting go, like- usually his mind is going a mile a minute, and as a political leader and someone who's been on his own most of his life etc he just worries all the time. how to present, gesticulate, speak, what to say, what to do, he's always hyperaware of his own movements (because he has to) and worrying about others and their pleasure and comfort and shit, so to get to just lie back, not move - be unable to move, even - follow orders and be a good boy? that's some A+ shit right there

you know? he doesnt have to be anxious about anything or try to keep his thoughts and movements in check and guess ppl's reactions or even worry if he's just following orders - orders he knows he'll enjoy, that he's agreed to, planned for, with someone that he trusts - and feeling the pleasure that comes from that. a huge part of his usual thoughts is finally muted and that helps him feel relaxed and mellow and get into subspace. which again, he craves, because usually adhd brain is just aaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA and so subspace is a very welcome and even needed break

even from a neurological standpoint, like... adhd is basically lack of norepinephrine in the brain, and orgasms, especially intense ones, release a lot of that, but I'll try not to nerd out too hard here. tho i might have to go back to that in a minute

isnt it performance art that i had a genius thought that i loved and halfway through finishing the last sentence i just forgot it

oh yeah! thinking specifically about rsd and how this comes into play for someone who's into humiliation kink. there are several psychological analyses that postulate that one of the things attractive about bdsm is that it allows you to explore fears and generally bad situations in a controlled environment. kinda like reading fiction or doing extreme sports. so in that sense bdsm is attractive because it allows you to act on those fears and turn them into something 1- safe, 2- under their control, instead of the other way around, and 3- pleasurable

and like... dont get me wrong it's not that magnus is into being told "ur ugly and no one loves you" or something lmao but in a way humiliation kink is enacting a fantasy of rejection/belittling, except turned inside out? like "you're my good little fucktoy, you were made to be fucked like this, you slut" is degrading and belittling and on the verge of calling someone worthless... except positive. because that's what makes them so great to fuck? so in a way this kind of play flips the tables on many concepts because being a "slut" or a "toy" feels like a compliment. and in this process of degradation you are taking the fear of being worthless and making a scenario where that being true is exactly what makes the person worthwhile

idk i might be reaching a bit here cuz i think im into humiliation that's way more hardcore than i think magnus would be like i straight up enjoy being called worthless lmao but i feel like that makes sense, the way that humiliation/degradation play takes your fear of rejection or shortcoming and is like "but if that were true.... that would make you good" like o shit can't argue with that

and again like.... obviously that's all a very careful line as you're dealing with some sensitive stuff, which is why doms need to go through training to be able to deal with the physical and mental implications of what they're doing. and none of this is conscious of course, i don't think magnus is out there thinking this through deeply or anything, im just saying it's a part of what makes bdsm subconsciously appealing to some ppl. but my point is, rsd might play a part in why magnus is into that mix of praise and humiliation. like i think he needs the praise for reassurance even during play, which alec is more than happy to provide ("you're so beautiful, look at you, so perfect like this, i love you,"), and that kind of play where rejection, praise, and pleasure are all kind of one and the same is appealing because it just makes it all the more overwhelming without actually being negative and your mind is just lost in the almost contradictory stimuli but the pleasure and the positive wins out and you just feel so relaxed and good? yeah

but there's also like, the way that impacts the negative possible outcomes of bdsm. namely, rsd and subdrop

rsd is kind of obvious so i'll try to be brief: it's a sensitive issue and if he's not in the proper headspace for it, it can have the opposite effect and go very wrong very fast, because his reaction to rejection is hyperamplified by it. so if it has the opposite of the desired effect - rejection overpowering praise and pleasure - it might go south so fast he doesnt have the time to yellow. like he can't prevent it before it happens, you know? which is also why i think he wouldn't go Super Deep into humiliation and why the mix with praise is key - which is another way in which they are compatible because alec sure does love praising him

as for subdrop: if you don't know what that is, basically BDSM play is very intense and releases a fuckton of endorphins all at once very fast, so, sometimes, the sub doesn't come down from their orgasm as much as falls facefirst back to earth. meaning, their brain empties itself of endorphins, which leaves them feeling hollow and depressed, sometimes also moody, hypersensitive/prone to crying, fatigued, and just generally bad

which is one of the many reasons aftercare is important! and also proper dom training! with proper aftercare, you can prevent that drop from happening, by keeping the sub feeling positively. reassurance, touch, and other forms to bring physical and/or psychological relief and/or pleasure helps keep their brain from just crashing once the rush of endorphins is over, so it lasts a little longer and they can come down from the high gently. work those neurotransmitters yall! keep them up and running!

so anyway i feel like subdrop is not only a bigger deal for ppl with adhd (because adhd is already a lack of neurotransmitters so fucking up your balance even further is Very Bad), but also more likely to happen if you're not careful, because the "regular" adhd brain already has a lack of neurotransmitters, which keep those endorphins running. so adhd ppl might "run out" of them even easier

NOTE: i'm not affirming that, this is a shot in the dark. i have no data or research to back that up and im nowhere near an expert in neuroscience, i just know the basics. so don't take this part too seriously and definitely don't quote me on it

but anyWAY yeah. my point is, subdrop can be a problem so it’s something that he tries to be prepared for, have some snacks before and after, do proper aftercare, etc. like i said, it’s mostly preventable, although sometimes stuff like this happens even if you do your best. but anyway

and there’s another thing too, which is that one possible sympton of subdrop is feeling rejected and alone. which is super fun when you have rsd! so yeah. subdrop can be very bad for magnus. and like, don’t get me wrong, i’m not saying it happens every time or super frequently or something, but it IS something he has to watch out for possibly more than others haha man thinking about how camille didn’t care about this at ALL. he knows it can be bad, but he’s also learnt how to prevent it for him, and as the healthy bastards that they are, magnus and alec talk about that in length. during alec’s Research™ he comes across that concept and he brings it up with magnus and makes sure that he knows everything there is to know about how and when magnus experiences subdrop and how to deal with that. he also makes magnus promise to let him know if he ever has it, because alec WILL drop everything to go and give him extra care. and it’s sweet

on a better note! BDSM has been shown to be associated with lower levels of rejection sensitivity among practitioners. so that’s nice? like obviously magnus won’t find the cure for his rsd with BDSM or anything, but i like the idea of magnus opening his eyes one day and realizing that hey, ever since alec and i have been doing play more often, i’ve been feeling a little less affected by rejection?

also like, BDSM as a whole helps enhance trust and communication in a relationship (obviously it needs to already be there for the BDSM activities to take place and like please everyone everything i’m saying here is on people who enjoy it. how you perceive these actions is heavily influenced by whether or not you enjoyed them so i’m not saying that BDSM is great for everyone, i’m saying that it’s great for people who are into it. so don’t go thinking BDSM will do your relationship good or something, k? k) for obvious reasons, so that also helps magnus feel more secure you know. so that’s a positive way that these things interact too 

and okay, i think that’s all i have? not that this isn’t gigantic but like you know. i don’t know how to end this other than uh i had fun answering that ask! also, again, i’m not a psychologist or a neuroscientist and there is actually pretty little research on the psychological effects of BDSM as most of the discussion seems to be centered on “is kink a disease?” due to stigmatization, so like, please, i’m doing this for fun, alright? i tried to make it as accurate as possible and also i get Into It and dive deep into research sometimes so while this is a somewhat educated guess, don’t take everything i say here as face value

in short, thanks for asking! 

[tothedarkdarkseas]

Do you think murdoc is uncomfortable with his more feminine side? What things do you think he's holding back on doing? How would that change the band's perception of him?

TW for misogyny, and a cut for length!

I think there’s such a fascinating contradictory nature to Murdoc, in that he does have this feminine energy and yet much of his behavior is very much defined by a deep-set toxic masculinity. He’ll wear “women’s” cosmetics, knickers, heels– as in proper, red stiletto heels– but still make very crude and frankly objectifying comments, and he’ll use pretty insensitive language especially if there’s an opportunity to get a rise out of Stu. I think he is “comfortable” to a certain extent with what he likes, at the 30+ age at least; he’s not so in denial as he might’ve been before 18 and he’s not so secretive as he might’ve been at 24, and he assigns less “meaning” to it than Stu does pretty much up to recent years… but I also don’t think Murdoc would appreciate being seen “like a girl” to people he isn’t sleeping with, not in early phases at least. I used this example before, but it’s that sort of funny juxtaposition between Murdoc pretty much asking Stu to emasculate him and make degrading comments, but then turning around and belittling Stu for showing emotions he perceives as feminine. I don’t think he’s trying to be contradictory or that he’s really even aware that he is, it’s just a conflict between desire and learned behavior and both of those, at the stage he’s at now, are really innate, reactive impulses. Growing up as he did and where he did, I’d imagine that unlearning not only the discomfort but the judgment toward emotion would be a challenge. I don’t necessarily believe Murdoc consciously thinks anything like “I can’t cry because crying is for girls,” but yet when Stu cries, it’s almost kneejerk to mock him by insinuating that he’s “acting like a girl,” despite the fact that he’d offered 10 minutes ago to, er, be put in a “feminine” position by Stu.

