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It’s Not You Pt.10
a/n: I will be writing a few chapters focusing on their time together during winter break, so be prepared for fluff fluff and more fluff
No wonder Dean liked the Impala. The car was perfect. The seats were comfortable, there was lots of space, it was sleek and shiny, and, best of all, it smelled like Dean. Cas couldn’t quite explain what Dean smelled like, though. It was a mix of car oil, leather, and pine, but with something sweeter mixed in, too. It didn’t matter though, because it drove Cas crazy. Absolutely crazy.
“Turn on the blinker, you fucking moron!” Cas had been previously staring out the window, watching the snow covered trees slip by, but he now turned his head back to Dean. It seems as if he wasn’t the only crazy one here.
It was a Saturday. More specifically, it was the Saturday right after the day that schools let out their students for winter break. Most of the kids at Cas’s college had decided to go home on Friday, and in hopes of avoiding traffic, Cas and Dean had slept over on campus and woke up early Saturday morning, ready to leave. Sam had also left on Friday. He had decided to stay with Gabe at Gabe’s apartment, but his usual two hour drive to Gabe’s turned into a five hour long road trip due to the sheer amount of cars on the road. Cas and Dean may have avoided the heavier traffic the day before, but people were still streaming to get to their vacation spots. The highways were stuffed to the brim with cars, and Cas never realized until now what bad road rage Dean had.
They had passed the first hour or two somewhat peacefully. Dean had pointed to various stains and scratches on the seats and interior of the car, explaining how they got there. One particular blue colored patch of leather beneath Cas was apparently from the time that Sam had fallen asleep with a blue lollipop in his mouth as a kid, and the blue drool had gotten on the seat. There was also the toy soldier, stuck in the ashtray in the back, not to mention the legos that rattled in the heaters. What Dean was most proud of, though, was the carved DW and SW on the inside of the car, no doubt the brothers’ initials. Cas suddenly wondered if he’d ever have the chance to carve a CW alongside them.
“If you don’t use the blinkers, you might as well shove them up your asses!” Dean was still grumbling to himself about the car that had cut him off on the road. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and if looks could kill, most of the drivers in sight would have died long ago. But, in all honesty, it was a bit amusing. Cas rarely saw Dean in a bad mood, and the curses and threats he kept throwing at people that couldn’t even hear him were very creative.
“Dean, they can’t hear you.”
With a glower at Cas, Dean opened the window and craned his neck out, yelling an extremely loud “Fuck you!” to the long line of cars. When he got no response, Dean stuck his head back in and rolled up the window. There were now snowflakes littering his hair, and with a smile Cas reached out and brushed them off.
Dean seemed to soften at that, and sent an apologetic smile Cas’s way.
Cas’s victory was short-lived, because the car in front of them stopped abruptly, sending Dean into yet another cursing spree.
Cas sighed. This was going to be a long drive.
*****
Cas hadn’t seen his house or his mother in weeks. She was constantly busy with her job as a travel nurse, and was usually away on weekends. They had both decided beforehand that it would have been better if Cas stayed at the college over the weekends, mostly because he’d have nobody to talk to at home. But this time her boss had let her take a few days off so that she could celebrate Christmas with Cas and Dean. Cas smiled to himself as he imagined the ugly sweaters she had no doubt knit for both of them.
His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when Dean rounded the last corner and drove up to Cas’s house. It looked exactly like he remembered. Two stories, white shutters, blue siding. The Christmas lights weren’t up yet, and Cas had the feeling that his mother would make him put them up later.
The Impala purred to a stop, and both boys ducked out of the car. Dean went around back to get the bags, but when Cas started that way too, Dean waved his hand and gestured to Cas that he’d handle it. Grinning and blowing Dean a kiss, Cas took a deep breath and walked up the steps to the front door.
He looked down at himself. Dean had bought him the sweater that he was currently wearing, and Cas quickly wondered what his mom would think of the bear on it. His shoes were still the same ones he had left home in, although they looked less new than they did before. Cas caught a look at himself in one of the windows, and quickly smoothed his hair down.
“Relax, angel, you look fine.” Dean’s voice in his ear made Cas jump, which prompted Dean to chuckle. But despite his reassuring comment, Cas saw that Dean was just as nervous as he was, maybe more. Dean had his hands full of bags, and he was fidgeting with the wrappers on the presents and shifting from foot to foot. Dean’s mom had died when he was a kid, and Cas knew that Dean never had any real experiences with having a mother figure in his life. As he rang the doorbell, Cas decided to thank God that his mother was the way she was. She could be exactly what Dean was missing.
They didn’t even have to wait a full minute before the door was swinging open and they were greeted with the smiling face of Cas’s mom. All of his time without her came crashing down on Cas, and he launched himself into her arms. She smelled like cookies and butter and all good things. Her arms wrapped around him, and Cas realized just how much he had missed his mom during his time away at college.
His mother released him with a gasp and lunged forward at Dean, who was still standing on the porch, his arms piled high with bags. She ushered him into the house and immediately started relieving him of his baggage. Dean was looking a bit shocked, and his eyes travelled around the house, taking everything in.
He let out a surprised squeak when Cas’s mom finally freed him of the last bag and proceeded to envelop him in a hug. Cas giggled at his discomfort, firmly deciding that he’d tease Dean about it later.
“It’s, umm, it’s nice to finally meet you Mrs. Novak-” Dean began, but was quickly cut off when Cas’s mom pulled back and placed a finger to his lips, shaking her head.
“Now, now, there will be none of that. You can call me Claire. No formalities here.” She took her finger off of his lips, instead running her hand through his hair. “Let’s take a look at you.”
Her eyes raked him over, and Cas tried to contain his laughter at Dean’s helpless glances as her hands cupped his face.
“Well, you’re very pretty. And your eyes are so green.” She turned her head and winked at Cas. “You got yourself a good one, angel.” Cas couldn’t agree more. She then slapped Dean on the butt, which Dean was obviously not expecting. “Make sure you keep him.”
Claire then gathered the bags and presents in her arms and bustled out of the room, leaving a very distraught and confused looking Dean in her wake. As soon as she disappeared into the kitchen, Cas burst out laughing. Dean’s mortified face did nothing to help, and it was a full minute before Cas got himself under control.
Still giggling every few seconds, Cas looped his arm through Dean’s and decided to give him a tour of the house. Dean’s eyes hungrily took in the picture frames on the walls and books on the shelves. Now it was Cas’s turn to do the explaining. He gestured to couches and corners, relaying stories and memories from his childhood. Dean listened to everything with interest, although his face still hadn’t lost its blush from his encounter with Cas’s mom.
They passed the living room. The Christmas tree was already up, but there were no ornaments on it yet. Cas yet again guessed that the task of decorating it would be assigned to him.
Dean’s face lit up when he saw the kitchen. Cas remembered all of Sam’s stories about Dean’s love for cooking, and smiled at the spark in Dean’s eyes as he saw the accommodating baking space. Claire was now rushing about, preparing dinner for them. When she caught them trying to peek inside the oven, she shooed them out of the kitchen, claiming that she’d call them down when she was ready.
So Cas and Dean trudged upstairs, picking up the bags Claire had left at the foot of the stairs. First, Cas showed Dean the guest room, where Dean would be staying. He had his own TV and bathroom, and Dean looked overjoyed when he saw that he had a bathtub instead of a shower.
Then, with Dean’s prompting, Cas led Dean to his room.
Dean whistled as Cas opened the door. The walls were covered with posters of Bruno Mars, as well as photo collages of Cas with his family in various foreighn countries. Blushing a bit, Cas tried to stand in front of his vast LEGO collection as to hide it from view, but to no avail. Dean had outright laughed when he saw the many many Lord of the Rings LEGO sets Cas had. Picking up the Legolas, Dean disconnected the legs and held the figurine out to Cas.
“Look. A legless LEGO Legolas.”
That sent both of them into a fit of giggles, and even after they stopped laughing, Cas couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off his face.
“Well,” Dean finally sighed and sat on the bed. “It’s better than any motel room I’ve ever been in.” His eyes then went wide, and he fell back and spread out on Cas’s bed. He turned his head towards Cas and said, “This mattress is so much more comfortable than your college one.”
Cas chuckled and nodded, about to jump in alongside him, when his mom’s voice carried up from the kitchen, announcing that dinner was ready. Smiling, Dean heaved himself off the bed and they walked downstairs, hand in hand.
“Mom!” Cas protested and rolled his eyes when he saw her standing at the table with a camera, already having snapped a few pictures of them holding hands.
“Sit sit sit.” She gestured at the chairs, and when they did so laughing, she put the camera up and said, “Smile!”
Her grin turned into a small frown as she looked at the product, and insisted that they take another one because the lighting wasn’t right in the first. And another one after that. And another one. And another one.
Cas finally managed to convince her to put the camera away and sit down with them. They started eating.
Claire had really outdone herself this time. She had made lasagna, which she knew was Cas’s favorite dish. Along with a salad, she had made mashed potatoes and gravy, as well as garlic bread. Dean was obviously not used to meals like this, and he piled a little bit of everything onto his plate.
“So. Dean Winchester. Cas has told me a lot about you.”
Dean swallowed his lasagna down quickly and nodded, preparing himself for a series of questions.
“But what he hadn’t told me, was what a gorgeous car you have.” That was probably the last thing that Dean had expected, and he quickly shot her a grin and straightened his back.
“She sure is. Her name is Baby, and she’s a-”
“1967 Chevy Impala?” Claire finished for him, and Dean’s surprised look turned into one of respect. Cas knew that whoever liked anything about Baby was immediately put on Dean’s Nice List.
It was amusing, really; the way that Dean and Claire got along. After Dean got over the initial shock of having his ass slapped by a forty year old woman, he hit it off with Cas’s mom. They shared a love for cars, and Cas had to stop himself from laughing when the conversation had turned to needlework. Apparently, Dean was excellent at sewing, due to the fact that he constantly stitched up Sam’s ripped clothes when they were children.
Claire looked a little disappointed when Dean had said that he didn’t knit, but her question had obviously reminded her of something, because she had left the table and quickly ran upstairs. While she was shuffling around, Dean turned to Cas with a mouthful of potatoes and a grin on his face.
“I love your mom.” He mouthed to Cas, and speared another forful of lasagna into his mouth.
