#thought crime isnt real but its not thought crime anymore once you write it!!!!

[hamingo]

Yall I had a whoooole rant drafted up in the tags of an RPF poll but I decided not to post it because I am growing as a person and not going to be mean and judgy to strangers online :)

[conservativetranny]

2020 blog update

Hello. No idea if any of you ‘remember’ me but I do seem to have a fair few followers on here. I managed to access the login information for this account and it is safe to say this blog is dead. I denounce everything I stood for on this stupid shit. 

I’m writing this because it’s what the blog deserves. Not looking to be dramatic, not looking for sympathy, in fact I think i’ll get a bit of backlash for this but bring it on. 

The past and the present- a summary

I had this blog when I was 14, unfortunately way too young to have a social media presence (one which carried any responsibility like this one anyway). No matter what age I said I was, no matter how I portrayed myself or how you, my followers interpreted me, I was a sad young trans guy desperately hoping to look big, cool, masculine and stoic, and that manifested in the most toxic way possible. 

I’m 17 now, still very very young, and after developments in my life, especially pursuing my medical transition and becoming happy within myself, I no longer hold such toxic beliefs as I once did. I am happier with myself and no longer feel the need to sacrifice others’ dignity, respect, and unfortunately sometimes on this blog, privacy, for my own. I was a very insecure, stubborn, and ignorant teenager, who dealt with a lot of denial. I’m not blaming the way I treated people online on other factors, but of course external factors came into play. I was dealing with bullying and insecurity, with parental problems, and with loneliness and depression. I seeked some sort of community, and I wanted to push myself away from the ‘weak’ trans community (the way I viewed it at the time). I wasn’t in denial personally, with the fact that I was trans (being gay is a different story- I was in complete denial with the fact that I’m gay), more just with the way other people viewed me (I will expand on this). I could elaborate on the way in which I viewed other people and the way that projected onto my conduction online, but it is a complex and confusing story. I have completely changed my viewpoint on trans ‘discourse’, I am open minded, I am close friends with people I would have turned my ignorant nose up at years ago. I am so proud to say that I am a completely different person now. I grow every day, it seems, and I can assure that I will never return to this ignorant mindset.

Growth

With experience, I have grown too. Obviously, from 14-17 i have become more mature. I have different experiences now as well, for example, I don’t bind often at all really anymore, because its more comfortable and can sometimes make me more dysphoric to know I am binding. I’m bringing this up because I bet you back when I was active on this blog, I would’ve laughed at the more mature, tolerant me, and probably went on a tyrade about how I was a fake trans guy or less of a man for not binding. I often wonder what ‘old me’ would think of ‘new me’. Now obviously, three years isn’t a hell of a big difference, but to a 17 come 18 year old it is. I understand I am not an adult yet, but I’ve always taken pride in conducting myself with a sense of maturity and articulacy, and for this post and platform especially I feel it is appropriate.

The Truscum Mindset

Back when I ran this blog, I was in an echo chamber of like minded people, which didn’t help my ideological development. I watched youtubers like Blaire White and Kalvin Garrah, who I thought gave me a balanced, moderate, and fair opinion which is clear is not the case. Back then I would’ve scoffed at the idea of Blaire and Kalvin and other similar people as being radical or a gateway, but I urge you, if you feel you are slipping to obsession with those ideologies, to seek to widen your opinions and associations. I understand it’s a fairly niche discourse topic, but for me it opened a wider rabbit hole into the alt right. From wanting to fit into the lgbt and wider communities as a masculine male, this opened up the black hole of the alt right, I browsed (now deleted) subreddits and 4chan boards, and forums that put me in a very negative and dangerous place. If you’d like me to make a post elaborating on this, I am more than happy to, but this post is to address conservativetranny.

Denial and owning up to responsibility

Back in 2017/18, I was very much in denial of certain aspects of myself, especially my sexuality. I am gay. I thought that this was, and especially as a trans guy, a demasculating quality. I still deal with those feelings sometimes, as a lot of young gay guys do, but thankfully it does not manifest itself as toxic as it once did. I just wanted to portray myself online as how I thought I wanted to be viewed-I didn’t want to be viewed like ‘any other trans guy’. I wanted to be different, but now I can appreciate individuality and I can also embrace being trans as well.

I used to think that having alt views was the coolest thing ever, which contributed to my slip into the alt right, something on which I’ll elaborate on in later posts. I am now an advocate for deradicalisation, and being rational, truly rational. I’m also an advocate for maturity and owning up to your mistakes.

I have hurt people, especially in my personal life, throughout my time as a stupid, thoughtless immature teenager and i am sorry, from the bottom of my heart, for that. I now respect the hell out of those people and unfortunately, but definitely rightfully so, they have lost their respect for me. I don’t blame them, because as I said, up until very recently I was a horrible, toxic person. With maturity, in the past half a year I have been able to own up to my mistakes and I am now taking responsibility for that. No excuses, because I was a shitty person. Of course there is a line between excuses and justification, and I hope those which are reading this can distinguish and appreciate this difference.

Self Hatred and Truscum

Back when I ran this blog, it was very easy to tell I was self hating. Everything I wrote on here, pretty much, was hateful except for the odd two posts that were about something unrelated to my ideology. I was extremely dysphoric and in a bad place when I wrote these things and certainly projected my insecurities onto others. I wanted to find a community of different thinking people that would accept me, and this community was certainly the wrong turn. I had a feeling that it was wrong at the time, but I was too naive and cowardly to own up to it and seek a way out. I kind of just naturally fell out of it, a a lot of things happened in my personal life in late 2018 that forced me out of trans discourse and into much more toxic places like the alt right and true crime fandoms, and I think I’ve only recently ‘found myself’ in the past year or so. I might make a post on self growth on the future as I intend to keep this blog to elaborate and voice my opinions on deradicalisation and highlight the importance of owning up and self awareness.

Don’t fall into the rabbithole

I’m not too acquainted with trans discourse anymore, so I’m out of the loop on this one, but I’d imagine that there’s still ‘transmed vs tucute’ ideas. Kalvin Garrah’s community comes to mind, I haven’t watched his videos ‘as a fan’, if that makes sense, for a while now but I am aware he has a large fanbase of young trans teens that were in a similar mindset to where I was back when I ran this blog. I would love for this post to reach his opposers and supporters for that matter, as a means to show them that they don’t have to fall into this cycle of hate which can be very damaging. I used to be an avid fan of Kalvin, and Blaire White, amongst others. I watched exclusively their content alone and formed my opinions around theirs. If you’re doing that now, I urge you to consider other people when you do. Think about the people like Brennan Beckwith, people who were severely impacted and hurt by hateful rhetoric. Those people are human too, and with maturity you will learn that people with different experiences and views are, at the end of the day, the same as you, and they have feelings as well .I’m going to make a post in the future about Kalvin Garrah, certainly, but maybe Blaire White as well.

Why now?

You may be wondering why this post is being made now of all times, and that is a question that has every right to be asked. I feel as if this timing is right because I finally possess the level of maturity needed to own up to my mistakes and tell you that I was wrong and it was certainly wrong to post those opinions and mistakes online for all to see, and put people in my real life on blast like I did.

I had completely forgotten about this blog, and forgot about the rude and ignorant words I had written towards the people in my real life, until chance had it that I was in contact with one of the people mentioned in this post. [https://conservativetranny.tumblr.com/post/169351517511/no-one-pretends-to-be-trans]

I’m not going to go into the nuances of the conversation we had, but it turns out they had, for a while and definitely rightfully so been hurt by the fact that I had mentioned them, by name, in this post. And while I’d of course still like to keep these people anonymous and will not sacrifice their anonymity in order to tell a story or ‘save myself’, this post is quite funny to read back on as I am good friends with the people referred to as ‘P’ and ‘Shadow’ now.

This is the end of this post, as I feel I have said everything I have wanted to say regarding my previous conduct on this blog. I’m going to change my name on this blog and my bio as I do intend on further posts in the future. I’m not sure how many people, if any, this post will reach, but I’m satisfied I have written this anyway. I certainly do plan on writing future posts but I’m not exactly sure how to formulate them. But thank you so much for reading this far, and if you have, I appreciate it.