As far as femininity outside the bedroom, I think Murdoc has a harder time expressing that until he factors it into something that benefits him, as he generally does, and essentially connects it to self-gratification anyway– for example, to be seen by Stu wearing “women’s” undergarments gives him a thrill, whereas very early on in his success, to sincerely show up at an event wearing a blouse and skirt would feel a bit like panto to him, he wouldn’t even have the respect for himself that he’d supposedly expect anyone else to have, he’d feel like a source of mockery to himself. I don’t necessarily think it stopped him very slightly wading into that, but early on I think there’s a reason you don’t tend to see Murdoc’s style as quite so fluid, and when the cameras or interviews shift toward his erotic life he suddenly becomes a lot more forward about these things. I reckon at first he has to sort of work everything into his sexual behavior in order to feel he gets something out of it, and at that point, it can exist outside of personal shame. He’d also make comments about “feminine” activities (like getting his arsehole waxed, still not over that) but I think he’d either deliver those things in a joking tone– Murdoc deflecting anything and everything with comedy is pretty much a core character trait– or he’d again loop it back into being something gratifying, something he intends to be judged on his own terms for. That’s the tricky tightrope with Murdoc, there are things he relishes when he’s “allowed them” that also unnerve him in a fight-or-flight-response way when he doesn’t feel like he’s let them happen. It’s the difference between Stu uncomfortably insinuating something and Murdoc taking it a step beyond and saying something far cruder than Stu would’ve, and a gossip rag running an article that insinuated all the same things. If Stu wanted to call him “less of a man” he would get the chance to ask for it again, slower this time, he’d get the option to eroticize that and have consent over it– but if The Sun says that it’s just out there, it’s just something talentless, unaccomplished strangers or some old fucking cunts in Stoke can read and have a laugh at.

Of course, more recent phases of Gorillaz have made Murdoc much more openly comfortable with feminine style, which I’m all for and encourage Jamie to continue drawing, so if we’re going to step away from being problematic about these old British geezers for once on this blog… you could certainly say he’s hit a point of more sincere self-realization, or simply not caring in a more modern age. I’m cool with that. His crying also contradicts… a lot of what I’ve characterized about his emotional stunting, but y’know, Gorillaz canon cares not for whatever I’ve got going on and that’s fine, haha.

As for how it would change the band’s perception of him– it would depend on the phase, but honestly not that much. Stu already has highly conflicting and highly volatile feelings about Murdoc from the start, and after PB he’d have much more defining and more damning impressions of Murdoc– if anything, to see Murdoc express his feminine side in his older age would alarm Stu a lot less than if he’d done it in their “youth” (relatively speaking, Murdoc wasn’t all that young) and if we choose to go nicer with it, it might be sort of quietly reassuring to him that Murdoc’s addressing some of his hang-ups, knowing Murdoc as he’s known him. (If we choose to go less nice, he’s simply beyond that immature stage of being scandalized by Murdoc’s relationship to gender or sexuality, Murdoc doesn’t shock and entice him anymore, he just damages and disappoints. But y’know, your choice! I’d say it’s a little of both, and gets nicer the more distance they get from PB.) As for the others, I think Noodle is young enough that as a child it wouldn’t mean anything to her, and as an adult she’s simply of a newer generation. Her relationship to Murdoc is already complicated and, in my mind, not especially flattering either; if anything, depending on how good their relationship is at the time she might have similar thoughts to Stu. Russel I also don’t see as being overly involved in his bandmates’ lives and would likely care the least. I realize that’s mainly just referring to open outer expression like wardrobe or activities, but it’s hard to conceptualize what is “feminine” in a way everyone in the band would agree on, as I don’t think Russel and Noodle would have the same toxic masculinity that Stu and Murdoc are working through.

[ellnaturae]

XII. THE HANGED MAN. ELLIOTT GILBERT.

The Hanged Man at a glance: crossroads, suspension, restriction, control, letting go, sacrifice, martyrdom, indecision, delay, surrender, new perspectives.

The Hanged Man represents surrender and sacrifice, and the boundary of control and letting go. The Hanged Man calls for introspection and meditation. It is the balancing of one’s self to one’s destiny, to one’s goal. What will one give up to achieve one’s dreams?  

This card represents the mind reaching for enlightenment and heavenly knowledge. Normally, the Hanged Man is depicted by an upside-down man serenely suspended from the living World Tree’s branches. The man has a yellow halo around his head showing spiritual attainment. The peaceful expression of the man shows that the person himself has chosen to be hung like a criminal, that he is a volunteer. There is no card as complex and multi-layered in its meaning as the Hanged Man.

Conversely, Elliott is a Shedim, a demonic force seen to be “evil” by his contemporaries. Unlike traditional depictions of the card, Elliott is bound by the magic circle, which represents the spell that summons Shedim into the world and binds them to servitude. Instead of the branches of the World Tree, Elliott is tied to the roots – signifying the ancient Demonic Magic he has deep within him that has yet to be tapped. In lieu of ropes, Elliott is wrapped with snakes, an emblem of forbidden knowledge.

Elliott is represented in Demon Mode to highlight his quest for the freedom of his people. He is the ultimate martyr, suspended in aetherspace and time to sacrifice himself for the greater good. The Hanged Man exemplifies Elliott’s journey and path to knowledge, showing that there are times where action must be suspended to reflect on the possibilities that may arise, as well as Elliott’s tendency to put his self-interest aside to change society for the better.

However, the Hanged Man is a card of paradoxes. The Hanged Man’s meaning is that we “control” by “letting go.” It is a card that suggests that “winning” is achieved by surrender. The card shows the various threats to Elliott in the background, yet Elliott does not impetuously attack. He waits and then will rebut with the proper action. He is never an instigator of violence, but one who is a victim of it – albeit willingly in this card’s case. He has decided to take on the pains of the world to fulfill his desires. No pain, no gain.

Yet the Hanged Man is not without its own hang ups. Due to the complicated weight of burden, the Hanged Man in excess or reverse can lead to feeling restricted or stuck in life because of these duties of sacrifice, or the fear of sacrifice can lead to delays and denials of the present state. The pain of emotional release, of being vulnerable, can also be a deterrent on moving forward in life. It is only through meditation and coming to terms that Elliott must be willing to lose something great to fulfill the highest cause that the true completion of the Hanged Man’s arc can be achieved.

Furthermore, since Elliott is the ultimate martyr, he may give up far too much for others at the expense of his own mental and spiritual well-being that may prevent him from his goal. This is represented by the ball of “connections” that are knotted up in his heart. Elliott must force himself to look at a different perspective, as evidenced in the literal upside-down point of view of this card, to see things in a new light and help break old patterns of bad behavior in himself and others. He must learn how to accept what just is.

In conclusion, Elliott Gilbert as the Hanged Man personifies a man at the crossroads of life, where he must take time to choose what path is best to go forward. It’s an important card that emphasizes the need to re-examine our options and ourselves. The best approach to a problem is the not the gung-ho, obvious one. When we want to exert the most control and force our will on someone is when we should refrain and release control. When we want to be selfish, that is when we should be selfless. When we want to act and shout, that is when we should wait and listen. By applying these contradictory paradoxes, that is when we are able to find what we are searching for.

Happy holidays, Karin! Being your friend has been and always be one of the most rewarding things about life. You inspire and motivate me to be the best I can be, and I’m so thankful that I get to create meaningful art with you. Thank you so much for your friendship. 2018 will be our year, bae.  Cada diํa te quiero mas. –  Your Secret Santa!