Cas snorted and nudged Dean with his elbow. “I thought you loved me.”
Dean winked at him. “She’s a close second, though.”
Claire returned then with two packages in her arms and a mischievous smile. “I know I’ll forget later, so you boys better open these right now.”
Dean and Cas happily pushed themselves away from the table and were each handed a package. And, just as Cas had predicted, under the wrapping paper there was a bright neon green handmade ugly sweater waiting for him. He quickly shrugged off his current sweater and replaced it with his mom’s new one. He heard Dean’s small laugh and turned around to see Dean sporting his own ugly sweater, but his was red.
“Smile!” Came his mom’s voice, and both boys turned around as Dean slung an arm around Cas’s shoulder, who in turn wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist. She took a few pictures, then ushered them back to the table.
“You better not get any food on them, or I’ll kill you.”
Cas and Dean looked at each other and laughed.
*****
When the meal was over, Dean insisted on taking their dishes to the sink and washing them, which Cas helped him with. They put on the radio, and soon the three of them were singing along to all the Christmas songs that came on. Cas and Dean were standing side by side, swaying along to the music, hips bumping into each other. They came close to starting a soap war with the bubbles, but Cas knew that his mother would never forgive them if he got her kitchen dirty. Therefore the fighting was kept to a minimum, and although the kitchen remained clean, the same could not be said for the boys, which had soap suds in their harid and bubbles on their clothes.
The dishes were clean and dry in less than half an hour, and Claire declared that she was turning in for the night. While Cas and Dean had been washing the dishes, she had been setting up the fireplace, which was now alive with a soft, warm glow.
As they came into the living room, Cas and Dean saw that she had arranged blankets on the floor near the fireplace, along with a bunch of pillows. Dean let out a small sigh at the inviting picture, and squeezed Cas’s hand. Smiling, Cas was about to step forward and hug his mom, but she just shook her head and pointed above their heads. They looked up and came face to face with mistletoe.
Laughing at his mom’s schemes, Cas lowered his gaze to Dean. Dean, who looked like the luckiest man on Earth. His eyes were brighter than Cas had ever seen, and his face was glowing with joy. And then he was leaning down and pressing his lips to Cas’s, and this kiss was so full of love and passion that Cas’s knees went soft. Dean’s strong arms held him up, and Cas allowed himself to melt into his soulmate’s embrace.
Everything was perfect here with Dean, under the mistletoe. Their stomachs were filled to the brim with warm food, and there were blankets and pillows waiting for them by the fire. And Cas was happy. Happier than he had ever been in his entire life.
Cas heard the clicks of his mom’s camera behind them, but for once, he didn’t mind.
#supernatural#dean winchester#destiel#sastiel#castiel novak#gabriel novak#sam winchester#soulmate au#college au#fluff#winter break#christmas#destiel fic#it's not you
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Soul Glitches
Chapter 1
A/N: So I’ve been playing Mass Effect and I guess you’ve seen James Vega and his muscles since you’re here... yeah, so this is the result :))
Writing this for fun, maybe a little rough around the edges and lightly unedited :)) Just so we’re clear, it’s a James x non Shepard OC.
Warnings: none i think... yet
I like making collages, sue me!
Jun sat in a dark corner of the hallway, right leg bouncing rapidly for the past half hour. Shepard's hearing was being delayed and it couldn't mean anything good. Officers were rushing in and out of the main chamber, each wearing a perfect mask of calmness on their faces, but the hurried steps and careful whispers were a clear indication something was up. But there was no way in hell they were going to actually charge the commander with anything, right? After all, they were saved, once more, because of her.
She thought back on the last mission, the one that all thought was going to be a one way trip through the Omega 4 relay and cold shiver ran through her spine. Maybe they were pushing their luck a little, but facts were facts and all of them painted Shepard as a god dammed hero. She was bought out of her momentary trance when a ruckus came down the hall. Soon enough she spotted the commander, her confident stride making the lower ranked officers part out of her way. Getting up from her spot in the shadows she joined the other woman in her march towards the hearing, completely ignoring the marine in her tow.
"Something's up, Shepard."
"Any idea what?"
"No. Whatever it is, they're keeping it tight." They paused and shared a look. Something was brewing in Shepard's mind; you could almost see the cogs running in overtime. Jun was about to ask what was the plain if things went south when the heavy doors slid open revealing none other than Kaidan Alenko. Now, she didn't have anything against the lieutenant per se, but he could be such an ass. She knew for a fact the commander was head over heels for the guy and she just couldn't see why… First human specter, war hero and the best damn leader she served under and the woman chose that chump…
She sighed, spacing out their entire conversation, pondering on love and its apparent unique ability to make even the greatest people dumb. When Anderson came and escorted the commander, she gave Jun one last look and she nodded: she'd be waiting right there, ready to bust them out if needed. If the Alliance refused to see the reapers as a real and imminent threat they'd find help somewhere else.
"You know the commander?
"I used to." Jun scoffed a little too loudly, making the two men turned towards her with questioning looks.
"You're such a moron, I swear…"
"Good to see you again, Jun."
"If only it were mutual."
"Look, I'm so-"
"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, you dimwit." Kaidan gaze fell to the ground, shaking his head.
"I get it you two know each other."
"Unfortunately." She eyed the recently promoted major with all the disgust she could muster until Kaidan let out a defeated sigh and went on his merry way. She told herself again that she did not truly hate the guy, but it was getting harder and harder not to. As strong as Shepard was, his mistrust in her had left a mark no matter how hard she denied it. Shaking her head to get Alenko out of her mind, she turned towards the marine and extended her hand towards him.
"I'm sorry for that, he just really gets on my nerves. I'm Jun Saros." He shook her hand with a steady grip and she couldn't help notice the veins along his forearm. Damn he was bulky.
"Lieutenant James Vega. You two got history?"
"God no! He's just the biggest drama queen when you least expect it." He eyed her up and down, a smirk forming in the corner of his lips. Damn that scar was sexy.
"His loss." Jun was taken aback by the comment, but found herself smiling nevertheless. With all that had transpired in the past years, her accident, Cerberus, the Collectors, she found his little quip refreshing. A dip in normality. When was the last time she just chatted with someone without looming threats over their shoulder?
She raised an eyebrow, lips parted to give him a comeback, but her words were drowned down by an explosion. The ground shook violently, windows clattering and breaking. Outside, massive shadows were landing in the distance, red lasers shooting in every direction. Jun turned to reach the hearing room, but was interrupted when an entire section of the wall collapsed, blocking the door. She was grabbed by her shoulder non too gently by James and pulled along further down the corridor as alarms started going off and people dashed towards safety. She tried the com link as she barely kept up with the marine's pace.
"Shepard?"
"Jun, Anderson and I are cut off the main exit. Head towards the landing zone and meet us at the Normandy."
"Understood." She looked one more at the reaper just outside the city lines and cursed under her breath. They were nowhere near prepared for this! "Vega, we need to get to the Normandy."
The man nodded and took a sharp left making Jun almost loose her balance when she spun at the last second. If the building wasn't collapsing behind them she would have laughed at the silliness of it. James led them towards the exit, or better said to what was once the exit. A metal plaque cut through the doorway, wires spiking with electricity dangling from the sides. She took her omni-tool and cast a shield around them, giving the marine a curt nod before heading outside.
To say the city was in shambles would have been the understatement of the century. Barely any buildings stood unscathed, shuttles were evacuating civilians as military airships were going headfirst towards the reaper forces. She didn't have much time to register everything as James took off, jumping on a railing and turning towards her, hand outstretched.
"Come on!" Purposefully avoiding to look closer at the unstable looking path he'd chosen, Jun took his hand reluctantly. They were sitting ducks there, but the open space and the reaper in the distance made her stomach turn.
"How much further?"
"Are you scared of heights, princess?"
"Less of heights, more of giant lasers and being burned alive, you know?" He might have chuckled, but it was hard for her to tell between the explosions, alarms and people screaming. She turned towards a group of officers trying to pry off a metal chunk of a colleague's leg. The decision was made in a split second.
"We're almost ther- what are you doing?" She jumped down on the level below, preparing her onmi-tool and kneeling down besides the man.
"This should stop the bleeding, but you should still get him checked…" The words died in her throat. In all this madness there was little hope they would manage to get him a doctor anytime soon. The soldiers seemed to acknowledge this as well.
"Thank you ma'am. This will give him some more time." They hauled the poor unconscious guy over their shoulders and ducked for cover as a laser was shot towards them. It felt like she was hit by a train when James rolled them behind a sturdy looking column, the air leaving her lungs. She grasped his arms for support as she desperately tried to get some oxygen back in.
"Sorry…" James took in her form once more. She was lean, but nowhere near in military shape, her hands delicate on his rough skin. He felt bad for manhandling her, yet couldn't help wonder how she got mixed in on the Normandy's crew. He remembered her name in the reports, but couldn't recall if there was any mentions of her training.
"No, n-"The words stuck in her throat and she coughed a bit more before regaining a steady breathing, her grip loosening. "Thank you. Beats being burned alive."
"Right, let's get moving." He could have gotten to the ship already if he were on his own, he wanted to get to the action and blast those sons of bitches off their planet as quickly as possible. But he couldn't leave Shepard's little friend behind. The commander and Anderson seemed to trust her.
The Normandy came into view and they made a run for it. He jumped on the air lock and turned to help the woman, but she was already midair, a little drone pushing at her back. She dusted off when she landed besides him and raised an eyebrow at the look she was giving him.
"What? I'm more capable than I look." She put out her tongue in a child like protest and he wondered again how she survived that suicide mission. Dumb luck was all he could think of. They headed further inside the ship, in hopes Shepard and Anderson would have already gotten there, when a voice sounded through the ship's coms.
"Jun! Good to have you back on the Normandy."
"Joker, I already feel safer." James followed her to the elevator, unsure of the ship's layout. "Are Shepard and Anderson here?"
"We're picking them up now. You should get to the war room, the commander will be there soon."
It didn't take long between the moment they arrived in the room, the ship turning away from Earth, the commander entering, no Anderson in sight, and admiral Hackett's message. He didn't like the situation one bit. Leaving Earth was a coward move, even if the admiral had ordered them to Mars, James was not a part of Shepard's crew, he should have stayed with Anderson and fought for his planet! He was not stupid, he knew they most likely stood no chance without help from the aliens, but his fight was not in the politics of the Citadel, it was on the ground, were his people were being slaughtered. The heavy silence after the admiral's message was finally intercepted by Jun as she got up with a sigh.