[seblore]

everyday i wake up and you still havent posted your evermore rant </3

there u go boo 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

GDBDNSKDJHHDDNDS GIRL................ ok so i very cleverly avoided ranking folklore because every song REALLY HIT and the whole album was just SO.. SO.. yeah. i can however rank miss evermore. i dont want to compare the two album i do not get the point in that. both give off really different vibes. now what i will say is with folklore, AS AN ALBUM, it is just a master masterpiece. The songs flowed amazingly with each other and really held you close the entire first listen. at least thats what I felt like <3 with evermore however, the individual songs are OMG!!! THERE IS LITERALLY NO SONG I DONT LIKE FROM ANY OF THE TWO ALBUMS. but as an album on the first listen i did feel a bit disconnected from evermore which didnt happen to me with folklore. why i think that might’ve happened is BECAUSE taylor is just so brilliant m8.... the MASSIVE contrasting emotions between the songs was too much for my little brain to handle.

Ok so now that’s out of the way dhsjsk time for rankings :) i have no idea where im going to put each song im just going to make it up as we go <3 ill ALSO give you my fave lyrics from each if I remember it <333 (oh and also you’ll notice marjorie isnt here. im sorry but i never listened to it after the first listen because it hits a little too close to home and i dont want to unpack all of that now im sorry! it is a beautiful song)

14. Closure: she popped off <3 she really said dont treat me like a situation that needs to be handled 💃🤙💯 a beautiful song with beautiful lyrics HOWEVER its the first song i couldnt connect with thus it’s down here BUT I STILL WOULD LISTEN TO IT ON REPEAT THO... the last in my ranking but still fucks 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ thats taylor swift 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

13. long story short: i have never been in a relationship ever BUT GODDAMN ‘pushed from the precipice, clung to the nearest lips’ hdjsksksjjddjnBbdns jddd ubebs!:!?:?:$3&39383$hzjs WOAH.... and this bitch really summarized the full 2016 drama with long story short it was a bad time. HILARITY. yeah not much to say here tho this is just the ‘at least one mandatory song to shake your tits to on each ts album’ song of evermore <3 and always remember that if the shoe fits walk in it TILL YOUR HIGH HEELS BREAK WOOH ANDIFELLDOWNTHEPEDESTALRIGHTDOWNTHERA—

12: dorothea: making a lark of misery :D RENt free. i had to listen to ‘if youre tired of being known for who you know you know youll always know me’ 113 times to finally understand it tho 😐 some of us are stupid and illiterate have you ever thought about that miss swift???? anyways TINGTINGTINGINGINGING THE STARS IN YOUR EYES SHINED BRIGHTER IN TUPELO <33333 such an innocent feel good song I LOVE!!!!!

11. ivy: the goddamn here and the hush of mirrorball ARE THE REASON IM STILL ALIVE 😽 another lyrical masterclass <3 ‘id live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time’ IS2G!!!!!!!!!!! anyways what if you cheated on your husband with me and i cheated on my husband with you and my pain fit in the palm of your freezing hands 😳 JK JK 😅 unless...... 🤪😏 hdjsks yeah this song is magnificently cursed and i am in love with it 🧎‍♀️

10. tis the damn season: this song is august but the other side of the coin. august but four months later. AUGUST SLIPPED AWAY LIKE A BOTTLE OF WINE- THE HOLIDAYS LINGER LIKE A BAD PERFUMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE... she sounds so pretty goshhh! ‘time flies messy as the mud on your truck tires NOW IM MISSING YOUR SMILE hear me out we could just ride around and the road not taken looks real good now’ is on repeat in my mind. and as always the bridge ::::::::::::::.............:::::::::::::: how does she do this everytime. ‘and wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles im faking’ 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ after every ts song i listen my expectations about true love grows exponentially and my chances of finding true love falls exponentially simultaneously ADIEU.

9. willow: she really took the invisible string quartet and put it in huh..................... FUCKED IN THE HEADDDDDDDDDDDDDD. what can i say <3 its just such a pretty song <3 hashtag gorgeous hashtag i cant say anything to its face. WRECK MY PLANS!!!!!! WRECK IT BITCH!!! ‘wait for the signal and ill meet you after dark’ LOVE STORY WHIPLASH. also mate i cant even focus on the song she looks SO GOOD in the music video i—

8. happiness: !!!! what can i say.... one of the best songs of the album hands down. lyrical masterpiece AND musically rich. she really logged into tumblr dot com and typed out ‘THERE’LL BE HAPPINESS AFTER YOU’ AND ‘THERE WAS HAPPINESS BECAUSE OF YOU’ ARE IDEAS THAT CAN COEXIST and logged off...... h8 her and her insanity. the one word i have to describe this song is: picturesque. tis a picturesque song <3 oh and dfbhhffcbhDDVHHTRSDVJK when i heard ‘i hope she’ll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you’ i audibly GASPED and then she says ‘no i didnt mean that sorry i cant see facts through all of my fury’................. i fell out of my chair. IT FELT LIKE AS IF SHE HEARD MY GASP AND TOLD ME SPECIFICALLY THAT NO SHE DIDNT MEAN IT LIKE THAT... anyways yeah. ill write an article one day named THE SWIFT DECEPTION OF TAYLOR about how she keeps writing songs with deceptive titles and this will be the opening case 😈🤙 also the fact that this is one of my faves and i put it in number 8 says a lot......

7. evermore: i havent recovered from ‘motion capture. put me in a bad light’. i mean come on the whole goddamn song is a lyrical masterpiece. ‘writing letters addressed to the fire’. IS SHE OK!????????????? i think tf not. beautiful song beautiful arrangement. iver sounded really good too. and lol lol rofl WOOFWOOFbarkbark ‘HEY DECEMBER GUESS IM FEELING UNMOORED’ unmoored definition from google dot com: no longer attached. she doesn’t go back to december anymore. about2 faint oml. long story short: i did not survive. THIS PAIN WOULD BE FOR EVERMORE........ what i felt with this song is that she took the quarantine sadness we all felt at least once this year and made it into a masterpiece of a song. couldve been easily the top song on any album except this. no i will not elaborate <3

6. no body no crime: i cannot believe. she teased us with a musical number. this woman teased us with. a musical number. I THINK SHE IS WRITING A MUSICAL BUT I JUST CANT PROVE IT! when she wins that tony 16 years later call me prophetic xoxo. anyways yeah she literally wrote this to flex her storytelling abilities. send tweet 🐥

5. cowboy like me: YEEEHAWWW I’LL BE HONEST WITH YOU I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FULL SONG SOUNDS LIKE I JUST HAVE THE BRIDGE ON REPEAT!!!! OMFG!!! the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up. AAAA!! ??? STFU. IM NOT EVEN TALKING ABOUT THE LYRICS MATE THE WAY ITS SUNG!!!!!!! GUT WRENCHING! the best bridge she has ever written musically. i cant stop listening to it. REALLYYY DID BELIEEEVE I WAS THE ONEEE. STORIESSS ABOUT WHEEEN YOU PASSSEDDD THROUGHH TOWN. y e l l. and then she hits me with ‘now you hang from my lips like the gardens of babylon.’ L ???? M !!!!! A $$$$$ O “”””” i had to pause it and sit there for 10 minutes to take in what i had just heard. case closed critical hit sustained yeedhawd.

4. tolerate it: i cried. the only reason it’s not 1 is because it hurt me too much. WHAT THE FUCK YOU MF YOU ASSUME IM FINE BUT WYD IF I BREAK FREE AND LEAVE US IN THE RUINS???? TOOK THIS DAGGER IN ME AND REMOV— m8 this physically hurts me everytime. if its all in my head TELL ME RN. aghhh aRghhhhhhh. pain. and lol she broke down sleep to its bare essentials ‘breathing with your eyes closed’.