[skylarmiller04-blog]

Cool Through My Eyes

In November 1968, the cigarette company, Virginia Slims, designed an all new advertisement designed to target women. On the ad is a woman, Cynthia Robinson, who is shown smoking a cigarette in the cellar trying to hide her addictive habit from her husband. This image of Robinson is contradictory. At the time the photo was taken, 1915, Robinson contradicted herself. She dressed like a proper housewife, wearing a chic, long dress with her hair in a stylish bun, but in that moment she was acting like anything but a proper housewife. In 1915, women were seen as an accessory to men. They were expected to sit still and look pretty, and when they got married they took on the role of being the ideal housewife. This entailed cooking, cleaning, taking care of the children, and doing pretty much whatever their husbands told them to do. What they were not expected to do was smoke. Smoking was seen as a man’s habit, it was not for women. And when women did smoke, it appeared as if they were rebelling, which they were. Cynthia did not care that smoking was considered a man’s activity, she took part in it anyways. When smoking that cigarette in the cellar, Cynthia Robinson knew that her actions would have consequences, meaning her husband would be upset with her smoking and he was. When he caught her smoking, he immediately sent her up to her room. She was thirty-four years old and yet he treated her like a child, not his wife. But she did not let that get her down. She continued to rebel against him, which is a key element to the idea of cool according to Dick Pountain and David Robins, the authors of Cool Rules: Anatomy of an Attitude (26). This soon became a widespread attitude held by women. They started rebelling against the perfect housewife image. They were done trying to appease their husbands and were doing more of what they wanted to. To me, this is a key characteristic behind the idea of cool. As defined by Dick Pountain and David Robins, cool is an attitude that takes on the characteristics of rebellion, ironic detachment, hedonism, and narcissism (26). I think Cynthia was a cool woman, much cooler than me. She rebelled against her husband and societal norms, did things that brought her pleasure, and did not show her feelings towards people’s disapproval of her smoking. All of these characteristics Cynthia possessed are key to her coolness. But me? I do not think I am that cool anymore. I follow the rules instead of breaking them. I listen to my parents and grandparents instead of rebelling against them. And I do what I know will benefit me in the long run instead of what I want to do in the moment just because I want to do it. And to be honest, I think I have had the wrong idea of cool in my head for a while. Prior to reading Pountain and Robins’ book, I used cool as a synonym for good, which is completely inaccurate. In fact, they go out of their way to state in their novel that cool means the “opposite of ‘good’” (31). If someone asked me last year if I thought I was cool, I would have said yes. I had plenty of friends in high school and we were all getting accepted into prestigious universities. Whether it be Notre Dame, Georgetown, Dartmouth, Harvard, or even the University of Miami, we were all accepted into schools with excellent reputations. Not to brag, but people wanted to be like us. They wanted to be in our friend group, they wanted all of their hard work in high school to take them to where we were going. Other high school seniors wanted to be like us because we had the “perfect work-life balance.” We put in the work to maintain our near perfect GPAs and high standardized test scores while being able to still play sports and hang out with friends. We were not your typical nerds, we were still regular high schoolers, we just put in a lot of effort to everything we did. Somehow all of these things made us popular in a sense. Everyone in school knew who we were and they wanted to be us. They thought we were cool, which made me think I was cool. But I really wasn’t. The idea I had in my head as cool was far from what cool really is. In all actuality, I was far from cool. I was acting like a sheep. I did what was expected of me and what was accepted among my peers. I most definitely did not rebel against anything, unless you count the fact that my uniform shorts were an inch too short. The way I see it is that I didn’t really have a reason to rebel. I was content with how my life was going. But, people like Cynthia Robinson had a reason to rebel and they ended up changing society through their rebellion. On another note, Friedrich Nietzsche once said, “to live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.” Cynthia Robinson most certainly suffered in her time, me? Not so much. Cynthia lived in a society where men and women were not seen as equals, rather women were possessions men owned. She was not able to do things men were able to do simply because of her gender. If that is not oppression, then I do not know what is. But I have not suffered like that at all. I basically have had everything handed to me on a silver platter. If I wanted a new outfit, makeup, jewelry, or even purse, I got it. I have not had to partake in manual labor, in fact I have never even had a job. I have not been seen as inferior to the guys around me either. Basically, I have lived the life every other white girl in America in the 21st century has lived. And something else Nietzsche said, about people transforming their muck to gold, has stuck with me (Hollingdale). I truly do agree with Nietzsche in this aspect, I just cannot relate to it. The closest I have come to suffering is having to put up with a high school teacher who did not teach. That’s all. I have not suffered from an ailment, a death in the family, or even being oppressed in society like other people have and still are. I don’t think I can channel my muck into gold simply because I don’t have any muck. I’m sure I’ll have some in the future, it is part of the human condition to suffer, so muck is inevitable at some point in my life, it just hasn’t happened yet, and that is okay. I’m in no hurry to suffer. Another thing I did not realize until reading Cool Rules: Anatomy of an Attitude is that “cool change[s] from place to place, time to time, and generation to generation” (Pountain and Robins 17). So what I think is cool is different from what my parents think is cool and what my grandparents think is cool. Therefore, what I think is cool is different from what Pountain and Robins thought is cool and that is okay. I am not saying that Pountain and Robins are looking at cool from the wrong perspective, everyone views cool from a different lens and that is what makes it such a unique attitude to possess. To me, what I want to be and what is cool do not seem to overlap. Growing up as an only child, I tended to do what my parents asked of me. I was and still am very close to my parents, so I do not like upsetting or disappointing them. I made sure to partake in various clubs, honors societies, and a varsity sport in high school while also getting into college. In short, I did not get into trouble and was constantly seeking my parents’ approval. In the eyes of Pountain, Robins, and Nietzsche to name a few, I did not live a cool life. I live my life how I want to, but it is not cool. According to these writers, what cool people would do is drop out of school, move away from home, and hang out in an alleyway or abandoned building smoking with other vagabonds. They would not try to plan out the next ten years of their lives. I do not think cool is meant for everyone and that is what makes it so mysterious and desirable. I think there is a weird balance of cool in my life. While I might not want to be cool, I still admire cool people, like James Dean and Cynthia Robinson. I have not been able to figure out why my attraction towards them exists seeing as I do not want to be cool myself. But, if I had to choose, my favorite element of cool is the “ability to be nonchalant at the right moment” (Thompson 41). When I think of James Dean, I do not think of him smiling a cheesy smile because someone said they were going to photograph him. I think of his deep, dreamy eyes, relaxed pose, and his minuscule smirk. In fact, it was a rare occasion when a photographer managed to capture James Dean smiling. I think that is cool. He was always composed and looked as if nothing affected him. Even if he was feeling extreme happiness, sadness, or excitement, he always managed to remain composed. I admire this about him and I think this composure adds to his mystique and coolness. Me on the other hand, when someone tells me they are going to take a picture of me, I smile the cheesiest smile.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Another aspect of cool that I find interesting is the balance between life and death. Unlike most people, myself included, cool people acknowledge they are going to die at some point instead of acting like they will live forever. So, they flirt with death. They push the boundaries of living that border with death. Frank Sinatra smoked, Jim Morrison was on drugs, and James Dean drove fast cars and broke speed limits. And sometimes, when they took part in activities that can trigger death, they couldn’t escape it. James Dean was not nicknamed “One-Speed Dean” for no reason. His one speed was fast, and he was going fast enough that he was not able to slow down his car prior to crashing into another vehicle causing him to die. Sometimes when flirting with death, death wins. But at least cool people do not try to outrun death. They accept it with open arms because they acknowledge the fact that one day they will die. It is an inevitable truth humans cannot escape. I think I am still in denial about death, or I haven’t processed the fact that one day I will die no matter how hard I try to avoid it. I act like death doesn’t exist, but when it does occur, it doesn’t affect me. This why I go to the gym, eat kale and quinoa salads, and go to SoulCycle. I am trying to prolong death, as silly as that sounds. This isn’t how cool people act though. I think that I am so focused on trying to outrun death per se, that I am too busy to enjoy life in the current moment. Langston Hughes once wrote, “But for livin’ I was born” in his poem, “Life is Fine” (22). Cool people live their life to the fullest extent. Sometimes they die in the process, but they live their life. I am kind of envious of that. I live life with the thought of death in the back of my mind. I refuse to do certain adventurous things, like bungee jumping, zip-lining, and skydiving because I know it could result in death. After all, you aren’t required to sign a waiver prior to taking part in these activities for nothing. But cool people sign that waiver without blinking an eye. I guess they think of it as a risk worth taking, and I agree with that thought, but saying that and acting upon that thought is two different things. I guess if we don’t take any risks in life we aren’t really living, we are just going through the motions, stuck in a cycle of monotony as T.S. Eliot mentions in his poem, The Waste Land. While I already established I do not want to be cool in its entirety, I would like to be cool in some aspects, like maintaining composure and embracing life because I know I will die. But, I do not wish to rebel, suffer, and be narcissistic. I think I have come to that realization that cool is not meant for me, and that is okay. It is kind of like when W.E.B. Du Bois realized that he “was different from the others” (1). While everyone is different from one another, people are all sheep. Whether I am a black sheep or white sheep, I am still a sheep nonetheless. It is up to each and every person to choose if they blend in with the white sheep or stand out and be the black sheep. Something that stuck with me in Cool Rules: Anatomy of an Attitude was that “cool’s real work is done inside” (22). I do not think cool comes about through the possessions people own. I think that cool is displayed via one’s clothes and attitude. People dress how they want others to perceive them and to cool fashion is art (Pountain and Robins 22). And the way people interact with others, the way they think, and the ideologies they hold are pertinent to cool, in my eyes. And I think to a certain extent, everyone is cool. It is just a matter of if they display their coolness or not.