"Starboard Observation Deck is MINE this time!"
Chapter 2 >
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Colour Correspondences
Written and Compiled by George Knowles
Colour plays a powerful role in ritual Witchcraft and Magick. Colours are carefully considered and assigned to all aspects of Spell making, Ritual magick and Festivals.
Colours have symbolic associations representing occult powers, and have their own energy frequencies that emanate specific influences. Careful consideration needs to be given to colour correspondences when used with Candles, Clothing, Symbols, Deities influences, Planetary influences, Zodiacal influences and Magickal Days. The use of colour is also important to our meditation and visualisation techniques.
Below is a list of colours and their associations. For further associations and correspondences see:
Black - Is used to invoke the power of Saturn. Contrary to popular belief, black does not indicate evil. Far from it, black is the absence of colour. It is protective and symbolises the night, the universe and the lack of falsehood. Black is symbolic of the blackness of outer space and considered the ultimate source of divine energy.
Black is used for dealing with such matters as: Binding, Patience, Stability, Neutralisation, Material Gain, Protection, Karma, Death, Manifestation, Structure’s, Reality, Laws of society, Limits, Obstacles, Tests, Handwork, Real Estate, Dentists, Bones, Teeth, Farm Workers, Sacrifice, Separation, Stalkers, Murderers, Criminals, Civil Servants, Justice, Math’s, Plumbing, Wills, Debts, Financing, Discoveries, Transformation and Relations with Older People.
Blue - Is used to induce the power of Jupiter. Blue is a Goddess colour and the colour most associated with the elements of water.
Blue is used for dealing with such matter as: Wealth, Joy, Opportunity, Abundance, Elevation, Tranquillising, Aligning, Business, Logic, Gambling, Social matters, Political power, Material wealth, Publishing, Collage education, Long distance travel, Foreign interests, Religion, Philosophy, Forecasting, Broadcasting, Publicity, Expansion, Luck, Growth, Sport, Horses, Legal matters, Doctors, Guardians, Merchants, Psychologists, Charity, Correspondence courses, Self-improvement, Research, Reading and Studying. Also used to attune to the Goddess in her Oceanic aspect.
Brown - Is the element of Earth and is symbolic of endurance and animal health. Brown it a good colour for Grounding, Solidifying and Strengthening. It is also used for matters dealing with Material Increases, Eliminating Indecisiveness, Improving Concentration, Study, Telepathy, Increasing Financial Success, Locating Lost Property and anything to do with Animal matters.
Green - Induces the power of Venus and is symbolic of the Earth’s elements. It is used to influence such matters as: Herbal Magick, Luck, Fertility, Physical Healing, Balance, Prosperity, Courage, Change, Material Things, Peace, Harmony, Relationships and Success. Also used for Romantic Love, Friendship, Beauty, Soul-mates, Artistic Ability, Affection, Partners, Alliances, Grace, Luxury, Social Activity, Marriage, Decorating, Cosmetics, Gifts, Income, Gardening, Architects, Artists, Beauticians, Chiropractors, Dancers, Designers, Engineers, Entertainers, Fashion, Music, Painting, Poetry, Courtship, Dating, Household Improvements, Planning Parties and Shopping.
Gold - Induces the power of the Sun and is used to attune with the God. It brings Self-realisation and Inner-strength. Gold is used for such matters as: Health, Success, Careers, Goals, Ambition, Personnel Finances, Advancement, Drama, Fun, Authority, Figures, Law, Fairs, Crops, Totem Animals, Volunteer and Civic Services, Promotion, Men’s Mysteries, Children, Buying, Selling and Speculation. Also used for Physical Strength, Achievement, Healing Energy and Divination.
Pink - Induces the power of Venus but can be used to influence Mars. Pink represents: Love, Friendship and Harmony. Pink is also used for such matters as: Passion, Partnerships, Swift Movement, Action, Energy, Sex, Physical Energy, Sport, Muscular Activity, Cutting, Surgery, Buying and Selling Animals, Gardening, Woodworking and New Beginnings. Also Honour, Morality and the Emotions.
Purple - Induces the power of Mercury and influences Occult Forces, Hidden Aspects and Secret Dealings. Purple is used by those who work with pure divine power (Magicians, Priests and Priestesses) and those who wish to deepen their spiritual awareness of the God and Goddess. It is also used for such matters as: Wisdom, Healing, Communication, Intelligence, Memory, Education, Correspondences, Phone Calls, Computers, Messages, Students, Merchants, Editing, Writing, Advertising, Signing Contracts, Siblings, Neighbours, Kin, Accounting, Clerks, Critics, Music, Editors, Journalists, Visual Arts, Hiring Employee’s, Learning, Languages, Visiting Friends, Legal Appointments and Astrology. Also used for Spiritual Development, Intuition, Ambition, Progress, Occult Wisdom, Psychic Ability and the Third Eye (Divination).
Red - Induces the power of Mars and can be used to influence Saturn. It is used when attuning with the God in his fiery aspect. Red is the colour of Vitality, Power, Strength and Courage and is Invigorating, Motivating and Passionate. It is used to influence such matters as: Passion, Partnerships, Courage, Action, Physical Energy, Aggression, Sex, Physical Energy, Sport, Guns, Tools, Metals, Police, Soldiers, Combat, Confrontation, Business Deals, Buying and Selling, Mechanical Things, Repairs and Hunting.
Silver - Induces the power of the Moon and can be used with Mercury influences. It is used to attune to the Goddess while bringing the ability to respond to life’s energies. Also used for such matters as: Wisdom, Healing, Communication, Intelligence, Memory, Education, Correspondences, Phone Calls, Computers, Messages, Students, Merchants, Editing, Writing, Advertising, Signing Contracts, Siblings, Neighbours, Kin, Accounting, Clerks, Critics, Music, Editors, Journalists, Visual Arts, Hiring Employee’s, Learning, Languages, Visiting Friends, Legal Appointments and Astrology. Also used for Spiritual Development, Intuition, Ambition, Progress, Occult Wisdom, Psychic Ability and the Third Eye (Divination).
When attuned to the Goddess, silver is used for such matters as: Lunar Magick, Meditation, Psychic Development, Success, Balance, Warding off Negativity, Intuition, Dreams, and Astral Energy.
Yellow - Induces the power of the Sun and can be used to attune with the God. Also used to influence such matters as: Health, Success, Careers, Goals, Ambition, Personnel Finances, Advancement, Drama, Fun, Authority, Figures, Law, Fairs, Crops, Totem Animals, Volunteer and Civic Services, Promotion, Men’s Mysteries, Children, Buying, Selling and Speculation. Also used for Physical Strength, Achievement and Healing Energy.
Yellow is also representative of the Elements of Air, and as such is used for such matters as: Divination, Clairvoyance, Mental Alertness, Intellectual Growth, Prosperity, Harmony, Energising and Creativity.
White - Induces the power of the Moon and is used to attune with the Goddess. Can also be used with Venus and Saturn. Pure dazzling white light can be called upon to bring about: Realisation, Intention, Insight and power itself. It is also used to influence: Psychic Pursuits, Psychology, Dreams, Astral Travel, Imagination, Women’s Mysteries, Re-incarnation, Short Trip’s, Spirituality, Full moon magic, Purity, Protection, Truth, Meditation, Peace, Sincerity, Justice, Warding off Doubts and Fears.
Orange - Induces the power of Mercury and is sometimes used for solar energy. Representative of the God, it can be used and combined with other candles to simulate their actions. Also used to influence such matters as: Health, Strength, Luck, Vitality, Business Goals, Justice, Success, Ambition, Personal Finances, Buying, Selling, Speculating and Authority Figures.
Violet - Induces the power of Jupiter. Can be use to influence such matters as: Intuition, Self-improvement, Wealth, Joy, Opportunity, Abundance, Elevation, Business, Logic, Gambling, Social matters, Political power, Material wealth, Publishing, Collage education, Foreign interests, Religion, Philosophy, Forecasting, Broadcasting, Publicity, Expansion, Luck, Growth, Sport, Horses, Legal matters, Doctors, Guardians, Merchants, Psychologists, Charity, Correspondence courses, Research, Reading and Studying.
Indigo - Induces the power of Saturn. Indigo is the colour of inertia and is used to stop situations or people. Use in rituals that require a deep meditational state. It can also be used to influence such matters as: Binding, Patience, Stability, Neutralisation, Material Gain, Protection, Karma, Death, Manifestation, Structure’s, Reality, Laws of society, Limits, Obstacles, Tests, Handwork, Real Estate, Sacrifice, Separation, Stalkers, Murderers, Criminals, Civil Servants, Justice, Math’s, Wills, Debts, Financing, Discoveries, Transformation, Relations with Older People and for Warding off slander.
Lavender - Induces the power of Mercury to influence Occult Forces, Spiritual Development, Psychic Growth and Divination. Also used for such matters as: Wisdom, Healing, Communication, Intelligence, Memory, Education, Correspondences, Phone Calls, Computers, Messages, Students, Merchants, Editing, Writing, Advertising, Signing Contracts, Intuition, Ambition, Progress and Occult Wisdom.
Sources:
Candle Magic - By Phillip Cooper
Wicca, A guide for the Solitary Practitioner - By Scott Cunningham
Encyclopedia of Wicca & Witchcraft - By Raven Grimassi
To Stir a Magick Cauldron - By Silver Ravenwolf
https://www.controverscial.com/Colour%20Correspondences.htm
Picture http://momsawitch.blogspot.com
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Only the Vital Ones, Pt. 1
“In those days, desires weren’t allowed to become reality. So, fantasy was substituted for them–films, books, pictures. They called it ‘art.’ But, when your desires become reality, you don’t need fantasy any longer, or art.”–Amyl Nitrate, “Jubilee”
[ With Symbiotic Self-Indulgence, 3, Pts. I, II. ] [ The Uptake (table of contents)]
The small brushed steel kitchen table of Cecil and ‘Choly’s studio apartment abutted a full-height open-frame modular shelving unit, which doubled as a space divider between the kitchen and the daybed in the back corner that ‘Choly frequented whenever scaling the loft bed proved too taxing. Slumped at it in a dark tank top and his orange leggings, before the ex-stalker lay a quaint butcher-paper and twine parcel, a paring knife, and his reader on a kickstand. With the apartment to himself, ‘Choly surveyed some of the pieces in his drafts and rubbed at his marred face in a dull restlessness. Grazing his recent cheek suture, he flinched and stood, and he paced in the narrow track the length of the apartment which functioned not unlike a hallway.