3. ??? coney island: i know it’s a bit of a controversial top three but WHO CARES 🕴this is solely here for ‘AND IM SITTING ON A BENCH IN CONEY ISLAND wondering where did my BABYy GO’ im shaking. my bed is shaking. my body is shaking. my pupils are shaking. THE WAY SHE SINGS IT OH MY GOODNESS ME i have to lie down gimme a sec. ‘and if this is the long haul howd we get here so soon 😟’ SCREAM. and when i was hearing it for the first time and she said ‘sorry for not making you my centerfold’ i was like yeah and?? so what?? and then she hits me with ‘over and over’...... so she didnt make him/her/them her centerfold over and over !!!!!!! she is sorry she didnt do it over and over!!!!!! mannn.... the chorus.. i shall not speak. i am held at gunpoint i CANNOT SPEAK. the bridge tho dhdnsksksjsb I CAN SPEAK AND I SHALL SPEAK. BITCH WENT OFFFFFFFF. <3 this is the apology she deserved from her exes which she never got so she wrote it herself. podium. grey skies. birthday cake. ACCIDENT. im laughingggggggggggg <///3 and yeah so overall it is a really yummy song with yummy vocals and yummy arrangement 9/10 would recommend. also!! life lessons kids life lessons. disappointments? SIMPLY CLOSE YOUR EYES AND PRETEND YOU DO NOT SEE IT YAAAAAAAAAS

2. gold rush: ETHEREAL!!!!!! The last time i felt like this™️ whilst listening to a song was with mirrorball <3 the production of this song omg omg omg LOVE 💃 but what propelled it to number two status was the ‘i dont like slow motion double vision in ROSE BLUSH/ i dont like that falling feels like flying till the BONE CRUSH’ imagine how fucked in the head a person needs to be to rhyme rose blush with bone crush. yeah i have nothing more to say really this song is extremely gorgeous and ‘eyes like sinking ships on water so inviting i almost jumped in’ / ‘walk past quick brush’ ?:!:!&:8483 F A V E <33333 and the transition transmission transfusion from ‘... gray old tea cuz itll never be ᵍˡᵉᵃᵃᵃᵃᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʷⁱⁿᵏˡⁱⁿᵍᵍᵍᵍ’ MADAME

1. champagne problems: are we surprised? ARE WE REALLY SURPRISED? when listening to new albums i normally listen to it at one go in order. i stick to that rule. HOWEVER after many years of my solid album listening self made rule tm i finally broke and immediately replayed this mf song after listening to it once. ‘you had a speech, youre speechless/ love slipped beyond your reaches’???? stfu???? VILE. PUNISHABLE. DEROGATORY. and welp the entire bridge ...... .... ........... what can i say. And the parallels to miss all too well??? WHAT WAS THE REASON???? your SISTER splashed out on the bottle- left my scarf there at your SISTER’s house 😐 she’ll patch up your tapestry that i SHRED- maybe this thing was a masterpiece till you TORE it all up 😐 your MOM’s ring in your pocket- your MOTHER’s telling stories bout you on the tee ball team 😐 November flush and your FLANNEL cure- PLAID shirt days and nights when you made me your own 😐 wHAT A SHAME SHE IS FUCKED IN THE HEAD IS2G........... and also why would she not rhyme POCKET with LOCKET?????? why with wallet???????????? slant rhyme why????????????? AND THE NOTE THIS MF SONG ENDS ON..... FUCKED IN THE HEAD

THATS IT. i really sat here and did this for the past 2 hours huh...... hhdjsms anyways LONG STORY SHORT: I HATE ONE INSANE WOMAN AND HER NAME IS TAYLOR ALISON SWIFT. GODSPEEED 🏃‍♀️

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Stay Ch. 16

Master List

Pairing: Natasha X Reader (Female)

Summary: You have a gift, the ability to see other people’s innermost secrets. For years you used it to gather intel for the highest bidder when you take on The Widow. After she becomes more than a mark the two of you spend years stealing moments. Post snap you wait in your designated meeting place, look back on the sordid past you share with the woman you love and hope against everything that she’s still alive.

Warnings: Angst, and fluff, and feels oh my!

A/N:  So yeah I swear I wroth an authors note for this... but idfk what happened. 

ANYWAY! Thank you all for being so patient while I got my life together. This one is also short and sweet (guess that’s the mood I’m in). However, y’all should know me by now. This is just the calm before the storm. 

Hope you enjoy this one my pumpkins! 

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf  @disagreetoagree  @breezy1415  @peachthatdrinkslemonade  @5aftermidnight@jeromethepsycho  @marvel-randomness  @daniellajocelyn  @katecolleen  @yanginginthere@wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @lesbian-girls-wayhaught @siriuslycloudy2

March 2007

At some point in the last five months, you’d stopped recognizing yourself. The woman in the mirror wasn’t Y/N. Her hair was different, down to even the eyebrows. Her accent distinctly that of a life long Londoner. She worked for an independent UK couture fashion magazine, chose wine over whiskey, and was distinctly heterosexual.

When the chance to work this job requiring deep cover came up in December you jumped on it. You didn’t want to be you anymore. The you that couldn’t be with the woman you loved. The you that was heartbroken. The you who was beginning to doubt that you’d ever be happy. Fuck her.

Being Charlie Daniels was far better. She was, of course, a real person. Just one who was now living comfortably in the Bahamas courtesy of MI6. Even legit agencies had use of freelance talent every now and then.

Settling into her life had been easy. Not setting her boss on fire or blowing his brains out daily was a different task altogether. Turned out that a magazine was a great front for a crime empire. Lots of international travel, young and beautiful and desperate men and women, money exchanged in countless untraceable ways, on and on. And this fucker was happy to take advantage of every single disgusting avenue it opened up.

You almost had everything you needed to hand to MI6, get your obscenely large payout, and get on to another gig while they threw all of these bastards into cells to rot for the rest of their miserable lives. Just one more trip. After whatever horrible things they lay out in Tokyo you’ll be set.

Tokyo is one of those cities you can lose yourself in. Like New York but better for its interesting balance of vibrancy and grounded reserve. You absolutely love it.

The whole point of the trip, at least on the surface, was to focus on Fashion Week Tokyo. Honestly, there was a part of you that wished this was your world. Nothing but runway shows and after parties. Writing about the latest trends rather than delving into the inner workings of the worlds miscreants

Oh well. It was nice enough to pretend. You had to admit that you’d miss Charlie Daniels once you shed this skin in a couple of weeks.

You’re sitting two people down from your boss at an underground show. The level of security here screams that there are other things going on behind the scenes but it’s still a room filled with a who’s who of the Japanese and international fashion communities.

This was your third show of the day, and you knew there would be a party after where you’d have to schmooze all while plucking information from your unsuspecting fellow guests. You’re exhausted. So rather than pay much attention to the show you let your mind wander.

When she walks out you feel her rather than see her.  Slowly you turn your head to stare dumbstruck at the model walking onto the catwalk. Your heart begins beating against your ribs, your mouth goes dry, your hands shake.

It takes every ounce of control you have to keep your emotions in. To not scream “Natasha!” at the top of your lungs. To not grab her and run for the hills. Charlie Daniels and her easy life be damned. It’s hard but you manage.

As she turns and comes back down, passing now closer to you, her eyes don’t graze  the crowd at all. Head up, shoulders back, she walks the runway like she’d been doing it for years.

The rest of the show is maybe ten minutes but it feels like years. You know the models are all attending the party. Eye candy for the high end guests.

It’s fairly easy to ditch your coworkers in the crowd as you try to find the best vantage point in the room without being too obvious. After a solid twenty minutes, you find yourself planning an escape route. Most of the models are milling about but she’s no where to be seen. You will find her.

But you know you can’t skip out just yet. At the bar, you order a red wine and make yourself seen. Charlie would never miss the whole party after all. You spend a bit chatting with designers and a few models, feigning interest in the whole thing until you hear your boss call out to you.

“Oy, Charlie!” Carl’s voice alone makes you want to put him down. When you turn he’s waving you over to the bar. Sighing heavily you head over.

You’re about ten feet away when you see her, head back laughing at something Carl or his friend had said. Both men are far to close to her for your liking and the hungry look on Carl’s face sets your blood boiling.

He slings an arm around your shoulders and you carefully coach your face to not show disgust. “Charlie here is my best writer. Doin’ some pieces for us on this whole thing,” he waves his other hand around wildly.

“Good to meet ya, Charlie, I’m Dan,” the other man, clearly American says.

“Likewise,” Natasha doesn’t react to the accent at all.

“This here is-”

“Natalie,” Natasha cuts him off, extending a hand to you. Holding her eyes with yours you take it. It’s like touching a live wire.