[nathaniel-g-blog]

What saith the Lord?

“If you extract the precious from the worthless, you will become My spokesman.” 

- Jeremiah 15:19, as cited on the first page of John Bevere’s Thus Saith The Lord? How to know when God is speaking to you through another

“Watch out for fake heads deviled disguised men Arriving from the dawn and spawned with ill forms That'll leave you laying dead in the womb like stillborns” 

- Jedi Mind Tricks, “Heavenly Divine,” from the album Violent by Design

“We must put the DDT which destroys parasites, the bearers of disease, on the same level as the Christian religion which wages war on embryonic heresies and instincts, and on evil as yet unborn.” 

-Frantz Fanon in The Wretched of the Earth

This summer I begged Gillian Rose to tell me what to do. I had learned to disavow the desire to be seen as, to see myself as, a good person. I still wanted to create the conditions under which I could give birth to the person I wanted to be, and I wanted her to show me how. I also prayed. Answers were not forthcoming. Prophecy was contentious in my parents’ church tradition. Was it is about the future or the present? The present in light of the future or the future in light of the present? Was biblical prophecy primarily concerned with things to come or things which have already happened? Perhaps most importantly, how and through whom could God’s will be expressed with the opening qualifier “thus saith the Lord?” One of the first and only theological arguments I had with the woman I married was regarding slavery. I thought Christians should consider themselves slaves, with God as our master. This was non-negotiable. I was God’s property, and that meant desiring earnestly to perform mastery. I couldn’t become God, but I could become his messenger. The thought was enthralling. To desire mastery while insisting that you are a slave. The pleasure of power for those who have disavowed both. The structure of antagonism. I have heard enough parents tell me that they love the children they are abusing to suspect that reality itself is dysphoric. It is not that our desires don’t match onto the desires of others but that, as Paul observed, we do not even want the things we want. Our children, our bodies, our relations do not match themselves or what we think we need from them. We do not understand. Prophecy announced that things are not as they should be. This seemed to match my experience. All that was left to be adjudicated was how things are, how they should be, and the nature of their possible relation. One crude reading was that the way things are is the way we want them to be, the way they should be is how God wants them to be, and the nature of their relation is submission. I didn’t know anyone who wanted things to be the way they are. If we wanted to want something different, we had to remember that God had ordained the world as it actually was. Everything defined by its opposite, non-identical even with itself. The split in reality as the contest between what God wants and what we want. Sometimes the only way to know what God wants is to work backwards, to counterpose what we think as its obvious opposite. What do we actually want? This remains a mystery because our only concern is what God wants. The split exists as a projection, not covering over an underlying unity but positing one, the hope that we can once for all rid the world of its instability, that God can rid us of ourselves. We only wanted the things that God wanted; as it turned out we did not want anything at all. This year I realized that some patterns of life had been or become unlivable. I needed something different. I needed a word from God. Several people in my life had been preparing for such an opportunity, they wanted to encourage me and tell me that God did not want me to be miserable, but also to clarify that the way to be happy was more fully renouncing myself. I felt I had nothing left to renounce but was willing to try. Turn to God, turn away from yourself. But where was God to be found? Not anywhere on heaven or earth, it seemed. God was there, and if you didn’t suspend your powers of judgment and seek an illegible martyrdom, you would be sorry. But I already was. They insisted on a relationship with this God while implicitly asserting its impossibility. Accept the logically unacceptable. Raging against and insisting upon the permanence of melancholy. So lonely with this god, with no escape. This weekend I was in a basement looking for a Casio, looking to express feelings I didn’t understand on an instrument I understood even less. I stopped cold when I saw again the cover to the Manchester Orchestra album I'm Like a Virgin Losing a Child. It stopped me in my tracks as I remembered. Two things in particular I remember about that album: 1) the songs all sort of sound the same because they sort of are 2) listening and being sad about everything, about what I was and what I wasn’t, feeling loss and guilt without the pleasure of newness or promise, like my situation was indescribably special. It wasn’t, but I didn’t know that. I barely knew I had a situation. The way I came to recognize it was in misrecognizing the pain. I began with that album to mourn my inability to mourn. I felt I needed something else, and I did. The woman on that cover looks like she needs a word from the Lord, but might be the only person in the room, besides the camera.

“The archival photograph is a time-stamped, carceral text.”- Zoé Samudzi

This weekend I thought about prophecy and remembered Bevere’s book. Its basic argument is that if we do not learn to separate true from false, we will not know what God is saying, and without a vision we will perish. It is thick with talk of eradicating disease, pollutants, corruption, defilement; the story of Hagar and Ishmael is a metaphor for the ontological split between promise and flesh, or between the flesh which does or does not possess promise. Christians in Bevere’s account should be the paradigmatic racial scientists. A Christianity premised on distinctions, which can ultimately make none; Christianity as the police.

In 2005 Jus Allah released his solo debut album All Fates Have Changed. I found it enthralling. He opens by declaring that he is “beyond measure” and “supreme authority over the universe.” That felt good to sing along with, even though I knew he wasn’t talking about me. I was a young white dude in Manchester,New Hampshire, but I could pretend. He was “a runaway slave with back scars” and an “immaculate being.” The white devils who hurt him would come to be sorry. He promised to “release aggression…explode like atomic weapons…Go into deep spells of demonic possession.” He has words for all his enemies: “Y'all corny motherfuckers sound repetitive, it’s safe to say, I'm the smartest man that's ever lived. I am negative, I will kill a relative.” What else is Jus Allah? “pure darkness, sparkless, glitterless, imageless, but still infinitely limitless… placed on the planet just to cause problems… from the master race exactly, God of the planet, boss of the factory.” He is contradictory. He tells us that tomorrow never comes, and why it cannot: “My stomach got young dead orphans in it; I eat from trash cans at abortion clinics.”

“the blackened-not-blackened fetus is stuck—suspended between a blackness whose freedom cannot commence and cannot be withstood, a blackness that cannot be born and cannot be borne.” -Jared Sexton

Prophecy is the negotiation of power and knowledge which shape conditions for life in the world. Prophecy can be a matter of opening or closing possibilities. I do not want to undersell the apparent strangeness of the behaviors at the church services where I met God, nor the extent to which this strangeness was performance of a denial of difference. You could speak up in protest, directed towards the Other outside and in yourself. In the end, every word from God must be an affirmation, an encouragement.  

This essay is not about prophecy but about my relation to it. I grew up knowing that meaning implies domination, and that man’s search for it required acceptance of roles of master and slave, of Man, that to resist domination required an end to the possibility of even provisional meaning. Prophecy could be a way of ensuring that everyone can live or determining who must not. The prophecy to which I found myself attracted was an aborted negativity. Negativity insofar as it recognized that things were wrong, but a negativity which ultimately aspired to be content with itself as God, to a heavenly place in the world whose gates could eventually be shut. Negativity as the problem which required the promise of prophecy to solve.

Prophecy was a way of denying the obvious: “a disaster's a disaster no matter what Christian language you drag it through.” It was like my divorce: a split produced by the desire for wholeness and the repression of an originary split. One thing I knew for sure was that I shouldn’t follow my own agenda, but instead God’s. One thing I could not have known is that God did not have one, and neither did I, and that if I could not have the split I thought I wanted, I could at least try to know the one I had.

“Our historic mission is to sanction all revolts, all desperate actions, all those abortive attempts drowned in rivers of blood.” -Frantz Fanon

How was I to know when God’s agenda came to earth? “Your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams.” As a young child I was haunted by night terrors. Animals at night, outside my window, usually on the neighbor’s roof. I could not resist looking out the window at them. I was not afraid of what they would do to me. They just watched. I was afraid of them because of what they knew. White nightmares. I could not rest.