Two years ago, such incisions would have been made in the spirit of verbot chasing. He sniveled in anger at the impotence of having had to make such a superficial adjustment for sake of his own clumsiness, rather than in the aftermath of risky enterprises. He'd tried several times to contact the Tellurides after the riots and subsequent quarantine, and he knew in his gut that all three of them had gotten walled up with the rest of the Quarter. And the Geek, and Chalcedony, too, for all he knew. His only solace came in knowing that at least his parents had moved back in together downstate before things had gotten especially hairy.
He returned to the kitchen and rinsed out a mug to pour himself a fresh cup of black coffee from the carafe Cecil had brewed for breakfast, and he sat again. Then, he snipped the string on the box and unfurled its wrappings. His horn-rimmed glasses came off and lay across the table from him as he continued massaging at his cheeks and chin and neck marbled with errant scars. He flicked up the messaging app frame and clicked on Augen’s active username, and sighed. Rather than initiate conversation, he produced from the small wax-coated cardstock box a decently-sized chalky pastel ball. He smoothed out the parchment with a detached free hand, and set down the ball of Confec atop it with the other.
The ball bore a mealy consistency somewhere between soap and fudge. A quarter-inch butt fell to the paper, and he stuck it in his mouth to let the hyssop-like bouquet melt on his tongue as he sank into his chair and hesitated on the chat he’d opened.
ketherphorbia: you’re up early 9augen: funny, i was just about to message you. not at the library today? ketherphorbia: no, and i’m not getting anywhere with what i <i>was</i> trying to do so you have my full attention 9augen: how does meeting up for lunch sound? ketherphorbia: i ketherphorbia: i just started in on a fresh confec bonbon, but yeah 9augen: the finnegans across the street from your old place? its on me ketherphorbia: something tells me you’re just looking for an excuse to milk their one-cred goldfinch lunch special 9augen: if you want a few, just say so. can you be there in... say, an hour? ketherphorbia: it honestly sounds fantastic. we can both talk. if you want
Still rattled from the abrupt invitation, ‘Choly put the knife in the sink and rounded the modular divider to rummage in the side-table drawers for something to throw on. First came his back brace, splints, and wrist braces, and he yanked together his salmon button-up, black sweater with the elbows cut out, and slashed jeans over the orange leggings. Taking his jewelry box into the bathroom, he then brushed his bangtails and tucked the right side back with his ABC-gum barrette. He hooked his new black acrylic skull-cutout gauge hangers into his ears, and plucked his balloon animal and saturn-symbol pendants to string around his neck. The spoon pin went in his left collar-point, and he sat on the daybed for his socks. On the way out the door, he tucked the wax paper wrapped Confec into his diamond-shaped cross-body bag and nabbed his cane, retrieved his glasses, and slipped into his mint creepers.
Along the short trip down to Level 5, he shot Cecil a short message:
|| Might not be home when you get off work. Augen invited me to lunch. He hasn’t said hardly a word since it happened, and I get the feeling he needs a friend right now. ||
Cecil replied to him as ‘Choly waved his pass and boarded the toll lift:
|| I can only imagine how hard it’s been for him. Hope he’s doing ok. You two have a good time. Love you. Give him a kiss for me ||
With a chuckle and a fish emoticon, ‘Choly exited the lift and hobbled down the street. He texted Augen that he'd arrived, asking where to meet him, because at first he didn't see him outside. Leaning on the front facade of the Finnegan’s, a tall gothic figure smoked religiously. The young man with dark hair pulled into a low messy bun wore a black button-down and drop-crotch pants, a dark grey knee-length gauzy vest, a large black shawl-scarf wrapped around his shoulders and neck, and mesh boots. Upon closer inspection, the combination of facial body mods--spider bites, gauged one-inch ears and 2ga medusa with glass plugs, symmetrical double brow piercings, and batwing clicker--confirmed for ‘Choly that this was his friend. Somehow, even with his suspicion as to why Augen had initiated the meeting, he’d still expected to find him his old self, and not this anxious chain-smoking human mess. Augen rolled his eyes at him, having just checked his messages.
“Word of warning, I’m a bit thrushed right now,” 'Choly blurted out. Rather than respond, Augen leaned down and steadied ‘Choly’s chin to give him a kiss. ‘Choly smiled strangely and reciprocated with a second peck, then navigated the awkward posture into a hug as he tucked his head against Augen’s chest. It unnerved 'Choly that his friend was no longer cold-blooded, no longer clammy and tepid, but he kept it to himself. “...Hello to you, too.”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Augen rubbed at ‘Choly’s scruff and held the door for him. He eyed ‘Choly’s sweater dully in passing. “<i>Don’t Quit Your Daydream</i>, huh?”<br>
‘Choly looked down at the saying printed on his front once they’d cleared the atrium, and his brows upturned.
“Hah, maladaptive daydreaming. Had it for years. I just kinda threw something on so I wouldn’t run late.”
“Daydream... into a living nightmare...”
With the detached comment, Augen waved down a server to seat them. Marinating in his dissociative veneer, ‘Choly swallowed hard at the prospect of purposefully navigating his mental filter. They settled at a table amid the lunch traffic, and with a series of finger gestures along the tabletop which doubled as a touchscreen menu, both ordered pinzones dorados and got to glancing over their options in silence. The server, a young brunet named Bert, promptly came and left with their drinks, as well as a basket of multicolored meal-rinds and two dishes of salsa. 'Choly sipped at his golden glowing pinzón, a smooth over-ice mix of tonic, hydroponic mezcal, triple sec, and lime liqueur, and mentally praised the facility with which one could get drunk at any hour in this city.
“So... this is a thing now.” ‘Choly got a rind real heavy with salsa and shoved it in his mouth.
Augen knocked back half his liquor in one motion, and slouched over it.
“I’d lived myself so fully, that I’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be human. I’ve missed smoking, if we’re looking for an upside to all this.”
“There’s gotta be a way t’get back what you had. At least some of it?”
“That’s... just about the last thing I want to talk about right now. Past tense doesn’t feel so great.”
They used their mouths to crunch rinds and nothing else. Augen took a hit off the cig around his neck, and with a deep exhale he shut his sunken eyes, the vapors entangling with the odd abstract light fixture over the table. Once they'd placed their orders, 'Choly did his best to people watch behind a zoned out Augen, mostly observing the rotation of three servers popping in and out of the kitchen door with dishes. When a couple that sat on the same side of their far-corner booth thought 'Choly gawked at their unapologetic PDAs and gave him a stink-eye, he coughed, and started trying to read the pattern of scrapbooked web articles which plastered every wall and the ceiling of the restaurant. The theme of all the articles painted up Tri-City's sheer melting pot culture as a fusion city, boasting a collage of articles about people from just about every level in the hyper-metroplex.
Bert interrupted their silence with their meals, and 'Choly squirmed back to give the server the space to lay it out on the table. The teen couldn't hide a sigh of relief as he picked up one plate, and glanced between the both of them.
"Who ordered the wraps?"
Augen gave him a lazy hand gesture, and the plate slid over to him. On Augen’s plate of spring wraps lay six large seared shrimp. Sliced in half both for presentation and facility, the three girthy wraps were stuffed with a combination of mushroom slices, seaweed, and fried mealworms.
"And then, the benedict's yours. Extra sauce?"
"Yes, thank you," 'Choly lauded with a heavily modulated affect, as the other mess of a plate came his way. A viscous pale yellow-green mess blanketed two nondescript mounds of protein and bread, and along its side the cook had scattered soft, colorful citrus gummies. "So glad I can still get breakfast here this late."
"Is there anyth--" Bert broke off, unable not to stare at Augen, as he fished out a pair of napkin-rolled utensils to give them. Augen returned the stare, deadpan.
"...Spring wraps, and a side order of shrimp. It is you."
‘Choly gave the poor boy a glossy smile, about to praise how good it all looked, but he quickly drooped in recognition of the tension.
“So I took a bath today,” Augen dismissed, total fatigue in his voice. “Big deal.”
‘Choly coughed, cataract-bloom eyes wide as he took a stiff sip. Setting the pinzón back down, he tried to smile up at the waiter again, his voice cracking.
"Could we get more rinds?"
The waiter shook his head and shut his eyes, then nodded.
“--Sure thing.”
“And we already need another round of <i>birds</i>.” Augen traced the edge of the faded glass with one black-polished finger and a heavy-lidded, eyelined smirk.
The server flashed him a fake grin, poorly hiding his revelry that the city had defanged the loathsome goth.
“I’ll be right back.”
‘Choly fought with the self-conscious selfishness of directing the conversation to himself, but still he persisted, hoping to distract his friend from getting recognized by his typical order. ‘Choly unrolled his flatware to tuck the napkin beside his plate, and took up the table knife and fork with zeal. He didn’t want to admit it, but as had become typical in the past few weeks, the only thing he’d put in his stomach so far by that time of day was a slice of wax and half a cup of coffee. Augen took precise bites, holding his food gingerly with thoroughly ring-encrusted hands. His face stitched with a faint sweat which could have been from stress, the heat of the food, or even from the start of enebriation. 'Choly observed in distant and fascinated contemplation, unsure whether his friend derived his mannerisms from humanity or the vestiges of having so recently once been a hybrid. Augen shot him a vague glance, and he cringed from getting caught watching. ‘Choly pushed the sauce-drenched larva-hash back up on the one round bready thing he’d been cutting bites from, sheepish.
“If you don’t wanna talk about it, there’s gotta be something you can do to take your mind off it instead? Have you tried... writing, since...?”
Augen finished off the first drink right when Bert swung by two replacements and more rinds and salsa. ‘Choly hadn’t even drunk half of his first pinzón yet, and he nudged his new one his friend’s way, knowing the rate this meal was going. “Most of the time,” the goth mumbled, welcoming the offer, “my writing takes a particular head space. And I sure as fuck haven’t been in it.”
“I mean, like. Not in a carnal sense. Sort of in a carnal sense. An emotional sense? A purgative sense?”