“Natalie is an American model working here in Japan. May be a good topic for a piece.” He ribs you leaning closer, “And a good piece for the office eh?” Suddenly that MI6 money seems far less appealing.

“I’d love that,” Natasha beams. “Why don’t you guys go mingle and Charlie and I can chat!” The men exchange a glance, but there’s plenty of fresh meat around to sink their teeth into.

Carl flashes you a greasy smile and a wink as he walks away. Thinking clearly that you’re going to snare this woman for him. You, unfortunately, had a few others. Not something you were proud of. Demands of the job you told yourself.

“She’ll take a vodka neat,” you tell the bartender.

“Yes,” Natasha smiles at him, “Whiskey for her. Makers if you have it.” He thinks nothing of it and makes your drinks.

“So, how’s modeling in Japan?”

“Probably about as good as writing for a sleazy jackal.”

You laugh, “That bad? What’s the goal.”

“Getting a cover,” you commend the clever word play.

“That’s a good goal. Long term?”

“Something like that.” She takes a sip of her vodka, “How long are you here?”

“End of the week.” Your skin itches to touch her. The men are rounding back. You hold her gaze and shift your eyes back to them. She catches on.

“Perfect! It’s so hard to have a good interview here, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely. Why don’t you come by my hotel?” You whip out your spare key card. “I’d love to get your story for the mag, maybe do a full feature.”

“A feature would be excellent exposure!”

“Wouldn’t it?” Carl slides up next to her. “We can get you all the exposure you could want Ms. Natalie.”

“Charlie was telling me all about it.” She flashes him a coy smile. “Thank you so much Charlie! I forgot I have a late fitting tonight for another show so I’ve got to run. But we’ll chat soon yeah?”

“Absolutely! It was so good to meet you Natalie.”

“Same! Bye!” She hurries through the crowded room and disappears.

“Busy girl.” Carl quips. “Whiskey?” You look down at the glass by your hand.

“Some guy sent them over,” you gesture to Natasha’s lipstick stained glass. “Seemed rude to refuse. Can’t stand the stuff though.”

“That’s a mans drink,” Carl laughs at his own perceived joke and you force a smile.

Somehow you make it through the rest of the evening. You’d refused to allow yourself to hope that she’d be here, too obvious to come the same night, better to wait. Kicking off your shoes you head straight to the mini bar and crack open a whiskey, downing it in one gulp.

“You really need to be more careful,” Natasha’s voice comes from the bathroom. “I mean not even checking around. Sloppy.”

“Charlie Daniels doesn’t have to check for Russian assassins in her bathroom,” a smile pulls your face so tight it hurts.

“Well, Natalie Rushman isn’t a Russian spy. So…”

You let your real accent resurface as you pull her into your arms, “Natalie Rushman, I don’t know if that’s clever or lazy.” She kisses you hard, tongue sliding over your lips hands gripping your ass.

“Mmm,” she hums. “Kinda like the accent.”

“Oh?” You revert to the clipped posh Londoner sound. “Would you rather be with Charlie? I hate to break it to you, she’s strictly into dick so you may need to get a bit creative.”

Natasha’s head falls back with laughter, “I’m always into a challenge but,” she cups your face in her hands, “I’d much rather Y/N, she’s got a cute accent too.” Your kiss is soft this time, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, honey.” Gently you push a strand of hair out of her face. “Is this smart? Are you gonna get-”

“I’m good. I wouldn’t be here if I thought there was risk.” She pulls away and tugs you toward the bed. “There’s no surveillance on me here, I check in every week, that’s it. This is strictly to build a cover.”

“Cover for what?” She gives you a sideways glance. “Right. National security.”

“Do you really want to talk about work?”

Smirking at her you push her back on the bed. “Maybe later.”

You lean down to her but she stops you by planting a strappy heel in the center of your chest. Trailing your fingers down her leg you snag a knife from her thigh holster. Carefully you slide the blade under the straps, the incredibly sharp edge cuts through the thin suede like it’s nothing.

“Those were very expensive you know,” eyes sparkling with desire.

You slip the shoe off and toss it aside. “I’ll buy you a new pair.” Your lips press against her ankle.  

Everything in your life until her was so fleeting. Even your own name, the sound of your own voice, who you were… But with her, you were grounded. You weren’t anything but her’s, you were Y/N.

Suddenly you’re overwhelmed. Caressing her muscular calf you just stare at her eyes. Emerald green, dark liner, lids heavy with lust and exhaustion.

“Natasha…” Your voice cracks and you fight for composure.

“Y/N? What is it?” She shoots up, cradling your face in her hands.

You shake your head, unable to really find the words and unwilling to send this storm of emotions to her. “I just…” You cover her hands with your own. It’s not that you don’t want her, you do. But…

“Can we just… I just wanna hold you…” Her expression immediately softens, eyes sparkling a touch with tears. “Sorry… I… I just…”

“I’d love that, baby.” Tenderly her lips brush yours, then your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids as they flutter closed.

You shed your clothes and crawl into the plush bed. Holding tight to one another you spend hours drifting in and out of sleep, covering the other with soft kisses. Before the sun rises your hands wander southward.

This time you don’t fuck one another senseless. It feels like you’re trying to memorize every curve, every sound, every subtle thing that marks being together. You both know you many not get to do this for some time. The knowledge aches but it doesn’t make having her any less sweet.

Post Snap

You lean your head back on the wall behind the booth. The crying man from last night is gone, you find yourself hoping that he’s resting peacefully somewhere… even though you know it’s pointless to hope for such things.

There are more people filling the bar than there was before. The TVs are off, radios turned up, reporters frantically trying to determine what happened. It was global, that was clear. All planes grounded, trains stopped, communications spotty due to damaged cell towers.

A man speaks frantically to someone who seems to be a friend that he was heading to Nuremberg from Budapest, how the roads are almost not navigable. He doesn’t know if his family is even still there but he has to find out.

Despite his distress, your lips curl a bit at the mention of Budapest.

[anislandintime]

I think to quit and exit is the only way left, the only way out.

Life has let me down again and each time when I have told myself it cant be worse than this, life has taken it up as a challenge and proven me wrong. Things have been just getting worse and worse. It feels like life is just laughing at me. I feel ridiculed by life.

When GF came to meet SB, it felt so nice. She had taken a bus during the pandemic travelling for 15-16 hrs just to meet him. They were meeting for the first time. Her plan was to stay for a week but ended up staying for three weeks. They had a good time. When she arrived SB told her that he decided to give their relationship a chance only after I suggested him to give it a chance and let his guards down. Both thanked me greatly. Well, while I am happy for them, I dont understand why things had to just go wrong for me in the relationship I pursued in a similar fashion?

UB came to stay with us for a night when K’s roommate’s parents were in town. That night over a long conversation he mentioned of how J’s toxic friendship had affected him deeply and its impact was seen in eroded ability to trust and connect with people. All of this, he said, changed only when K came into his life.

Life, please tell me why do you give solution and liberation to all except me? I am unable to tell how the narcissistic abuse of ND has crippled me from within. I neither get a healing touch nor do I find a shoulder to cry on. Worse, I dont even find words to explain what is happening to me. I continue to suffer in silence with absolutely no hope of recovering ever.

UB also got the job, that I too had applied for. I was instrumental in him finally getting into this stream. Now he has gotten the job I am desperately in need of. He too was aiming for it. But given his cultural capital he could have opted for another job and he had the luxury to stretch his hand and leg in those directions, which I clearly dont have. But he wants a life of comfort. Hence he is seeking this one. It is isnt crime to seek comfort. But what is a life of comfort and ease for him is my hope for a sustainable life for I do not have the cultural capital to reach out to anything else. I think I am going to be bankrupt soon, with no job in hand and no projects coming my way.

SG texted saying she and ID are getting married next month. When I saw the text, I literally jumped off my seat and gave a punch in the air. I can never forget how SG had wept uncontrollably by the sea one evening recollecting how her extended family had beaten her, her parents and her sisters when they found out that her eldest sister was dating a Christian. The memories of it haunted her every time she thought of telling her parents about ID. But now, she says her parents and sister are fully supportive of her and she doesnt care what the extended family thinks. She sounded very happy and I am happy for her.