Everyone knows that immaculate conceptions are impossible, that they are only possible with God, and that the eventual experience of premature death is really another part of his plan. When something feels wrong, you may want a word from God. But prophecy is like an army of locusts. Who can endure it?

(What helped me write this: Amaryah Armstrong, Alex Haley, Gil Anidjar, other readers of Lacan)  

[erraticfairy]

Now That You Know: 10 Tips for Surviving Infidelity

You can get through this.

When you first find out about your spouse’s infidelity, the pain of betrayal is unlike anything else you’ve ever experienced. You may not even be sure yet if you’re interested in surviving infidelity; you may only feel the pain of find out that your partner has been cheating on you. And while you’re reeling from the new of the affair, you understandably aren’t even sure if you know how to deal with your husband or wife being a cheater yet.

And that’s totally OK.

If you recently discovered your spouse cheated and you are still roiling from the shock, you might feel despair about whether surviving infidelity is even possible. No doubt you feel unprepared for the emotional tumult even if you’ve suspected the cheating for a long time.

As devastating as it is, from here you have to figure out how to get on with your life and meet the challenge of surviving infidelity.

What do you do next?

Now that you know the truth of the affair — whether it was physical or emotional infidelity — you can get a head start on surviving infidelity.

Here are 10 tips for how you can overcome the pain of your spouse’s betrayal and survive infidelity:

1. Don’t Underestimate the Shock You’ll Experience.

There’s a world of difference between having suspicions and knowing. The belief that cheating happens only to other people, and certainly not to a loving partner like you, can keep you inside a bubble of denial for a long time.

The shock of discovering an affair is a big deal. Your world turns upside down; you feel shaken to the core and flooded by strong emotions that you’re afraid might overwhelm you. You wonder if you’ll ever feel like yourself again. Be assured that you will, but it’ll take time, a support network, and large doses of self-care to get you through. Surviving infidelity is not for sissies.

It would be normal to feel panicky, enraged, and confused. You might find it hard to eat or sleep. In stressful times like this, the hormones adrenaline and cortisol race through your body, making it difficult to focus or function. Fortunately, there are some things you can do right away to start to feel a little better.

2. Breathe.

No, really. Take a deep breath, and then another and another.

Your breath will be your ally and will never leave you. Slow deep breathing relieves stress and anxiety by calming their physiological effect on your nervous system. Breathing slowly and mindfully activates the hypothalamus, connected to the pituitary gland in the brain, to send neurohormones that inhibit stress-producing hormones and trigger a relaxation response in the body.

Breathe every time the shock resurfaces. It will help to calm your nervous system.

3. Expect a Tsunami of Strong Emotions.

You will feel a whole range of feelings, some of them contradictory, and some of them all at once. It can be disorienting and confusing.

Anger, betrayal, rage, confusion, sadness, insecurity, revenge, fear, a feeling of abandonment, and grief will sweep through you like wildfire. Allow yourself to feel those feelings; there is no benefit in avoiding them. You don’t have to rush the process of surviving infidelity.

Why Infidelity Is So Painful to the Betrayed Spouse

4. Enlist the Support of Two Confidants.

Reach out to a trusted friend, minister, counselor, or teacher for support. Be selective and choose someone who will protect your confidentiality, listen, and has good judgment. Talking to someone about what happened is a big step in the healing process for surviving infidelity.

5. Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman (or Man) Scorned.

Anger, hurt pride, rage, and other strong emotions propel people to act in ways they might later regret. Your impulse to hurt your partner and get revenge is instinctive. You might want to call their boss, parents, best friend, colleagues to tell them what a jerk they really are.

You’ll want to stalk and troll and rip the face off the person they were with.

While these actions might provide immediate gratification (and revenge can be sweet), they have the potential to create collateral damage and magnify the problem, especially if you decide to stay with your spouse. Remind yourself again and again that the infidelity is between the two of you and no one else.

6. Think Long and Hard Before You Involve Your Family.

Remember, blood is thicker than water. Your family will be loyal to you and angry with your spouse. They will take your side and hold the cheating against your spouse.

And though you probably can’t fathom it now, if you decide to stay married, your family may not be able to forgive them let alone forget. In the long run, involving family can make surviving infidelity even more difficult.

7. Don’t Make Any Big Decisions.

You need to right yourself before you make any big decisions. Strong emotions cloud rational thinking.

Keep changes in your life to a minimum. Stay firmly planted in your home, don’t file for divorce or custody of the kids, or quit your job.

Make no big decisions, financial, or otherwise.

8. Keep the Kids Out of It.

This situation is between you and your spouse. Resist your instinct to show your kids what a lout their parent is. Remember they are and will always be your kids’ parent. Research on good parenting recommends that you shield your kids from adult matters that they are developmentally unprepared to understand or manage.

Finding True Love after a Broken Heart Leaves You Feeling Hopeless

9. The Only Way Through It Is to Grieve.

Your relationship has lost its innocence in that you probably believed your partner was the one person you could count on in the world, no matter what. Their actions shattered this belief and you feel betrayed. Some find getting past this betrayal the toughest part of surviving infidelity and getting past it.

You will go through what Elizabeth Kubler Ross identified as the five stages of grief. These stages include denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Ross identified the five stages as a pattern of adjustment experienced by people when they face their imminent death. Subsequent research revealed that people who have lost a loved one by death, divorce, or disease also go through the five stages of the healing process.

The grief process is not linear and no person experiences it in the exact same way. You may skip a stage or revisit a stage you thought you had successfully navigated. For instance, don’t be surprised if the anger you thought you got over, comes back with a vengeance at a family wedding, or the night it dawns on you that on your 40th birthday, your husband wasn’t really on a business trip, but at a hotel in the next town.

When you experience a relapse, you might become skeptical about whether surviving infidelity is possible. If your emotions are overwhelming or you sink into a deep depression which renders you unable to function in your day-to-day life, you should seek professional help. Counseling, medication, or a combination of both can be helpful.

10. Surviving Infidelity Takes Time.

Have faith that you will feel better. You’ll know you’re healing when you have one good day and then good days start to outnumber the bad days. And then one day, when you least expect it, the fog lifts and you feel like yourself again. You might even pat yourself on the back for surviving infidelity and catch a glimpse of a time soon when you’ll begin to thrive again.

At the end of this up-and-down, painful process, you can feel proud that you have handled yourself with dignity and taken good care of yourself. You will have discovered a deeper level of self-reliance. And that is no small thing.

This guest article originally appeared on YourTango.com: Now That You Know They Cheated – 10 Tips for Surviving Infidelity.

from World of Psychology http://bit.ly/2SFSGho via theshiningmind.com

[psychotherapyconsultants]

Now That You Know: 10 Tips for Surviving Infidelity

You can get through this.

When you first find out about your spouse’s infidelity, the pain of betrayal is unlike anything else you’ve ever experienced. You may not even be sure yet if you’re interested in surviving infidelity; you may only feel the pain of find out that your partner has been cheating on you. And while you’re reeling from the new of the affair, you understandably aren’t even sure if you know how to deal with your husband or wife being a cheater yet.

And that’s totally OK.

If you recently discovered your spouse cheated and you are still roiling from the shock, you might feel despair about whether surviving infidelity is even possible. No doubt you feel unprepared for the emotional tumult even if you’ve suspected the cheating for a long time.

As devastating as it is, from here you have to figure out how to get on with your life and meet the challenge of surviving infidelity.

What do you do next?

Now that you know the truth of the affair — whether it was physical or emotional infidelity — you can get a head start on surviving infidelity.

Here are 10 tips for how you can overcome the pain of your spouse’s betrayal and survive infidelity:

1. Don’t Underestimate the Shock You’ll Experience.

There’s a world of difference between having suspicions and knowing. The belief that cheating happens only to other people, and certainly not to a loving partner like you, can keep you inside a bubble of denial for a long time.

The shock of discovering an affair is a big deal. Your world turns upside down; you feel shaken to the core and flooded by strong emotions that you’re afraid might overwhelm you. You wonder if you’ll ever feel like yourself again. Be assured that you will, but it’ll take time, a support network, and large doses of self-care to get you through. Surviving infidelity is not for sissies.

It would be normal to feel panicky, enraged, and confused. You might find it hard to eat or sleep. In stressful times like this, the hormones adrenaline and cortisol race through your body, making it difficult to focus or function. Fortunately, there are some things you can do right away to start to feel a little better.