Augen kept his eyes on his food, but his ears patently on his friend. ‘Choly’s hallmark withdrawn posture and tone signaled vague, incumbent rambling. With welcome resignation the goth listened, as he’d aspired from the start. After all, ‘Choly always had been the long-winded one of them.
“You... You remember how I was writing stories about me gettin’ with the Geek, but then I stopped abruptly? The last wip I posted before I stopped was right after I found out that the Geek and the Larva were the same person. Early on, the reasons I couldn’t reconcile with finishing the piece were ‘cause of how badly my first encounter with him went, but then fantasy turned into reality and he... caught me stalkin’ him and. You remember that right?” ‘Choly fished his reader from his bag, and tried to locate a picture in his camera roll. “I know I sent you a selfie of the black eye he gave me...”
“...You couldn’t shut up about it for a month. Heh.”
‘Choly looked up from his reader with a dull gloss to his features, and sniffed. “He even tracked me down, what, five weeks later? An’ things got super weird--" He chewed at his labret. "...I’m still trying to process everything that happened two years ago.”
“This is about the walls, isn’t it.”
“Not quite. And yet. Exactly. I just. I owe it to him to get the details right, don’t I? It feels real lousy to even consider writing a nonfictional account of him, and yet.” He popped an orange gummy in his mouth, and licked the thick, tangy sauce off his swan-splinted fingertip. “I feel like I need to get the very concept of him in print, to get it out from inside of me. I know it’s already been two years since the walls went up, but I don’t think it’s possible for me to forget all that... death, even for a day.” A grapefruit one, this time. “How do you stay motivated to write something that hurts and arouses you, both in ways nothing else has ever really managed to?”
Augen dipped a spring roll in his salsa, and started working on the third drink. Not glancing up from his food, his brows piqued with heavy lids.
“A difficult question. Perhaps a better reply would be another question: Who’re you writing this for?”
‘Choly set down his utensils and stared down his food.
“I’d say it was for me, but I feel like I need to put his ghost to rest. I’d say it was for him, but it’s also in hopes of jamming my brain because something more accurate could exist of him than anything I’ve written of him prior. And I’d... say it was for you, or any of my followers, but I... don’t even know if I can bring myself to post the results.” The dreg sneaked the Confec from his bag and set it beside his plate. “I... I gotta have another slice.”
That got Augen’s attention.
“Mmh. Mind sharing?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
‘Choly sliced through the partial ball a few times with his thumbs against the spine of the knife, and Augen reached over to help himself to one. Wincing at the bitterness, he chewed it up and washed it down with more liquor. 'Choly simply slouched back and let the stringent melt go for a few minutes, thinking it nearly paired with the citrus cubes.
“Cecil knows about us,” Augen began, eyes stitched shut, “but you never did tell Cecil about the Geek, did you? Have you ever wanted to?”
“I told him about Chalcedony. And he may not have said anything, but I know he knows about me an’ the Geek. Can’t not. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how open he is to it all. It’s like he believes leaving me untethered keeps me more faithful. He’s... not wrong, I guess.” ‘Choly looked up when he heard Augen stifle a choke, and suddenly he regretted sharing. His friend’s face was glistening, grey eyes wide. “Are you-- all right?”
“How’s everything tasting so far?” Bert interjected in passing, trying to hide concern when he he paused noticing Augen’s demeanor.
“Don't mind him." 'Choly quickly stashed the Confec back in his bag, unsure whether having it would cause them trouble. "I think something just went down the wrong way.”
The boy frowned at the Augen, who blanched and rubbed at his Adam’s apple a bit. On cue, Augen forced a cough.
“I... It's nothing."
Augen tapped a finger on his glass, not looking to Bert, and the waiter plucked up their empty glasses with a nod and excused himself, shaking his head in delirious incredulity at what had become of their once most troublesome patron.
“Seriously... Are you okay? You know you’re supposed to let that stuff melt slow.”
Rather than reply, the goth took one of ‘Choly’s wristbraced hands in both of his own, and guided it to hold his strained throat. He sustained breathless, tormented eye contact.
“It's wearing off faster than I was planning. Thought for sure I'd at least get to slagging finish eating. I'll... I'll take it.”
On to part 2 »»»
#biopunk#cyberpunk#dystopian#drugs tw#alcohol tw#dysphoria mention#body horror#the uptake#with symbiotic self indulgence#wssi#only the vital ones#melanochro kara#august ritter#hopefully starting to understand what's got choly so bugged out that he needs... medicating
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Reading Wednesday
The Pride of Chanur by C.J. Cherryh. A space opera more concerned with ethics and friendships than battles and politics. The Pride of Chanur is a merchant ship crewed by the Hani, a lion-like species in which the females are in charge of trade and diplomacy while the males stay back home and fight one another for control of powerful households. Captain Pyanfar is on a typical trip, docked at a trading station, when a strange, naked alien that looks like nothing she's ever seen (though readers will quickly recognize it as a human) runs onto her ship. Another species, the Kif, soon demand its return, but Pyanfar refuses, as much because she dislikes the Kif and is happy to annoy them than for any deep reason. That choice lands her and her crew in escalating danger, as the Kif are determined to get the alien back and will declare war to do it and other species are drawn into the conflict. A great deal of the book is about the difficulty of translation; even with long-contacted species like the Kif, the Hani are forced to communicate in short, broken sentences and deal with deep cultural differences. With the humans, they're starting from the ground up, and matters like gestures, clothing, and food are as prone to misunderstandings as language itself. How do you even tell the difference between an sentient alien and an animal, if you have nothing in common? I loved this sociological part of the book. Unfortunately, I didn't like much of the rest of The Pride of Chanur. I didn't connect emotionally with any of the characters, I found the descriptions of space travel deeply confusing, and I have no idea at all how Hani society is supposed to function. For example, it seems like the male fights over households are supposed to be one-on-one, but then we're given a description of a whole crew invading and pillaging an enemy house. Is that illegal? Are there laws regulating these fights? What does a new male leader mean to the daughters and sisters of the former ruler – are they cast out too, or do they just have to obey a new boss? All of this is pretty important to the climax, but I just couldn't figure it out. The Pride of Chanur has its positives, but I don't think I'll be reading the sequels unless someone talks me into it. Cibola Burn by James S.A. Corey. The fourth book in The Expanse series, and so inevitably this review will contain spoilers for previous books. After the events of Abaddon's Gate , humanity suddenly has access to thousands of solar systems, most with inhabitable, Earth-like planets. And yet in a very believable, petty example of human nature, we're fighting a war over just one. The Cibola in the title is metaphorical; it's one of the mythical 'cities of gold' the Spanish conquistadors searched and killed for in their early days in the New World. The idea of being beyond the law, of pillaging fortunes from a new land, is a major theme in this book, and Cortez and his methods get name-dropped at least twice. A group of refugees, homeless after Ganymede was torn apart by war, riots, and alien monsters, settle on a planet they name Ilus. At the same time, the UN grants the Royal Charter Energy corporation the exploration and exploitation rights to the same planet, which they've named New Terra. This immediately sets up several consequential questions that no one has the answer to: since the refugees beat RCE to Ilus/New Terra by a year, do they have rights of priority? Does the UN even have the authority to give out contracts over these new planets? Where do Mars and the Outer Planet Alliance stand? Who owns the lithium ore the refugees have already mined and transported into space? And since the rest of humanity is months or even years away from Ilus/New Terra, can anyone stop RCE and the refugees from killing each other before politicians settle the matter? James Holden and the crew of the Rocinante are sent in to act as mediators, since a) Holden is, by this point, a popular celebrity, and b) as an Earth native and former OPA operative, he can be seen as neutral. Unfortunately matters quickly grow beyond his ability to control them, particularly when the defense system set up by long-dead aliens wakes up and adds a third front to the killing-everyone campaign. As always in The Expanse series, we have a set of new POVs. Unfortunately this time I didn't like any of them as much as usual. Holden repeats again, and our others are Basia Merton, Elvi Okoye, and Dimitri Havelock. Basia was formerly a minor character in Caliban's War, the father of one of the other kidnapped children. His son died, and in reaction to that Basia has become fiercely, perhaps stupidly, protective of his surviving family. They are some of the refugees, and Basia's grief leads him to make several dangerous choices when confronted by the RCE. He's a sympathetic character, but I just didn't find him as captivating as Avasarala, Bobbie, or Pastor Anna. Havelock was also a minor character before; he was Detective Miller's partner in Leviathan Wakes. Now he's second-in-command of security for the RCE. It's just too bad that his boss is Murtry, a straight-up sociopath who doesn't care how many people he has to kill to give RCE an advantage. Havelock explicitly says that he's overly influenced by the people around him, and so goes along with Murtry's plan for far too long. As a character arc, this did not work for me at all. There is some suspense in waiting to see if Havelock will grow a spine and do the right thing, but it's not nearly as intriguing than if he was genuinely convinced of Murtry's ideas and had to change his mind, or was in some sort of physical danger that prevented him from helping the heroes. Finally, we have Elvi, an exo-zoologist working as part of RCE's science exploration team. More than anyone else, she understands Ilus/New Terra and how very different it is from Earth, despite superficial similarities. She makes several important discoveries that save lives, but she's dangerously naive regarding politics and human relationships. She also falls desperately in love with Holden and begins to act like a besotted teenager; this is believable as a reaction to the stress and life-threatening circumstances she finds herself in – and the narration does make it clear that's what's happening – but it was still somewhat annoying to read. It was hard to take her seriously as a respected professor when she was blushing and stammering over her crush. Overall, I didn't like this book as much as the previous ones in the series. It just wasn't as exciting and the characters weren't as likeable. On the other hand, I did really enjoy the found-family vibes between Holden and his crew: Naomi, Amos, and Alex. (Which reminds me: I forgot to mention the AMAZING scene in Caliban's War where Holden literally proposes marriage to the whole crew. He's half-joking, suggesting it more as a way for them to easily become co-owners of their spaceship than to actually enter into a poly romance, but I still loved it.) We have Amos nearly murdering people when Naomi is taken hostage, Naomi issuing vicious threats when Alex's safety is endangered, and Holden going to new extremes to protect Amos. It's just a whole circle of love and family-of-choice and it is my very favorite trope. I'm totally giving this book an extra star just for that. In general, Cibola Burn is a step down in quality from previous books, but I'll still be reading the sequel. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant: Survival Tips for the Horticulturally Challenged by Veronica Peerless. A really excellent how-to guide for houseplants, possibly the best book on the topic I've ever seen. It's split into two halves, with "The Basics" offering general tips and "The Houseplants" giving specific guidance on 119 common species. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant is aimed towards newbies, but it also included tricks that were new to me, such as how to save an overwatered plant by wrapping its soil in newspaper. I particularly liked the troubleshooting offered in "The Houseplants"; it explains, for instance, that yellow leaves on one plant might mean it needs more water, while yellow leaves on another species might indicate that it's getting too much sunlight. It's easy to look up your specific plants and get tips on how to best care for them. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant is available as both an ebook and a physical book, but I'd highly recommend the physical book. It's beautifully laid out, with a collage-like style that mixes photographs and abstract cutouts. A great book for anyone who raises houseplants, 'horticulturally challenged' or not! I read this as an ARC via NetGalley. One Way by S.J. Morden. A sci-fi thriller set in the near future: 2048, to be exact. Mars has been visited, and it's time for humanity to build a permanent base there for the ease of future astronauts. But how to do it? Robots are expensive and prone to breaking down, whereas human labor is even more expensive and when they break down there's likely to be lawsuits from family members. Xenosystems Operations, the company who has contracted with NASA to build the base, hits on the perfect solution: convict labor. After all, it's not like they can escape; they'll be on fucking Mars, and there's not a lot of spare oxygen or rocket ships for them to steal. XO runs a private prison in California (named Panopticon; subtle, Morden), so all they have to do is select a team of seven people with life-sentences who are willing to serve the rest of their time on Mars, give them a few months of training, and send them on a one-way journey – even once the base is built, they'll be a need for maintenance and janitorial services, since astronauts have more important things to do than unclog drains or charge batteries. In exchange, the prisoners get work they can be proud of and a bit more freedom in their daily lives. Frank is our narrator and main character. Sentenced to life for murdering his son's drug dealer, Frank is a former construction worker, an obviously useful background. He and his team of six other prisoners, each with their own specialities (transportation, plumbing, electricity, computers, hydroponics, and a doctor), plus an XO employee to be their guard/boss, quickly find out that XO has cut every possible corner to save money. They have no redundant supplies in case of wear or mishap; broken or missing necessary parts; barely enough food to get them through; problems with producing their own oxygen, water, and power; and not enough training for emergencies. Unsurprisingly, this quickly starts to take its toll, and people die in easily preventable accidents. Except by the third death, Frank suspects that they're not just accidents – someone on the team is deliberately murdering the others. He has no one he trusts, help from Earth is months away, and in the harsh environment of Mars the smallest mistake can kill, so Frank is left to figure out the murderer by himself before he's the next victim. Morden is an excellent writer of tension; there's several wonderfully dramatic scenes involving characters in spacesuits running out of time on their oxygen supplies that were heart-pounding and thrilling. Unfortunately he's not a great author of mysteries. The murderer is SUPER obvious, so much so that it makes Frank look dumb for taking so long to figure it out. At the point where Frank discovers a bunch of empty oxycontin packets around the murderer's bed and still doesn't think it might be him, I had to groan out loud. (Of course, being a drug addict doesn't make one a murderer, except that this is totally the kind of book where it does.) I also had problems with Morden's science writing; I think he expects his average reader to know more about space than I, at least, do. There was a lot of techno-jargon I didn't know, and I never could manage to picture what the base Frank and the others built was supposed to look like. On the other hand, I am highly predisposed to like a book that's this critical of the use of convict labor for corporate profit, and the excerpts scattered throughout of XO's private communications really make it clear how far down the path of evil a bit of greed and pure capitalism can get you. Hooray for a nice dose of contemporary politics in my escapist reading! I do want to note – because I didn't know before reading it – One Way is not a stand-alone. A sequel is due out soon. Nonetheless, One Way ends at a good point, with almost all of the plot threads wrapped up. You won't feel like you've gotten only half of the story if you read this book alone. I read this as an ARC via NetGalley.
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My first theme was space and my idea was to put images of different contexts together. So for the image of the left I put a vintage looking gas station in space. I looked at different images of gas stations and combined the road with the building. Then I edited the hue of the road to look more like the surface of mars. I really like how this ended up looking because the pictures ended up blending really well together. I cut out an astronaut from another photo and I feel like adding that brought the whole collage together. The size of the astronaut emphasises that the gas station is in the middle of nowhere. As a whole, I like the absurdity of this collage.
My second idea was to cut out a camping photo and make it look like a camping trip to Mars. I liked how these images ended up looking together. Originally, the photo had brighter reds and greens so I edited the colours to a more earthy hue so that it would match with the rest of the collage.
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I’m Curious: Chapter’s 20-24
New Wave Typography and Richard Hamilton
Dan Friedman
Dan Friedman, born 1945-1995, was an American graphic designer who guided New Wave Typography through proportion and sequence. His approach to modernist design was modeled after the Swiss typographic design and communicated a new path under visual communication. Friedman taught at Yale University from 1972-1975 and would design posters, logos and more. Many of his early work shows a mathematical and grid-like design, then later experimenting with Dadaist expressionism within his design space. His style is predominantly heavy use of black and white with some additional primary coloring. Almost all of his posters included some type of lettering accompanied by images and collage. His modernistic style design is an example of the rawness of the human form and expression. After teaching at Yale he transitioned into working for Pentagram, then went on to designing logos and posters for corporations like CitiBank, or CitiCorp.
Dan Friedman, Typographic Permutations, 1970, class assignment
Posters by Friedman for the Yale Symphony Orchestra and the New Haven Dance Ensemble
Richard Hamilton
Richard Hamilton, a pop artist from England designed the cover of The Beatles White Album in 1968. Hamilton made their album a Pop Art Icon. The album cover was considered “a cleanser for the pallet”, and influenced many art movements like new typography. Dan Friedman’s early design work has a direct connection to the album cover. Both artists included black and white, negative space, and text. Although Hamilton’s background was in Pop Art, the message behind the album cover was to contrast to the multicolored LSD trip that was Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club. Hamilton was comfortable in the expressionist or abstract style of art and design, so the album cover was shocking within the pop culture movement. It is hard to say whether Dan Friedman used this pop culture icon as an inspiration for his work, although from first glance we cannot deny the relation to Hamiltons album cover.
The Beatles, White Album, 1968
Artifact:
Image of Typographic Style Design From Glenn Dallas Gallery, 2019.
Bigman, Alex. “Looking Back at Dan Friedman's Radical Modernism.” 99designs, 99designs, 15 Mar. 2018, 99designs.com/blog/famous-design/looking-back-dan-friedmans-radical-modernism/.
Biography by Christopher Pullman September 1. “2015 Medalist: Dan Friedman.” AIGA, www.aiga.org/medalist-dan-friedman-2015.
Luke, Ben. “The White Album: How Richard Hamilton Brought Conceptual Art to the Beatles.” Sothebys.com, Sotheby's, 16 Nov. 2018, www.sothebys.com/en/articles/the-white-album-how-richard-hamilton-brought-conceptual-art-to-the-beatles.
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Only the Vital Ones, 1
The Uptake, With Symbiotic Self-Indulgence. Book III, Chapter 3, Part 1. (Go to Pt.2) Go to next chapter.
TW: Drug use?
“In those days, desires weren’t allowed to become reality. So, fantasy was substituted for them–films, books, pictures. They called it ‘art.’ But, when your desires become reality, you don’t need fantasy any longer, or art.”–Amyl Nitrate, “Jubilee”
The small brushed steel kitchen table of Cecil and ‘Choly’s studio apartment abutted a full-height open-frame modular shelving unit, which doubled as a space divider between the kitchen and the daybed in the back corner that ‘Choly frequented whenever scaling the loft bed proved too taxing. Slumped at it in a dark tank top and his orange leggings, before the ex-stalker lay a quaint butcher-paper and twine parcel, a paring knife, and his reader on a kickstand. With the apartment to himself, ‘Choly surveyed some of the pieces in his drafts and rubbed at his marred face in a dull restlessness. Grazing his recent cheek suture, he flinched and stood, and he paced in the narrow track the length of the apartment which functioned not unlike a hallway.
Two years ago, such incisions would have been made in the spirit of verbot chasing. He sniveled in anger at the impotence of having had to make such a superficial adjustment for sake of his own clumsiness, rather than in the aftermath of risky enterprises. He'd tried several times to contact the Tellurides after the riots and subsequent quarantine, and he knew in his gut that all three of them had gotten walled up with the rest of the Quarter. And the Geek, and Chalcedony, too, for all he knew. His only solace came in knowing that at least his parents had moved back in together downstate before things had gotten especially hairy.
He returned to the kitchen and rinsed out a mug to pour himself a fresh cup of black coffee from the carafe Cecil had brewed for breakfast, and he sat again. Then, he snipped the string on the box and unfurled its wrappings. His horn-rimmed glasses came off and lay across the table from him as he continued massaging at his cheeks and chin and neck marbled with errant scars. He flicked up the messaging app frame and clicked on Augen’s active username, and sighed. Rather than initiate conversation, he produced from the small wax-coated cardstock box a decently-sized chalky pastel ball. He smoothed out the parchment with a detached free hand, and set down the ball of Confec atop it with the other.
The ball bore a mealy consistency somewhere between soap and fudge. A quarter-inch butt fell to the paper, and he stuck it in his mouth to let the hyssop-like bouquet melt on his tongue as he sank into his chair and hesitated on the chat he’d opened.
ketherphorbia: you’re up early 9augen: funny, i was just about to message you. not at the library today? ketherphorbia: no, and i’m not getting anywhere with what i was trying to do so you have my full attention 9augen: how does meeting up for lunch sound? ketherphorbia: i ketherphorbia: i just started in on a fresh confec bonbon, but yeah 9augen: the finnegans across the street from your old place? its on me ketherphorbia: something tells me you’re just looking for an excuse to milk their one-cred goldfinch lunch special 9augen: if you want a few, just say so. can you be there in... say, an hour? ketherphorbia: it honestly sounds fantastic. we can both talk. if you want
Still rattled from the abrupt invitation, ‘Choly put the knife in the sink and rounded the modular divider to rummage in the side-table drawers for something to throw on. First came his back brace, splints, and wrist braces, and he yanked together his salmon button-up, black sweater with the elbows cut out, and slashed jeans over the orange leggings. Taking his jewelry box into the bathroom, he then brushed his bangtails and tucked the right side back with his ABC-gum barrette. He hooked his new black acrylic skull-cutout gauge hangers into his ears, and plucked his balloon animal and saturn-symbol pendants to string around his neck. The spoon pin went in his left collar-point, and he sat on the daybed for his socks. On the way out the door, he tucked the wax paper wrapped Confec into his diamond-shaped cross-body bag and nabbed his cane, retrieved his glasses, and slipped into his mint creepers.