Such news make me unbelievably happy. But at night when I finally switch off all the lights and try going to sleep... There is only one question which comes down like a lightening and strikes me hard. WHY DOESNT ANYTHING GOOD HAPPEN TO ME EVER? WHY LOVE IS SO ELUSIVE? WHY PROFESSIONAL SUCCESS OR SUCCESS IN RELATIONSHIP PERPETUALLY ABSENT IN MY LIFE?

Mother is unwell. Father is unwell. The times when Mother was hospitalized drained me out completely. I dont know how will I manage all this, with no support- physically and even emotionally- and also with no income. To add to these, my own mental health is collapsing. The severe damage caused by ND’s narcissistic abuse has made me perpetually nervous, anxious and also feel perpetually threatened. By what, from whom- no clarity. But I constantly feel I am under threat and I am about to be attacked. I feel severely insecure and unsafe. The abuse has left me in a state where I am unable to trust anyone and I feel disconnect from everything and everyone. All of these has made it difficult for me to even speak of what I am going through, to friends or even to strangers. I cant trust anyone anymore. I feel uneasy throughout. Is this what they call as PTSD? I dont know. What did I do to deserve all these? All I did was love this girl and see only goodness in her. And it turns out that she only abused me, manipulated me, exploited me and even without me realizing it, fractured my soul and destroyed me. She even had the audacity to repeatedly text me asking how my mother is doing. Wonder where she got to know about it from. I wouldnt be surprised if AN was the source of news for her. That idiot of a friend who took pleasure in turning my pain, my suffering into a spectacle- something to derive entertainment from! How foolish of me to have trusted him for so long as a friend! Was it him or was it AG? I dont know. I dont know who to trust anymore. Why did ND repeatedly text me? Even call me! She also sent a mail. I did not bother replying to the texts or even the mail. Did not answer the calls. I did not want to have any form of communication with her, especially after that accusatory mail she sent when I shared with her a paper, which I thought would be useful to her. She made it sound like I was being intrusive and pushy and also unwelcome. Later she doesnt mind repeatedly texting me, calling me. Had I called or even texted her, she would have brought down the sky screaming and shouting and unleashing violence on me. But when she does it, it is to be perceived as an act of kindness and concern. Even if it is done just so that she can convince herself that she is kind and concerned and not because she actually has any concern. What a performative life she leads; where she lies to herself and believes in her own lies! She is more interested in coming across as  a good human than becoming a good human. When I did not reply to her texts or mails and when I did not answer her calls, she made AS- her friend- call me, text me. When his father was unwell earlier in the year, I used to check up on his father’s health condition often and also extend my moral support to him. And he chooses to become a ‘flying monkey’ to a narcissist? Or may be he doesnt know of the ways in which his friend caused hurt and wound to me and the core of my being. I abruptly ended the conversation when he called me from an unknown number. I did not return the call as I promised. He texted me later on. I replied to it after a day or two. He doesnt bother replying to that. But then ND calls me. I dont know why after some days I felt I was holding grudge like ND does and in order to be not like ND, I decided to reply to her mail and I did. She doesnt bother to reply to that. Probably she was satisfied knowing that the person who she wronged and damaged, doesnt mind replying to her; which helps her showcase the world and make herself believe that she isnt a bad person and more importantly she has control over the people she has abused also. So no reply. She persistently called and texted to make herself believe that she is not ignored, not neglected. Once she gets to know that the other person, though wronged and hurt by her, still writes back to her, she is more than happy; her ego is boosted and she goes back to her silence, her way of showing her power and her control. She constantly says how abusive her father is. I dont know him but from whatever I know of him through her, I must say that if at all he endorses his way of being, then he must be super proud of her daughter for she has outsmarted him in becoming abusive, toxic, exploitative and harmful. If at all ND rejects her father’s ways of being, then she must also be disgusted by herself and must not forgive herself ever because she has been no less to her father in being abusive, toxic and exploitative. I replied to her mail not because I wanted to strike a conversation but because I did not want to become like her. So, I also wrote her a mail after few days when TV news spoke of floods in her ancestral town.  Immediately she texted me on WhatsApp, in an extremely friendly tone. I replied to that in a cold tone because I did not know how she would react. When I replied in a friendly manner to her query about my mother’s health, she went silent. When I had earlier replied elaborately to her mail spelling out how SN had plagiarized her thoughts, my long mail expressing solidarity and offering understanding was responded to with silence and later an accusatory mail! Even when in July she called wanting to clear things and sort things, when I spelled out what hurt me, she not just swung sword of words at me but also made it sound like I was the one causing hurt and told me that her therapist had advised her to stay away from me, as if I was the one hurting her! Any way, after telling me that she wants to disconnect from me, she texted me within an hour asking if she can check on me once in a while. When I responded to that in a friendly manner, saying we should probably together meet a therapist as suggested by her, she replied in an extremely hurtful way and arrogant way saying her ONLY problem in life was me! After that she blocked me on WhatsApp. Every time I have tried to be friendly with her she only attacks and accuses. Her constant flips and backflips are mindfucking and toxic. I dont know how to deal with her, nor do I know how to heal from the aftereffects of the trauma she caused... and also, I dont know how to deal with the love and compassion I still have for her somewhere deep inside of me. I hate myself for this.

Life, please be kind to me and end your relation with me this very night. I do not wish to wake up tomorrow morning. Please leave me. I wont hold you accountable at the door of death. But I beg you, please let me die and leave me. I am done. I am tired. All I sought in my entire life was some genuine love and some real deep connections. Even that was not made available to me, even if in a small percentage. I certainly deserved a better life. But it is okay, I wont complain. Now, I want to take the exit door and leave. I am tired. This pain, this loneliness, this suffering... all are just unbearable now. Death, please do not be like life. Please embrace me. Hold me in your arms and take me with you. Tonight.

[iammrskeltal]

Taylor Swift and The REAL diss in Look What You Made Me Do.

– THIS IS NOT A DRILL, I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL:

A word of advise, the more you read, the more sense it makes, it is a LONG text, but please take the time to read it.

Okay gals and guys, ladies and gentlemen, im here to genuinely break down the REAL meaning of Look What You Made Me Do. I mean, yeah, sure, a lot of people just go on and on about how the track is just basically a diss track to all of taylor’s “celebrity feuds”, but let me tell you, there is SO much more than that. It becomes way better when you see it like this, so, lets get to the point, Yes, it is a REALLY long text, but well, its worth it….i guess.

I’ll prove my point with the lyrics, i’ll break the song and build it up again, and you will see a new song, a way better song (yeah, believe me, it can get better).

First of all, what is the real target of the song? Not Kanye, not Kim, not Katy. No no, like Blank Space, the main target here is the media, how they portray her to the world, how they manage to create things about her, what she does, what she doesnt, how they always have something to say about her, everything. Now, lets break the lyrics down shall we?.

“I don’t like your little games Don’t like your tilted stage The role you made me play Of the fool, no, I don’t like you I don’t like your perfect crime How you laugh when you lie You said the gun was mine Isn’t cool, no, I don’t like you.“

To be honest, this part was the most difficult of them all, i mean, with all the Kanye and Kim feud still going on, i really thought this was aimed at them, i even considered to leave this piece of the song behind, but then it hitted me like a train, the last piece of this puzzle was placed. So, this start isnt really that hard to get once you think about it, the media plays gameswith Taylor Swift, they invent stuff, they like to generate drama around her life (yeah, i know!, even more drama than it is already!). But why the tilted stage, right?, this means that they like to focus on her, like, if any artist do the same thing as her, they don’t even talk about it, even less if its a male artist (mainly their relationships), for example, how many artists decided to NOT share their political stance? A lot. And how many were called White Supremacists about it? Yeah, you guessed it right, only Taylor Fucking Swift. Or, well, let’s see, how about counting people relationships like its some kind of game? Hoping and waiting until they break up to write even more articles about how Taylor Swift always does the same thing over and over?. I mean, a lot of artists tend to have a lot of relationships, but who they care more about? Yeah, you got another point, Taylor Swift again. And this is a perfect crime, i mean, lets talk/write about Taylor Swift, say whatever we want, invent stories to sell and get views, say whatever, nobody will care if its true or false, just say it and thats it, its a win-win situation since taylor persona is so bashed that people nowadays tends to believe most things they write about her. What’s true doesn’t matter anymore, they decide which role Taylor have to play there, no matter the circumstances, yeah, sure, she can make mistakes sometimes, like everybody, but for the media, Taylor is always the one to blame.