2. Breathe.

No, really. Take a deep breath, and then another and another.

Your breath will be your ally and will never leave you. Slow deep breathing relieves stress and anxiety by calming their physiological effect on your nervous system. Breathing slowly and mindfully activates the hypothalamus, connected to the pituitary gland in the brain, to send neurohormones that inhibit stress-producing hormones and trigger a relaxation response in the body.

Breathe every time the shock resurfaces. It will help to calm your nervous system.

3. Expect a Tsunami of Strong Emotions.

You will feel a whole range of feelings, some of them contradictory, and some of them all at once. It can be disorienting and confusing.

Anger, betrayal, rage, confusion, sadness, insecurity, revenge, fear, a feeling of abandonment, and grief will sweep through you like wildfire. Allow yourself to feel those feelings; there is no benefit in avoiding them. You don’t have to rush the process of surviving infidelity.

Why Infidelity Is So Painful to the Betrayed Spouse

4. Enlist the Support of Two Confidants.

Reach out to a trusted friend, minister, counselor, or teacher for support. Be selective and choose someone who will protect your confidentiality, listen, and has good judgment. Talking to someone about what happened is a big step in the healing process for surviving infidelity.

5. Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman (or Man) Scorned.

Anger, hurt pride, rage, and other strong emotions propel people to act in ways they might later regret. Your impulse to hurt your partner and get revenge is instinctive. You might want to call their boss, parents, best friend, colleagues to tell them what a jerk they really are.

You’ll want to stalk and troll and rip the face off the person they were with.

While these actions might provide immediate gratification (and revenge can be sweet), they have the potential to create collateral damage and magnify the problem, especially if you decide to stay with your spouse. Remind yourself again and again that the infidelity is between the two of you and no one else.

6. Think Long and Hard Before You Involve Your Family.

Remember, blood is thicker than water. Your family will be loyal to you and angry with your spouse. They will take your side and hold the cheating against your spouse.

And though you probably can’t fathom it now, if you decide to stay married, your family may not be able to forgive them let alone forget. In the long run, involving family can make surviving infidelity even more difficult.

7. Don’t Make Any Big Decisions.

You need to right yourself before you make any big decisions. Strong emotions cloud rational thinking.

Keep changes in your life to a minimum. Stay firmly planted in your home, don’t file for divorce or custody of the kids, or quit your job.

Make no big decisions, financial, or otherwise.

8. Keep the Kids Out of It.

This situation is between you and your spouse. Resist your instinct to show your kids what a lout their parent is. Remember they are and will always be your kids’ parent. Research on good parenting recommends that you shield your kids from adult matters that they are developmentally unprepared to understand or manage.

Finding True Love after a Broken Heart Leaves You Feeling Hopeless

9. The Only Way Through It Is to Grieve.

Your relationship has lost its innocence in that you probably believed your partner was the one person you could count on in the world, no matter what. Their actions shattered this belief and you feel betrayed. Some find getting past this betrayal the toughest part of surviving infidelity and getting past it.

You will go through what Elizabeth Kubler Ross identified as the five stages of grief. These stages include denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Ross identified the five stages as a pattern of adjustment experienced by people when they face their imminent death. Subsequent research revealed that people who have lost a loved one by death, divorce, or disease also go through the five stages of the healing process.

The grief process is not linear and no person experiences it in the exact same way. You may skip a stage or revisit a stage you thought you had successfully navigated. For instance, don’t be surprised if the anger you thought you got over, comes back with a vengeance at a family wedding, or the night it dawns on you that on your 40th birthday, your husband wasn’t really on a business trip, but at a hotel in the next town.

When you experience a relapse, you might become skeptical about whether surviving infidelity is possible. If your emotions are overwhelming or you sink into a deep depression which renders you unable to function in your day-to-day life, you should seek professional help. Counseling, medication, or a combination of both can be helpful.

10. Surviving Infidelity Takes Time.

Have faith that you will feel better. You’ll know you’re healing when you have one good day and then good days start to outnumber the bad days. And then one day, when you least expect it, the fog lifts and you feel like yourself again. You might even pat yourself on the back for surviving infidelity and catch a glimpse of a time soon when you’ll begin to thrive again.

At the end of this up-and-down, painful process, you can feel proud that you have handled yourself with dignity and taken good care of yourself. You will have discovered a deeper level of self-reliance. And that is no small thing.

This guest article originally appeared on YourTango.com: Now That You Know They Cheated – 10 Tips for Surviving Infidelity.

from World of Psychology https://psychcentral.com/blog/now-that-you-know-10-tips-for-surviving-infidelity/

[hisourart-blog]