Along the short trip down to Level 5, he shot Cecil a short message:
|| Might not be home when you get off work. Augen invited me to lunch. He hasn’t said hardly a word since it happened, and I get the feeling he needs a friend right now. ||
Cecil replied to him as ‘Choly waved his pass and boarded the toll lift:
|| I can only imagine how hard it’s been for him. Hope he’s doing ok. You two have a good time. Love you. Give him a kiss for me ||
With a chuckle and a fish emoticon, ‘Choly exited the lift and hobbled down the street. He texted Augen that he'd arrived, asking where to meet him, because at first he didn't see him outside. Leaning on the front facade of the Finnegan’s, a tall gothic figure smoked religiously. The young man with dark hair pulled into a low messy bun wore a black button-down and drop-crotch pants, a dark grey knee-length gauzy vest, a large black shawl-scarf wrapped around his shoulders and neck, and mesh boots. Upon closer inspection, the combination of facial body mods--spider bites, gauged one-inch ears and 2ga medusa with glass plugs, symmetrical double brow piercings, and batwing clicker--confirmed for ‘Choly that this was his friend. Somehow, even with his suspicion as to why Augen had initiated the meeting, he’d still expected to find him his old self, and not this anxious chain-smoking human mess. Augen rolled his eyes at him, having just checked his messages.
“Word of warning, I’m a bit thrushed right now,” 'Choly blurted out. Rather than respond, Augen leaned down and steadied ‘Choly’s chin to give him a kiss. ‘Choly smiled strangely and reciprocated with a second peck, then navigated the awkward posture into a hug as he tucked his head against Augen’s chest. It unnerved 'Choly that his friend was no longer cold-blooded, no longer clammy and tepid, but he kept it to himself. “...Hello to you, too.”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Augen rubbed at ‘Choly’s scruff and held the door for him. He eyed ‘Choly’s sweater dully in passing. “Don’t Quit Your Daydream, huh?”
‘Choly looked down at the saying printed on his front once they’d cleared the atrium, and his brows upturned.
“Hah, maladaptive daydreaming. Had it for years. I just kinda threw something on so I wouldn’t run late.”
“Daydream... into a living nightmare...”
With the detached comment, Augen waved down a server to seat them. Marinating in his dissociative veneer, ‘Choly swallowed hard at the prospect of purposefully navigating his mental filter. They settled at a table amid the lunch traffic, and with a series of finger gestures along the tabletop which doubled as a touchscreen menu, both ordered pinzones dorados and got to glancing over their options in silence. The server, a young brunet named Bert, promptly came and left with their drinks, as well as a basket of multicolored meal-rinds and two dishes of salsa. 'Choly sipped at his golden glowing pinzón, a smooth over-ice mix of tonic, hydroponic mezcal, triple sec, and lime liqueur, and mentally praised the facility with which one could get drunk at any hour in this city.
“So... this is a thing now.” ‘Choly got a rind real heavy with salsa and shoved it in his mouth.
Augen knocked back half his liquor in one motion, and slouched over it.
“I’d lived myself so fully, that I’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be human. I’ve missed smoking, if we’re looking for an upside to all this.”
“There’s gotta be a way t’get back what you had. At least some of it?”
“That’s... just about the last thing I want to talk about right now. Past tense doesn’t feel so great.”
They used their mouths to crunch rinds and nothing else. Augen took a hit off the cig around his neck, and with a deep exhale he shut his sunken eyes, the vapors entangling with the odd abstract light fixture over the table. Once they'd placed their orders, 'Choly did his best to people watch behind a zoned out Augen, mostly observing the rotation of three servers popping in and out of the kitchen door with dishes. When a couple that sat on the same side of their far-corner booth thought 'Choly gawked at their unapologetic PDAs and gave him a stink-eye, he coughed, and started trying to read the pattern of scrapbooked web articles which plastered every wall and the ceiling of the restaurant. The theme of all the articles painted up Tri-City's sheer melting pot culture as a fusion city, boasting a collage of articles about people from just about every level in the hyper-metroplex.
Bert interrupted their silence with their meals, and 'Choly squirmed back to give the server the space to lay it out on the table. The teen couldn't hide a sigh of relief as he picked up one plate, and glanced between the both of them.
"Who ordered the wraps?"
Augen gave him a lazy hand gesture, and the plate slid over to him. On Augen’s plate of spring wraps lay six large seared shrimp. Sliced in half both for presentation and facility, the three girthy wraps were stuffed with a combination of mushroom slices, seaweed, and fried mealworms.
"And then, the benedict's yours. Extra sauce?"
"Yes, thank you," 'Choly lauded with a heavily modulated affect, as the other mess of a plate came his way. A viscous pale yellow-green mess blanketed two nondescript mounds of protein and bread, and along its side the cook had scattered soft, colorful citrus gummies. "So glad I can still get breakfast here this late."
"Is there anyth--" Bert broke off, unable not to stare at Augen, as he fished out a pair of napkin-rolled utensils to give them. Augen returned the stare, deadpan.
"...Spring wraps, and a side order of shrimp. It is you."
‘Choly gave the poor boy a glossy smile, about to praise how good it all looked, but he quickly drooped in recognition of the tension.
“So I took a bath today,” Augen dismissed, total fatigue in his voice. “Big deal.”
‘Choly coughed, cataract-bloom eyes wide as he took a stiff sip. Setting the pinzón back down, he tried to smile up at the waiter again, his voice cracking.
"Could we get more rinds?"
The waiter shook his head and shut his eyes, then nodded.
“--Sure thing.”
“And we already need another round of birds.” Augen traced the edge of the faded glass with one black-polished finger and a heavy-lidded, eyelined smirk.
The server flashed him a fake grin, poorly hiding his revelry that the city had defanged the loathsome goth.
“I’ll be right back.”
‘Choly fought with the self-conscious selfishness of directing the conversation to himself, but still he persisted, hoping to distract his friend from getting recognized by his typical order. ‘Choly unrolled his flatware to tuck the napkin beside his plate, and took up the table knife and fork with zeal. He didn’t want to admit it, but as had become typical in the past few weeks, the only thing he’d put in his stomach so far by that time of day was a slice of wax and half a cup of coffee. Augen took precise bites, holding his food gingerly with thoroughly ring-encrusted hands. His face stitched with a faint sweat which could have been from stress, the heat of the food, or even from the start of enebriation. 'Choly observed in distant and fascinated contemplation, unsure whether his friend derived his mannerisms from humanity or the vestiges of having so recently once been a hybrid. Augen shot him a vague glance, and he cringed from getting caught watching. ‘Choly pushed the sauce-drenched larva-hash back up on the one round bready thing he’d been cutting bites from, sheepish.
“If you don’t wanna talk about it, there’s gotta be something you can do to take your mind off it instead? Have you tried... writing, since...?”
Augen finished off the first drink right when Bert swung by two replacements and more rinds and salsa. ‘Choly hadn’t even drunk half of his first pinzón yet, and he nudged his new one his friend’s way, knowing the rate this meal was going. “Most of the time,” the goth mumbled, welcoming the offer, “my writing takes a particular head space. And I sure as fuck haven’t been in it.”
“I mean, like. Not in a carnal sense. Sort of in a carnal sense. An emotional sense? A purgative sense?”
Augen kept his eyes on his food, but his ears patently on his friend. ‘Choly’s hallmark withdrawn posture and tone signaled vague, incumbent rambling. With welcome resignation the goth listened, as he’d aspired from the start. After all, ‘Choly always had been the long-winded one of them.
“You... You remember how I was writing stories about me gettin’ with the Geek, but then I stopped abruptly? The last wip I posted before I stopped was right after I found out that the Geek and the Larva were the same person. Early on, the reasons I couldn’t reconcile with finishing the piece were ‘cause of how badly my first encounter with him went, but then fantasy turned into reality and he... caught me stalkin’ him and. You remember that right?” ‘Choly fished his reader from his bag, and tried to locate a picture in his camera roll. “I know I sent you a selfie of the black eye he gave me...”
“...You couldn’t shut up about it for a month. Heh.”
‘Choly looked up from his reader with a dull gloss to his features, and sniffed. “He even tracked me down, what, five weeks later? An’ things got super weird--" He chewed at his labret. "...I’m still trying to process everything that happened two years ago.”
“This is about the walls, isn’t it.”
“Not quite. And yet. Exactly. I just. I owe it to him to get the details right, don’t I? It feels real lousy to even consider writing a nonfictional account of him, and yet.” He popped an orange gummy in his mouth, and licked the thick, tangy sauce off his swan-splinted fingertip. “I feel like I need to get the very concept of him in print, to get it out from inside of me. I know it’s already been two years since the walls went up, but I don’t think it’s possible for me to forget all that... death, even for a day.” A grapefruit one, this time. “How do you stay motivated to write something that hurts and arouses you, both in ways nothing else has ever really managed to?”
Augen dipped a spring roll in his salsa, and started working on the third drink. Not glancing up from his food, his brows piqued with heavy lids.
“A difficult question. Perhaps a better reply would be another question: Who’re you writing this for?”
‘Choly set down his utensils and stared down his food.
“I’d say it was for me, but I feel like I need to put his ghost to rest. I’d say it was for him, but it’s also in hopes of jamming my brain because something more accurate could exist of him than anything I’ve written of him prior. And I’d... say it was for you, or any of my followers, but I... don’t even know if I can bring myself to post the results.” The dreg sneaked the Confec from his bag and set it beside his plate. “I... I gotta have another slice.”
That got Augen’s attention.