As the songs says, they lie, they laugh, they blame her (say the gun was hers), and you got another story to tell the people, no matter the authenticity of it, thats not important.

"But I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time I’ve got a list of names and yours is in red, underlined I check it once, then I check it twice, oh!”

This part is pure gold. Just listen to this, she already showed us that she stopped getting frustrated about what the media said about her (yeah, sometimes its inevitable but im talking in general), with time she got harder (because she tries to not care about it) and smarter (because she learned how to cope with it, she learned how to turn it into her favour). She rose up from the dead because, lets be honest here, how many times did you read in the media “IS THIS THE END OF TAYLOR SWIFT?”, “IS THIS TAYLOR SWIFT FEUD GOING TO BURY HER?” or well, things like that, maybe not literally but you got my point fellas (take the song Mean as an example), and she is still here, better than ever.

AND THEN, THE BEST PART OF THAT VERSE, just listen to this, im going to write it again, I’ve got a list of names and yours is in red, underlined I check it once, then I check it twice, you read it? Well, now get this, which name is she talking about? Who did she checked twice?  It can’t be Kim, this would be the first song about her, Kanye? maybe, i mean, she has “Innocent” about him, but i believe this would be more of a Kim song, do me a favour and let’s think about this for a second. WHO TF IS SHE TALKING ABOUT? The f**** Media, Blank Space was the first check on that list, she decided to answer the media in that song, she understood how to play the game and made them know, and now Look What You Made Me Do it’s the second check to them, she, again, copes with all the negativity they throw at her constantly and decides to use it again and show them she can beat them.

But if you don’t believe me, there is more, there is MUCH, just keep reading.

“Ooh, look what you made me do Look what you made me do Look what you just made me do Look what you just made me Ooh, look what you made me do Look what you made me do Look what you just made me do Look what you just made me do”

The chorus changes dramatically when you understand the real meaning of the song. Its not about a new and bitter Taylor who changed for worst because of all the problems, who was forced to be dark or something like that, its not a counter-blame about who she became to be able to move on with her life, no, i mean, we saw her, she still is our little beautiful heavenly pie we always knew, what the chorus really aims for is the news about her.

Just put it in perspective, she says “Oh, look what you made me do”  like, oh, so, what did you invented now? What did i do now? So now apparently im a white supremacist, so now apparently im anti-gay, oh, so now im not friends with Selena/Karlie anymore, oh…now Joe it’s upsed because im in the spotlight? There are MILLIONS of things like this, and the list goes on and on, every piece of news that isnt true about Taylor’s life become something that the media made her do (for everyone that reads those news and actually believes them). The media knows that for some people, the rumours they spread becomes something Taylor did, they become her actions (even though she didn’t do them).

“I don’t like your kingdom keys They once belonged to me You asked me for a place to sleep Locked me out and threw a feast (What?)”

When i listened to the song i tried to link this with the Kanye and Kim feud, but i couldn’t, now i get why, it isnt about it. This, in my opinion, is about how the media wanted to get to know taylor, before she understood the game, she invited them into her life, she was more public, but then everything changed. This whole verse is a metaphor about how the media stole her life in some kind of way, she is no longer in control of the truth surrounding her life, the kingdom keys (her home, her life) dont belong to her alone anymore. Now the media can say whatever they want and it will become the truth about her life to some people. They not only took her keys, they threw a feast means they started spreading rumours about everything, i mean, a feast is A LOT of food for many people, they enjoy it, they talk about her just because they can, no matter true or false, about old loves, the new one, old friends, new friends, politics, whatever floats their boat will get published just because she was naive enough to let them get deep into her life in the past, she gave them a place to sleep, a place in her life, and now they are part in control.

“The world moves on, another day, another drama, drama But not for me, not for me, all I think about is karma And then the world moves on, but one thing’s for sure Maybe I got mine, but you’ll all get yours”  

This changes a lot too, now its not about a Taylor that lingers in the past, trying to get a dark revenge to everyone who wronged her (gotta admit that would be funny tho). This is the image the media portrayed about her since forever, she is never the one hurt, she is never the good one in the story, she is the one to blame, she plays the victim, even if people played with her, for the media, she uses people and throws them away (its not like we all have more than ONE relationship in our fucking lives, right??). The world moves on and the media always shares more news about a Taylor who will get revenge on eveybody, they say DRAMA and KARMA is all she cares about, dont talk about how she helps people, fans, ill people, people affected by natural disasters, women in need, no no, all Taylor wants is REVENGEEEE, at least thats the image the media sells about her. They say she is stuck in her own world where only revenge matters, no matter the circumstances or the problem, taylor never gets to tell a story about her life, no no, the media tells us that taylor gets revenge, taylor uses people. And Taylor finishes this by saying “Yeah, i know things happen in the world, i know the image you portray about me, im preeeeeetty aware of that, but dont worry, ill use it”

And now, the last part of this masterpiece:

“I don’t trust nobody and nobody trusts me I’ll be the actress starring in your bad dreams”

This is basically the image the media portrays about her, nobody trusts her and she doesnt trust nobody, she uses people and people know she uses them, there is never trust, never friendship with anyone. For the media the squad is fake, her celebrity relationships (as friends or lovers) are fake, she cant have boyfriends, she only have targets, she cant have rebounds, she only wants stories to write new songs, she cant have friends, she only wants attention, she cant have problems/fights, she generates them for profit. The media managed to make Taylor look like a crazy woman who only cares about money and herself, not giving ANYONE EVER her trust, and thus, not receiving it, since she doesnt want it anyway, because she uses people. The actress starring in your bad dreams is pretty strong too. What is a dreams? Lets say its someones imagination going wild, is Taylor able to control what other people dream of her? Absolutely not. So, the message here is that she is playing the main role in a fictional story someone is making about her, is she able to stop it? no, is she able to act and stop being the bad in that dream? nope, neither, it is a bad dream (a bad story) and she is starring it. If people try, they can always find her as the main villian in their fictional stories, and there is almost nothing she can do about it. If people wants to blame her for anything, they will be able to (for example, white supremacism again, i mean, no matter what she does, no matter if she proves people 1283183 times that she is not racist, she is called a White Supremacist, i mean, she have really good black friends and danced with Todrick Hall (who says she is the sweetest person), you HAVE to be a white supremacist, right??? RIGHT??. Okay, so, to conclude this part, since she is not the one dreaming it, so she can only see what other people makes her do, she, as a person trapped in someone elses bad dream can only Look What You Made Me Do.

I hope you liked what i wrote, i have to say im sorry if something its not well written since english is NOT my first language, but well, this is what i really think  Look What You Made Me Do is about.

Goodbye!!

[adambstingus]

Old Records Never Die by Eric Spitznagel – the real High Fidelity

Eric Spitznagels account of a chase for old albums ends up as a tale of a midlife crisis, albeit one which sadly neglects to notice that women, too, love vinyl

I am writing this review at my teenage record store in Boise, Idaho. According to Google Maps I am approximately 5,147 miles away from my current home in Berlin, Germany, and 2,468 miles away from Brooklyn, New York, where, for seven years, I ran a twice-monthly vinyl club. It involved hauling two turntables and a mixer to our local bar in a granny cart so that I and several dozen friends and total strangers could play the same records we played in our teenage bedrooms, but with the beer we could now drink and the professional sound system we never had.

This is the same store where, during my unfortunate hair metal phase, I bought Bon Jovi and Cinderella. Its also where, three years ago, I rifled through the rare 45s box and came back with the first Green River single for our annual Grunge New Years Eve party. Its where I scored my first Dead Kennedys records (carefully hiding the parental advisory stickers) and my first Bauhaus T-shirt (later gifted by my little brother to his girlfriend, sadly). And its where, two nights ago, I had beer with my high school friend right before she snuck off to see a Peter Murphy acoustic set that ended with her giving him a surprise greeting in his tour bus.