Anti-genre

New Post has been published on https://hisour.com/art/anti-genre/

Anti-genre

The etymology of the term anti-genre borrows its semantic form the terms anti- meaning against and genre, (French "kind," related to the English "gender") A genre may be defined “only by those of its charac­ teristics that have differentiating value,” as a bundle of distinctive traits defined in opposition to other such bundles, thus receiving its value from its place within a generic system of oppositions. The elementary traits which make up a genre may enter into the composition of any number of other genres and a series of genres may have several traits in common. The anti-genre of discursive systems have not been studied in the same way or to the same degree as the genre of languages, but the number of such traits in any system must be relatively small when compared to the essentially infinite field of discursive variations. The distinctive traits constitutive of genres vary from one discursive tradition to another, as will the set of genres they combine to create. Anti-genre is a new group formed with the purpose of connecting who don’t fall into typical “genre” fiction categories. Anti-genre don’t fall into other popular genre categories. They not only entertain, they also challenge us by making a statement about the world we live in. [pt_view id="53c7ae3stn"] Anti-genre is a self-descriptive label attributed to any artistic style devoid of genre. This lack of genre-status can either be the result of: (1) an active attempt to evade categorization (transcend all genres), (2) conscious negation of the ethos of its medium (unlearning of history), (3) an active and conscious negation of itself. The anti-genre is not simply an assault on tradition (previous artistic styles), for every anti-thesis in history would then fall under this title. The anti-genre, rather implies a more direct and nihilistic attack on the foundations of its medium. The anti-genre is in a perpetual state of evasion both from external taxonomy, but also from itself. The artistic movement known as Dada is likely the best example of the anti-genre, although the Dada manifestos of Hugo Ball and Tristan Tzara never use the term 'anti-genre' to describe Dada, DADA DOES NOT MEAN ANYTHING. Every man must shout: there is great destructive, negative work to be done. To sweep, to clean. Dada means nothing... Thought is produced in the mouth. Each genre will be distinguished from every other genre by at least one trait, but no single trait will distinguish a genre from all other genres. Genre suffers from the same ills of any classification system. Genre is to be reassessed and scrutinized and to weigh works on their unique merit. It has been suggested that genres resonate with people because of the familiarity, the shorthand communication, as well as the tendency of genres to shift with public mores and to reflect the zeitgeist. While the genre of storytelling has been relegated as lesser form of art because of the heavily borrowed nature of the conventions, admiration has grown. Proponents argue that the genius of an effective genre piece is in the variation, recombination, and evolution of the codes. Anti-genre Music: The best example of the anti-genre in music is John Cage's 1952 composition 4′33″, in which the entire performance consists of four and a half minutes of utter silence. The musicians are instructed not to play their instruments. All the audience can hear is the sound of themselves. In this famous and controversial piece, John Cage presents silence as the antithesis of music. Thus, the absence of all audible content becomes music's anti-genre. There are, however other examples. If music is the artistic arrangement of sound, then the non-artistic arrangement of sound might be a suitable candidate for musical-negation. Non-music becomes noise, rather than artful melody and rhythm. Examples of noise music range from guitar-based feedback recordings and live performances (The Melvins, Nine Inch Nails, Jimi Hendrix) to the screeching sounds of Screamo, Grindcore, industrial music or contemporary dance electronic styles like Gabber, Terrorcore, Breakcore, Glitch, etc. Indeed, the entire ethos of the Punk subculture was based on nihilism, which by its very nature seeks category annihilation. Examples in Literature: The anti-genre, in literature, comes into being in particular during the mid to late 19th century. Both Fyodor Dostoyevsky's 1864 novel Notes from Underground, with his introduction of the anti-hero (referred to as the Underground Man) as well as Friedrich Nietzsche's The Antichrist published in 1895, represent early works in the tradition. For Dostoyevsky's underground man, all the virtues of the traditional protagonist (the hero) are turned upside down. Rather than courageous he is weak and complains of both physical pain as well as deeper (more existential) angst. Rather than altruism and chivalry he feels vengeance and spite towards others. Dostoyevsky's underground man introduces to western literature the archetype of the anti-hero. His early work also attacks the positivists of the Enlightenment era, thereby strengthening the case against utopian optimism. The introduction of the anti-hero combined with his dystopian proposal, represent more of a soft anti-genre status rather than the more technical definition of the term. For Nietzsche, the task of overcoming history required a grand declaration of war. His enemies were many: In the last sane year of his life he was able to complete two final texts, Twilight of the Idols and The Anti-Christ. More technical examples of the anti-genre in literature might include meta-fiction or aleatoricism, but there is lack of contemporary scholarship on the topic to resolve this matter definitively. Examples in Computer Science: The most technical description of the paradox of the anti-genre can be found in computer science. In computer programming an infinite loop is often an un-intended result (bug) of circular self-reference in the program code. For example, the Dada artist's eternal maxim declares, Dada had only one rule: Never follow any rules. If we (hypothetically) run this maxim through a recursive computer algorithm, it would cause program error. For, if Dada does not obey this rule then Dada would be free to follow any rules (a direct refutation of this maxim), but if it obeys this maxim then there is at least one rule which it is following (a contradiction). In the language of computer programming this is fatal (it prevents an exit condition from being met) but for the artist this might be the ultimate goal of his/her art. Hard versus Soft: The technical definition of anti-genre (hard version) is not merely art that insults its predecessors. The hard version is more active in its flight from meaning. It is self-consciously involved in the process of not just breaking with tradition but undoing the entire framework that distinguishes the different genre categories in that medium. Silence in place of music and the blank canvas in place of paint, are two obvious examples of this. The soft version however, is a little harder to nail down. The definition of a soft anti-genre might include art intentionally dispensing with conventions of its medium or violently breaking with tradition by subversion, vandalism-art, irrationality, self-defeat or other strategies in a rebellious spirit. The problem with this lighter version of anti-genre is that all artistic movements by definition represent a decisive break with the traditions that came before them. If not, then they would merely be continuous with their predecessors. This is known as the process of dialectic. First, a thesis is proposed. Then the thesis is rejected by the anti-thesis. This rejection is eventually accepted by the community and a synthesis of thesis and anti-thesis come together to create the new proposal ready for rejection. And so the cycle continues. It is important to emphasize the hard and soft distinction however because there is a tendency in postmodernity to associate negative/rebellious attitudes in artistic movements with formal categories like anti-genre, despite the fact that the anti-genre, in its hard version, has a much more technical definition. Paradox of the Anti-Genre: Is the anti-genre itself a genre? This poses a problem. For, if it is a genre, then it does not exist but if it is not a genre then no discussion of it as a coherent entity can take place. The anti-genre therefore suffers from an identity crisis. Of course, nothing would make the anti-genre more happy than to deny its own existence. By referencing a negation of itself in its own definition, anti-genre achieves a contradictory truth status (both true and false at the same time). This happens any time that the definition of the word in question (or interpretation of the sentence in question) is a denial of its own meaning. For example, The statement in this box is false. When it is true (that it is false) it becomes a negation of itself. It cannot be both true and false at the same time. The anti-genre suffers from this same type of self-annihilation. But, although this might pose a problem for a symbolic logician or software engineer, it poses no problem for the anti-artist. The goal of the artist working in their respective anti-genre is to evade genre-classification. Thus, the inability of their category to hold down a definition becomes an asset rather than a liability. What is the logical conclusion of an artistic movement that is essentially suicidal? After annihilating everything in their path, every artistic style and movement that had come before them, every political attitude and social value, the DaDa artist eventually had nothing left to consume and so retired to a life of seclusion and chess. Likewise, and for all of his proselytizing (calling for a complete transvaluation of all human values), Nietzsche ended his life deep inside a state of mental illness. And so it is not uncommon to hear writers lament that the only cure for history is a good psychiatrist and a lot of prescription medicine.

[swoocrew]

First paper i’ve written in years. Just posting here for record keeping

Exploring the elements of Borderlands (1987)[1](A)

    The basic premise of Anzaldua’s work is that all dichotomies are unnatural (1987:3) and that there exists a beautiful and bountiful presence between binaries and dichotomies of all kinds. The most aggressively present manifestation of this is the U.S./E.U.-Mexico border itself, partially securitized in 1987 but lacking the now distinctive imagery of dominating fences and barriers that define the visual makeup of the region today. Anzaldua argues that this division separates the mestizo people from fully occupying their ancestral homeland of Aztlan (1987:4). This unnatural division creates conflict, the blood of that conflict soaking into the character of the earth and creating a new people, a new world that exists in opposition to the U.S.-Mexico binary, La Frontera (1987:3). This return to and the creation of a neo-Aztlanian people makes up “El Retorno”(Anzaldua 1987:11) or the idea that the Mexica people have always been drawn back to Aztlan. The inexorable drive to survive by the neo-Mexica, los Mestizo has them willing go to this dangerous and constantly in flux region, to risk it all for a chance to make a little cash to send back home or to escape the hopelessness of extreme poverty (Anzaldua 1987: 11,12); they seek to return home even if they will be labeled as pigs and sinners in the face of Anglo capitalists, knowing full well that they too unlawfully invaded in to “take” what was theirs some 200 odd years ago (Anzaldua 1987: 6,7)  

However this sense of danger extends beyond only the political borderlands and impacts the barriers between cultural norms and practices as well; it is within this cultural space that Anzaldua (1987) spends much of the work, even within the culture of the Chicano itself there are the transgressors and cultural lepers, victims of a double or triple bind caught between dichotomies of all sorts. In critiquing these cultural dichotomies and exposing their contradictory nature Anzaldua(1987) furthers the idea that all divisions are an unnatural state. The most powerful cultural binary explored is that between man and woman, masculino y femenino and of course what happens to those who fall into neither; the Chicano culture creates the idea of the “Good Woman” (Anzaldua 1987:17) which is epitomized by the objectification and deification of La Virgen De Guadalupe and the rejection of La Malinche, La Chingada, the whore, the fucked one; the binary between the two is used as a tool to establish male control, authorizing the use of force, ostracization and more to subdue La Chingada and bring back at least the visage of La Virgen by force(Anzaldua 1987:16,17,18) ; the true tragedy of this is that the split between La Malinche y La Virgen is relatively recent, a product of the rent soul of Coatlalopeuh, the snake woman and the primordial spirit of mesoamerican femininity(Anzaldua 1987: 27); The subjugation of and rending of the spirit of the snake and by extension of the woman began long before the arrival of the Castilians, with the “male dominated Azteca-Mexica culture” (Anzaldua 1987: 27) splitting her into the light Tonantsi and the dark Coatlicue Tlazolteotl y Cihuacoatl; the arrival of the Castilian invaders hastened the split as they “desexed Tonantsi/Coatlalopeuh” (Anzaldua 1987: 27), making Guadalupe into La Virgen and the rest of the snake aspects into Chingadas; creating a new dichotomy for women that  works to create guilt in those who embrace the whole possibility space. The Castilian invasion also brought along with it a rigid and fecundity focused heteronormative gender binary, creating a fear of those that would not procreate I.E the Homosexual, the Trans, the Genderqueer; this view of sexuality and gender also extends to Anzaldua’s (1987 : 19) idea of “Mita y Mita” or half and half where the possibility space for women is so constricted by the institutionalization of the Virgin-Whore dichotomy that some women “choose” to become more masculine or to be a lesbian (Anzaldua 1987: 19) to rebel, to feed the dark side of the serpent forgotten by time; this idea also presents a rejection of the gender binary stating that contradictory aspects can coexist in a single soul, and that the existence of binary restricts every single member within the community by not allowing them to accept all aspects of their true self.

Once again the concept of a rigid binary pops up when Anzaldua turns her pen towards the language used by the people of neo-Aztlan. Anzaldua embraces that she can blend the Castilian and the Anglo-Saxon to create something new unto itself Chicano Spanglish (Anzaldua 1987: 55). This new dialect is manipulated by the binary focused Anglo elites in order to shame the Chicano of their heritage and promote the erasure of the “unnatural” Chicano state of being, primarily through education where Chicano students are taught that they speak “bad English” (Anzaldua 1987: 53,54). Chicano  as a tongue is also used to control the norms within the community, with the use of language in public becoming a male coded action and women being robbed of their voice (Anzaldua 1987: 54). This combines to declare that for a Chicana to speak is the ultimate flippancy to the respective elites in each culture, creating that which both Chicanos and Elite whites fear, an empowered, active and aware Chicana.