Walking into his childhood record store after 20 years, Eric Spitznagel, journalist and author of the memoir Old Records Never Die, sees the usual posters arranged in seemingly haphazard order Tupac, Tom Waits, Dylan, the Ramones and writes: These were posters you might see in any record store in any city in the world and the placement felt comforting and familiar, like the stained glass windows at the church you went to growing up. Youd seen the same colors and designs a thousand times before, but somehow the windows in your church seemed unique and inimitable. So true, my friend, I think, swiping my debit card to pay for a T-shirt with the logo for my own imitable church of vinyl.

Picture Rob Gordon, the record-obsessed protagonist of Nick Hornbys High Fidelity, then add 10 years: At 45, Spitznagel has both a wife (Kelly, whom he met when both worked at Chicagos Second City) and the kid (a charming three-year-old named Charlie).

But while Robs records (temporarily) cost him his girl, our friend Eric has the family but misses his discs: sold throughout the 90s when selling records was a victimless crime, for beer money, tacos and Trader Joes wine (all six Clash albums including the Hitsville 7-inch! paid for a a week of groceries at the liquor store down the block). In his day job as an entertainment reporter he interviews Questlove, who tells Spitznagel he still has every record he ever owned, all 70,000 of them. Spitznagel, inspired, finds his mid-life mission (or crisis): never mind the mistress and the sports car, hes going to get his records back. And not just copies of the same records. No, this guy is out to get the exact same records he sold more than a decade before, which will lead him back to his childhood home, his college radio station, muddy crawl spaces, and the musty basement of some dude who, a few decades before, once owned his now-defunct hometown record store.

Vinyl is making a comeback, even among kids who never grew up with records (many of whom showed up at my vinyl nights). But for those of us of certain age born in the 70s, the generation who lost our collections to exes, moms basement clearing and iTunes the idea that one would know an album is ones own original copy is less lunatic than it first may seem. Records, writes Spitznagel, are are bulky, inconvenient, easily damaged objects. Vinyl is like skin that changes, in good and bad ways, over a lifetime. Skin gets damaged, intentionally or by accident maybe it gets burned, or tattooed or scarred but it always retains some of its original character. Its the same skin its just weathered some life.

Spitznagel has a few clues to go on: his copy of Elton Johns Greatest Hits smells like cherries from the Lions Club garage sale, held in 1977 in a former cherry processing plant. Billy Joels The Stranger smells like Calvin Kleins Obsession. The Replacements Let It Be smells like weed. Bon Jovis Livin on a Prayer will have a girls phone number from a 708 area code. Around this time, an overarching theme begins to emerge: the records he most wants involve hot girls from his past he either had sex with, or wanted to have sex with. Maybe were not so far from the mistress and the sports car after all.

Records, like comics, have long been considered a dude-centric pastime, and Spitznagel, whose previous six books include Planet Baywatch, Fast Forward (Confessions of a Porn Screenwriter), and Ron Jeremy: The Hardest (Working) Man in Show Business, isnt breaking any molds here. He compares selling his record collection to the guy who gets kissed by a hot girl and decides to get rid of his porn collection immediately because I wont be needing this anymore. At the Pixies reunion show, he sees a sea of fortysomething dudes with Black Francis man-nipples, (were there no Kim Deal fans in the audience?); at the Replacements reunion show, he mourns his uncool dad status. One is tempted to remind him that Westerberg, now 56, is also a dad, and that chicks, too I am one own Let it Be, on TwinTone.

When he goes to a record swap, I laughed at the line when he realizes that harrowing moment when you realize the only thing separating you and a civil war re-enactor is better underwear but wondered if he may have passed, say, the divorced fortysomething mother who used to DJ with me twice a month and whose teenage kids now buy her records for every holiday and birthday. And when he blows the daycare money buying records in Nashville prompting a VHS cassette of Cocksucker Blues to be hurled at the wall by his exasperated wife I thought of the hundreds of hours I have spent crate-diving and DJing next to my own boyfriend, and say, my married friends Jake and Lisa who host their own DJ show together. Arent there any records Kelly might like? If they cant get a babysitter to make date night to the reunion shows, couldnt he at least make the woman a mixtape?

But around this time, Spitznagel seems to be thinking along the same lines. When he finally scores a copy of Van Morrisons Dweller on the Threshold, the song that was playing when he lost his virginity no wait, when he first realized sex could be fun he admits he finds it totally unsettling to see his three-year-old son do a silly interpretive dance to a song whose only other association from me were three months in the early 90s when I was having regular wild-monkey sex with a sexy blonde on a busted-ass futon. And around this time Kelly, too, begins to ask some questions.

Is this the same girl whose number is on that Bon Jovi record? What? Oh no, thats a totally different girl. Do any of these records you want have stories that dont involve women youve slept with?

Around then, like Hornbys Rob Gordon, Spitznagel gets the message: its time to play grownup. He finally looks for a way to use his records to connect himself to his past: childhood friends, his family home, and the actual family he has now. There are field trips to his old college radio station (where he and a friend hang at their old fraternity house and depress the hell out of its current inhabitants by informing them that Nobody tells you that the girl you titty-fucked in the bar restroom when you were 20 is going to get breast cancer in 20 years and you will go to her funeral with very complicated emotions.) There is a hilarious incident involving a dessicated box of 1978 Boo Berry crunch, and a woman or two from the past show up to provide non-marriage-ruining plotlines of their own.

Oh, and yeah, he scores a few records along the way. Were they the droids he was looking for? Well, lets just say he finds a few whose scars may well have been inflicted by his younger self, bangs up a few more in the process, and he and his family and friends make up the rest. But as any crate digger knows, its all about the hunt. Meanwhile, back here at my old record store, some dude blasts past blaring and singing and fist-pumping along to Toto. Hurry boy, its waiting there for you!

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/old-records-never-die-by-eric-spitznagel-the-real-high-fidelity/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/178992898197

[allofbeercom]

Old Records Never Die by Eric Spitznagel – the real High Fidelity

Eric Spitznagels account of a chase for old albums ends up as a tale of a midlife crisis, albeit one which sadly neglects to notice that women, too, love vinyl

I am writing this review at my teenage record store in Boise, Idaho. According to Google Maps I am approximately 5,147 miles away from my current home in Berlin, Germany, and 2,468 miles away from Brooklyn, New York, where, for seven years, I ran a twice-monthly vinyl club. It involved hauling two turntables and a mixer to our local bar in a granny cart so that I and several dozen friends and total strangers could play the same records we played in our teenage bedrooms, but with the beer we could now drink and the professional sound system we never had.

This is the same store where, during my unfortunate hair metal phase, I bought Bon Jovi and Cinderella. Its also where, three years ago, I rifled through the rare 45s box and came back with the first Green River single for our annual Grunge New Years Eve party. Its where I scored my first Dead Kennedys records (carefully hiding the parental advisory stickers) and my first Bauhaus T-shirt (later gifted by my little brother to his girlfriend, sadly). And its where, two nights ago, I had beer with my high school friend right before she snuck off to see a Peter Murphy acoustic set that ended with her giving him a surprise greeting in his tour bus.

Walking into his childhood record store after 20 years, Eric Spitznagel, journalist and author of the memoir Old Records Never Die, sees the usual posters arranged in seemingly haphazard order Tupac, Tom Waits, Dylan, the Ramones and writes: These were posters you might see in any record store in any city in the world and the placement felt comforting and familiar, like the stained glass windows at the church you went to growing up. Youd seen the same colors and designs a thousand times before, but somehow the windows in your church seemed unique and inimitable. So true, my friend, I think, swiping my debit card to pay for a T-shirt with the logo for my own imitable church of vinyl.

Picture Rob Gordon, the record-obsessed protagonist of Nick Hornbys High Fidelity, then add 10 years: At 45, Spitznagel has both a wife (Kelly, whom he met when both worked at Chicagos Second City) and the kid (a charming three-year-old named Charlie).

But while Robs records (temporarily) cost him his girl, our friend Eric has the family but misses his discs: sold throughout the 90s when selling records was a victimless crime, for beer money, tacos and Trader Joes wine (all six Clash albums including the Hitsville 7-inch! paid for a a week of groceries at the liquor store down the block). In his day job as an entertainment reporter he interviews Questlove, who tells Spitznagel he still has every record he ever owned, all 70,000 of them. Spitznagel, inspired, finds his mid-life mission (or crisis): never mind the mistress and the sports car, hes going to get his records back. And not just copies of the same records. No, this guy is out to get the exact same records he sold more than a decade before, which will lead him back to his childhood home, his college radio station, muddy crawl spaces, and the musty basement of some dude who, a few decades before, once owned his now-defunct hometown record store.

Vinyl is making a comeback, even among kids who never grew up with records (many of whom showed up at my vinyl nights). But for those of us of certain age born in the 70s, the generation who lost our collections to exes, moms basement clearing and iTunes the idea that one would know an album is ones own original copy is less lunatic than it first may seem. Records, writes Spitznagel, are are bulky, inconvenient, easily damaged objects. Vinyl is like skin that changes, in good and bad ways, over a lifetime. Skin gets damaged, intentionally or by accident maybe it gets burned, or tattooed or scarred but it always retains some of its original character. Its the same skin its just weathered some life.

Spitznagel has a few clues to go on: his copy of Elton Johns Greatest Hits smells like cherries from the Lions Club garage sale, held in 1977 in a former cherry processing plant. Billy Joels The Stranger smells like Calvin Kleins Obsession. The Replacements Let It Be smells like weed. Bon Jovis Livin on a Prayer will have a girls phone number from a 708 area code. Around this time, an overarching theme begins to emerge: the records he most wants involve hot girls from his past he either had sex with, or wanted to have sex with. Maybe were not so far from the mistress and the sports car after all.

Records, like comics, have long been considered a dude-centric pastime, and Spitznagel, whose previous six books include Planet Baywatch, Fast Forward (Confessions of a Porn Screenwriter), and Ron Jeremy: The Hardest (Working) Man in Show Business, isnt breaking any molds here. He compares selling his record collection to the guy who gets kissed by a hot girl and decides to get rid of his porn collection immediately because I wont be needing this anymore. At the Pixies reunion show, he sees a sea of fortysomething dudes with Black Francis man-nipples, (were there no Kim Deal fans in the audience?); at the Replacements reunion show, he mourns his uncool dad status. One is tempted to remind him that Westerberg, now 56, is also a dad, and that chicks, too I am one own Let it Be, on TwinTone.

When he goes to a record swap, I laughed at the line when he realizes that harrowing moment when you realize the only thing separating you and a civil war re-enactor is better underwear but wondered if he may have passed, say, the divorced fortysomething mother who used to DJ with me twice a month and whose teenage kids now buy her records for every holiday and birthday. And when he blows the daycare money buying records in Nashville prompting a VHS cassette of Cocksucker Blues to be hurled at the wall by his exasperated wife I thought of the hundreds of hours I have spent crate-diving and DJing next to my own boyfriend, and say, my married friends Jake and Lisa who host their own DJ show together. Arent there any records Kelly might like? If they cant get a babysitter to make date night to the reunion shows, couldnt he at least make the woman a mixtape?

But around this time, Spitznagel seems to be thinking along the same lines. When he finally scores a copy of Van Morrisons Dweller on the Threshold, the song that was playing when he lost his virginity no wait, when he first realized sex could be fun he admits he finds it totally unsettling to see his three-year-old son do a silly interpretive dance to a song whose only other association from me were three months in the early 90s when I was having regular wild-monkey sex with a sexy blonde on a busted-ass futon. And around this time Kelly, too, begins to ask some questions.

Is this the same girl whose number is on that Bon Jovi record? What? Oh no, thats a totally different girl. Do any of these records you want have stories that dont involve women youve slept with?

Around then, like Hornbys Rob Gordon, Spitznagel gets the message: its time to play grownup. He finally looks for a way to use his records to connect himself to his past: childhood friends, his family home, and the actual family he has now. There are field trips to his old college radio station (where he and a friend hang at their old fraternity house and depress the hell out of its current inhabitants by informing them that Nobody tells you that the girl you titty-fucked in the bar restroom when you were 20 is going to get breast cancer in 20 years and you will go to her funeral with very complicated emotions.) There is a hilarious incident involving a dessicated box of 1978 Boo Berry crunch, and a woman or two from the past show up to provide non-marriage-ruining plotlines of their own.

Oh, and yeah, he scores a few records along the way. Were they the droids he was looking for? Well, lets just say he finds a few whose scars may well have been inflicted by his younger self, bangs up a few more in the process, and he and his family and friends make up the rest. But as any crate digger knows, its all about the hunt. Meanwhile, back here at my old record store, some dude blasts past blaring and singing and fist-pumping along to Toto. Hurry boy, its waiting there for you!

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/old-records-never-die-by-eric-spitznagel-the-real-high-fidelity/

[i-get-lonley-in-long-showers]

Comics can heal depression?

Depression

Depression it's something we all have had to deal with and its very hard to deal with, different people have different ways of doing so. If your reading this then it is safe to say you yourself are or have felt depressed, the most important thing is to know your not alone it's so cliche to say but it is true.

I my self have faced depression some days i couldn't face getting out of bed all i wanted to do is sleep for days at a time, I say when you truly are depressed your are silent because you feel alone i'm sorry but if you're depressed and keep posting on social media about it then you just want attention.

But for those of use that are hurting you properly thinking why is a blogger that writes about comics talking about depression. Well between the ages of 16-18 i was massively depressed and i thought it wouldn't change that there was no end in sight and no one i knew could relate to the situation i was in so i turned to the one thing in my life which was always there and that was comics.

All my life i had been reading comics but in my state of depression i found something new in them, these heroes which i use to think never got down never had a bad day but they did they did indeed lets take spider man for example (at the time of my depression the event of secret wars did not happen so the all new all different marvel didn't exist) at first glance hes just a happy go lucky teenage boy that fights crime. But lets take a deeper look he lost his parents that's tough on anyone let alone a young boy, then he got his powers and his only farther figure was killed losing yet another family member. Then things started to look up when he fell in love with Gwen but was taken from him and broke his heart we all can relate to that break ups hurt but i noticed one thing he did one thing that made me start to get out of my depression. He kept on going he kept on putting on that mask and fighting crime because people needed him he had a responsibility and he knew that.

I would like to talk about a character that if anyone who knows me will tell you i love and adore and that is of course the merc with a mouth Deadpool. I know what your thinking " I saw Deadpool he was making jokes all the time how could he be depressed" well of course there is a lot more too him in the comics than the film which i will get into later but first let me talk about the on screen adaptation of Deadpool. First it hinted at that wade wilson has a very unhappy past due to his childhood so he turned to the armed forces and merc life to find some sort of meaning which didn't work. But then he finds love and all is good but as wade said himself life is brief commercial like breaks of happiness and his break was over because he got one of the worst illnesses known to mankind. Caner its safe to say we have all been effected by this evil illness once in our life either a friend or loved one or even yourself and it doesn't take a person of Reed Richards IQ to tell you that will cause depression. Then poor Deadpool goes through all that treatment gets his face messed up and has to fight to get the women he loves back, and all the jokes all the one liners are a cloaking mechanism that even i will admit i do as well. To quote Deadpool again "ha fake laugh hiding real pain"

Now lets look at he comics Deadpool in the comics has pretty much been through the same as he did in his film with a few differences i wont get into here, even at some point he thought he lost is daughter and the mother of his child in North Korea (its a hole thing look it up) but the main thing that causes Deadpool depression is the fact he knows that by breaking the fourth wall he is a fictional character made up for other peoples amusement. think about that knowing that the hole reason you exist is because it causes people you don't even know or have ever met entertainment. Now you may be thinking this is a little far fetched well no lets take one of the greatest actors/comedians of all time into account Robin Williams the man was always making jokes making people smile its what he loved to do but that and of course other reasons is what caused his depression always being the funny guy and having to be the guy to make you laugh isnt easy sometimes people like that just wanna relax and have other people cheer them up for a change. Smiles have been known to hide great sorrow just remember that.

This is almost over so don't worry wont have to read my ramblings on anymore i just want to leave you with the notion that you are not alone and if you are suffering from depression then please seek help if not from a doctor then a family member or a friend, there is always someone out there for you to talk to. You are not alone.