The Application of Borderlands to my own life (B)

Almost every arrow in Anzaldua’s salvo strikes true at my heart. Most saliently amongst these points is the discussion of homophobia and heteronormativity in la cultura, being a bisexual Latino I’ve seen and tackled some of these issues head on, I’ve heard the venom in their voices, the denial and doublespeak, the actions against helping us. It becomes abundantly clear that I much like Anzaldua(1987:19) have a “homophobia, a fear of going home”, knowing that if I go home out as myself then there will be no home to go back to. Simply reading the title promotes an intense and visceral reaction deep in my soul, the putrid soup composed of internalized homophobia, self preservatory fear and desire to fit in.  I also relate to sense of oppression and vitriol that my native tongue brings upon myself from the Anglo population; being of fair skin I experience the dramatic shift that the tongue we brought from Aragon causes in the Anglo-Saxon population. The immediate shift from being one of them to being an outsider is swift and merciless. This combines with my heritage to Mexico and my sexuality to form a quadruple consciousness (DuBois 1903), making me aware of and partially experiential to the experience of the white Anglo Saxon elite, painfully and utterly aware of how they see me because of my sexuality, because of my ethnicity, and how my own people see me for much the same reasons. I end up finding myself wondering If those tastes of white privilege compounded with my other privileges in life leave me unable to accurately ascertain the situation of or help my supposed compatriots (Scott-Heron 1970). I live my life navigating through the flux, hoping to find a place with low enough turbulence to simply relax, knowing that in a world composed of binaries I have no true home but the one I carve from the stone face of the earth in the borderlands.

Works Cited

Anzaldúa, Gloria. 1987. Borderlands -: La frontera. San Francisco, CA: Aunt Lute Books.

DuBois, William Edward Burghardt. 1903. The souls of Black folk. Chicago: A.C McClurg & Co. .

Gil Scott-Heron. n.d. A New Black Poet - Small Talk at 125th and Lenox Track: Comment #1. 125th and Lenox Av [Now Malcolm X Blvd], New York, New York.

Footnotes

[1] - The 2nd Edition of Borderlands is used in the creation of this paper

[a-wandering-fool]

From the article:  (a long post but worth the read)

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In my last blog post I noted my fascination with sex: specifically, how sex expresses an element of human nature which disproves the supremacy of economic theory.

And I also note that Utopians (such as Marxists and Socialists) fundamentally want to change human nature–either by changing the culture, or the conditions on which we interact with others, in order to create their Utopian vision of the world.

Now an obvious consequence of this idea is that any economic theory which runs headlong against human nature must yield to human nature. Meaning if an economic theory requires changing human nature to implement properly, that theory is broken. And any economic theory which requires limits to human nature will ultimately yield–as the qualities of human nature run very deep.

But this doesn’t stop people from trying to change human nature anyway. And, interestingly enough, when Marxists and Socialists and Utopian Idealists attempt to tackle human nature in order to create a better world–well, some of them don’t stop with economics.

For example, Friedrich Engels believed that prior to the invention of “capitalism”, humans existed in a state of “original promiscuity”:

During the state of “original promiscuity”, to use Engels’ phrase, where within the tribe every women belonged to every man, and every man to every woman, some kind of “mother right” inevitably existed. As all certainty of paternity was excluded in this situation, descent or lineage could only be reckoned through the female line. This must have been universal. Given that mothers were the only ascertainable parents of the children, women were treated with a high degree of respect, and even reverence.

His belief was that as capitalism was invented, women’s sexual promiscuity was limited to a form of property ownership–and eventually we arrive at the monogamous relationships we see today in the form of families and marriages.

This line of reasoning suggests strongly that the path to a Marxist/Socialist “Utopia” must naturally abolish the marital unit, and return us to this “original promiscuity”, where, in essence, more people will be having more sex with more partners.

(This will naturally lead to those orgy rooms at the local airport where you can get your rocks off if you’ve got a few minutes to kill–courtesy of the State, of course.)

Note that the article I linked to defends this position, despite confessing:

While modern anthropological evidence does not bear out this sequence…

Of course “while”, related to the conjunction “but”, exists to negate the truthful observation, because of course today’s family structure must be negated if we wish to move towards a more perfect (*ahem*) union.

This is not just theory, by the way. Social and Sexual Revolution: from Marx to Reich and Back

The social revolution is only a prerequisite (and not a sufficient condition) for the sexual revolution, but [Wilhelm] Reich believed that recognition of their close relationship, particularly among the young, helped to develop consciousness of the need for both revolutions. With the exception of Character Analysis (1934), which psychoanalysts still regard as a classic in their field, and a few related articles, Reich’s early work was devoted almost entirely to the attainment of such a consciousness.

Not content to debate his ideas, in 1929 Reich organized the Socialist Society of Sexual Advice and Sexual Research. A half dozen clinics were set up in poor sections of Vienna, where working-class people were not only helped with their emotional problems but urged to draw the political lessons which come from recognizing the social roots of these problems.

We also have in the United States in the late 1800’s a phase of “utopian communities”, where groups of people would go off, buy cheap land, and set up shop to try out their Utopian ideals, based either on the Bible or on the Utopian ideals coming out of Europe–including those of the Communists and Socialists who thought capitalism was somehow “unnatural” or “imperfect.”

The Oneida Community started as a Christian Perfectionist movement, who believed that communalism (that is, the communal ownership of property and possessions) was a more “perfect” expression of humanity’s Godly state. (The difference between Communists and Perfectionists have to do with the belief if swimming towards perfection is an upstream swim, or a downstream swim. But the end-result is the same: an ideal state of Utopian Perfection which everyone cooperates in a state of supposed natural harmony.)

They were rather explicit about their desire to change human sexuality–and practiced “free love” (a term actually coined by the founder of the community), explicitly frowned upon possessiveness and exclusivity, and where women over 40 were expected to tutor adolescent boys on the mysteries of sex. The community ultimately fell apart because human nature runs very deep–and all that is left of the Oneida community is the silverware and flatware company the community started to pay its operating expenses.

Now of course Utopians of all stripes would deny that they are trying to reshape human nature–and seek very long and hard to find a logical reason why the current state of affairs (especially with respect to human sexuality) is in fact unnatural. But even as they fail to find evidence for their beliefs, they continue to push for this change.

Let’s be very clear.

I am a strong believer in self-expression. That’s because at the bottom of my ontological stack I believe in the primacy of the individual. I believe an inherent element of human nature is our desire to express ourself, and to create a zone of comfort around ourselves where we can have find some degree of safety and stability. I believe you can see this instinctual desire expressed in nature, in other animals: birds, for example, seem driven to build nests that are expressive but also secure and warm.

It’s why discussions of Marxist Feminist theory and Gender-Fluid expressions such as this give me such a blinding headache: because the amount of theoretical machinery folks like this need to build in order to arrive at the idea that we should be free to express ourselves is overwhelming and sometimes contradictory–just as contradictory as early histories of the Marxist movement towards LGBT rights in the early 1900’s, and the later repression of LGBT rights in Stalin’s Soviet Union.

Instead, it seems far simpler to me to simply suggest that human nature being what it is, we all have the right to self-expression that isn’t an explicit call to credible violence–and we should all afford each other the room to express ourselves–be it through a genderqueer expression involving promiscuity and bisexual relationships, or through a traditional heterosexual monogamous marriage.

But my point is not about how we express ourselves or the wishes and desires we express.

It’s about the explicit denial of the depth of human nature that theoreticians of all bents engage in–from Marxist and the Oneida Perfectionists to people like Economist Alfred Marshall, who posited that “the need for private property reaches no deeper than the qualities of human nature.”

Human nature being what it is–and the inner turmoil many of us have between the desire to have more expressive sexual encounters and our desire for greater social stability–it is not a surprise to me that theoreticians who seek to change human nature in order to create an economic Utopia don’t stop with economics.

After all, who in their early 20’s haven’t looked at a more libertine expression of human sexuality without some sense of desire?

But human nature runs very deep indeed–and even in primitive societies and societies with deeply foreign cultures and ancient practices that strike us as utterly unfamiliar and completely foreign, aspects of human sexual nature–such as jealousy or longing or seeking a single partner and confidant, or creating stability and encouraging success for our children–remain strikingly familiar to us all.

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