“Mmh. Mind sharing?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
‘Choly sliced through the partial ball a few times with his thumbs against the spine of the knife, and Augen reached over to help himself to one. Wincing at the bitterness, he chewed it up and washed it down with more liquor. 'Choly simply slouched back and let the stringent melt go for a few minutes, thinking it nearly paired with the citrus cubes.
“Cecil knows about us,” Augen began, eyes stitched shut, “but you never did tell Cecil about the Geek, did you? Have you ever wanted to?”
“I told him about Chalcedony. And he may not have said anything, but I know he knows about me an’ the Geek. Can’t not. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how open he is to it all. It’s like he believes leaving me untethered keeps me more faithful. He’s... not wrong, I guess.” ‘Choly looked up when he heard Augen stifle a choke, and suddenly he regretted sharing. His friend’s face was glistening, grey eyes wide. “Are you-- all right?”
“How’s everything tasting so far?” Bert interjected in passing, trying to hide concern when he he paused noticing Augen’s demeanor.
“Don't mind him." 'Choly quickly stashed the Confec back in his bag, unsure whether having it would cause them trouble. "I think something just went down the wrong way.”
The boy frowned at the Augen, who blanched and rubbed at his Adam’s apple a bit. On cue, Augen forced a cough.
“I... It's nothing."
Augen tapped a finger on his glass, not looking to Bert, and the waiter plucked up their empty glasses with a nod and excused himself, shaking his head in delirious incredulity at what had become of their once most troublesome patron.
“Seriously... Are you okay? You know you’re supposed to let that stuff melt slow.”
Rather than reply, the goth took one of ‘Choly’s wristbraced hands in both of his own, and guided it to hold his strained throat. He sustained breathless, tormented eye contact.
“It's wearing off faster than I was planning. Thought for sure I'd at least get to slagging finish eating. I'll... I'll take it.”
On to Part 2 »»»
#biopunk#cyberpunk#dystopian#entomophagy#the uptake#with symbiotic self indulgence#wssi#only the vital ones#melanochro kara#august ritter
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#RadThursdays Roundup 09/28/2017
During the Great Ohio River Flood of 1937, men and women in Louisville, Kentucky, line up seeking food and clothing form a relief station. Behind them is a billboard proclaiming, “World’s Highest Standard of living - There’s no way like the American Way.” The billboard depicts a smiling white family driving a shiny car in the countryside. The people waiting in line are nearly all Black. Source.
Issues
Puerto Ricans Plead for Aid Amid Catastrophe: "I think everyone has really lost their patience with the US government, because, after Irma, Trump had said that he would visit Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands, because it's important to remember that it's not just one hurricane that has hit Puerto Rico. It's two hurricanes, back to back. And already Irma caused significant devastation. And so, now, the second hurricane was a second blow that completely knocked out the island. And so, the last I saw from the government, they've had some FEMA personnel already arrive, but the long-term assistance, they say, won't come until October, mid-October perhaps. And they've also not lifted restrictions for non-US vessels to be able to take aid. So not only is the US government not helping Puerto Rico, it's also not allowing its neighbors to help Puerto Rico."
The Problems of Liberal Anti-Fascism: "To begin, let’s set out another simple premise. Fascism is not an incomprehensible evil. To cast fascism in such a way—as an evil outside of human understanding—separates the capacity of humankind to carry out fascistic acts and how those acts build from more deeply ingrained structures of racism, sexism, ableism, homophobia, transphobia, et al. In fact, even our own movements have dabbled in such structures historically through scientism and eugenics. Fascists inject themselves into every subculture they can manage and recruit broadly across class lines—they form real movements and have held real power, bringing about real consequences."
Ask a Feelings-Witch: Abundance/Scarcity: "There’s a disconnect in my head/heart between 'abundance' (being resource-rich in friends, food, garden space, raw materials & skills with which to make things that I can share, but also that I can keep and use) and 'wealth' (being cash-rich to the point that I can afford/”afford” to lose those skills and those connections because I can just buy everything from strangers, and still have a hoard of money in a bank somewhere). […] What do your cards have to say about how I can heal that disconnect, how to stop hating/fearing/distrusting money & wealth and, instead, integrate it into the web of connections, skills, energy and attention that are part of my understanding of abundance?"
A psychedelic collage of Trump, Alligators, and Trump-Alligators, one spewing money out of its mouth, one biting the legs off of a crawling piece of lasagna, others trampling palm trees. By artist Peter Saul, titled Donald Trump in Florida. Source.
Technology and the Future
Future Fail: "Musk’s vision of making humans a 'multi-planetary species' requires something more than the usual dose of magical thinking. Beyond the problems of getting there and terraforming the planet, the weak gravity on Mars would progressively destroy the health of any humans who survived the trip. But the Mars-as-humanity’s-future fiction is a lot more comforting if a person sees the present planet as disposable, a world-building experiment that will eventually run its course. […] 'Instead of trying to locate our problems in the context of our own irresponsible actions,' Kapoor writes, 'the solutions are externalised in the form of technology. Since the problems are solved with the aid of technology in the future, responsibility for the same problems in the present is evaded.'"
Unions in Space: "This is a game that is fundamentally about capitalism and where its Silicon Valley variant is leading us all. As you enter the station you have to sign a waiver allowing Tacoma’s corporate owner, Venturis Technologies, total rights to record you, your position, your body shape, and every word you utter (in earlier versions of the game, Venturis was called 'Virgin-Tesla,' to give you some idea of who and what it represents). Fullbright’s sci-fi vision portends a world where the 'disruptive' ways of Silicon Valley have come to dominate the global economy, to the point where artists are now casually referred to as 'content creators.' But despite its cyberpunk dystopian setting, Tacoma gives us a very clear point of light in the darkness: unions."
It’s All You: If everything is relatable, nothing is. "The algorithms of other popular social media platforms, including Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram, function similarly. They rely on the likes and shares of relatabilty culture to manufacture social streams, producing the illusion that sociality itself depends on them and their engagement tools, reinforcing the idea that those tools are necessary to the experience of 'relating' to others. It also structures community as a matter of those momentary connections, those ephemeral feelings generated by a metricized content stream."
A Bohn Aluminum and Brass Corporation ad shows a metal hand dropping a metal cup; some red fluid spills out of the fallend cup. The ad reads: “It looked safe but it was deadly poison. A dose of Socialism can be just as deadly. It kills freedom… leads to Communism. Would you risk a little poison?” Source.
Culture
Domains Are Power: Catalonia’s decision to fight for .cat is in keeping with a long history of domain politics on the internet. "If you want a .cat domain, you have to have a legitimate cultural reason for being there. And once you buy a domain, you have to offer up significant amounts of Catalan content on your site — not just English or Spanish. […] .cat has actually succeeded at fulfilling its broader mission of giving Catalan identity a digital home. And that spirit has helped advocates for Catalan culture support broader political goals. There are more than 110,000 sites on the .cat top-level domain, some ranking among the 100,000 most popular sites globally. These sites host range from local news to Catalan sports to video games to teen culture."
Playing Indian: How a fight over Native American symbolism in Oregon brought to light the conflict at America's core. "'I’ve spent my whole life telling people that we’re still around, that we’re more than just a museum exhibit,' said Esther Stutzman, a Kalapuya elder and storyteller living in a small city near the fairground. 'I remember once an Oregonian newspaper published an article about the Kalapuyas being extinct. That certainly came as a surprise to me as a Kalapuya.' Stutzman believes some stories are for public consumption and others are only for Natives. 'We believe that stories belong to families,' she said. 'To take someone else’s story and tell it is theft.'"
Front Groups Kill the Revolution: Activism, Honesty, and Radical Tactics: "Through their fronts, supposedly anti-capitalist organizations enter the fundamentally capitalist NGO world. They compete in a literal marketplace, selling their political work to consumers in exchange for donations and volunteer hours. Why does everyone pay lip service to “left unity,” then split and squabble in practice? Well, how much unity would you expect between Pepsi and Coke? They’re fighting for each other’s customers. Sure, this disrupts the movement the sects all claim to want. But as any socialist should know, material interests have a way of edging out subjective beliefs."
Direct Action Item
A big list of bot-making resources: Tired of technology being used to further disempower the oppressed? Tired of all those far-right troll-bots you see on twitter? Make your own troll bots! Includes this interesting article on ethical bot-making.
If there’s something you’d like to see in next week’s #RT, please send us a message.
In solidarity!
What is direct action? Direct action means doing things yourself instead of petitioning authorities or relying on external institutions. It means taking matters into your own hands and not waiting to be empowered, because you are already powerful. A “direct action item” is a way to put your beliefs into practice every week.
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In 1993 David Bowie compiled a double CD for friends. Titled All Saints it combined instrumentals from Low and "Heroes" with more contemporary tracks and signalled the singer's rediscovery of the electronic sounds that revolutionised his music in 1977. Delving deep into All Saints, Jon Savage examines the impact of Bowie's sonic revolution on post-punk, electronica and, in the end, Bowie himself.
1993 was a fantastic year for electronic music. Six years after Steve 'Silk' Hurley's Jack Your Body - the UK's first house Number 1 - the pure energy of house and techno had diversified into more than just a series of artificially stimulated genres: it had become a whole new sound world that had very little to do with what had gone before, and that meant rock. Despite the best efforts of Suede and Nirvana that year, electronica sounded like the future.
Passing from the irresistible Euro cheese of 2 Unlimited's No Limit - Number 1 in February - to Acen's brutal classic Window In The Sky - collected on the early junglist compilation Hard Leaders III: Enter The Darkside, there were several releases by Richard ]ames/Aphex Twin, including Polygon Window's Surfing On Sine Waves; Richie Hawtin's first album on Warp, Dimension Intrusion as F.U.S.E., Underworld's Rez, Sabres Of Paradise's Smokebelch II and the R&S compilation In Order To Dance 4 - brilliant records all.
1993 was also the year that David Bowie rediscovered his mojo, It had been a decade since Let's Dance - the rock/R&B fusion that launched him into the global mainstream for the first time. The subsequent years saw Bowie blindsided by that somewhat unexpected success: after two poor studio albums (Tonight and Never Let Me Down), an attempt to recapture his rock roots with Tin Machine had been unsuccessful - despite a couple of good songs. So what to do next?"
"A way through the labyrinth was offered by the past: going forward by going back. During 1991, Rykodisc undertook a comprehensive reissue programme of all the albums between 1967's David Bowie and 1980's Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps), trailed in 1989 by the successful 3-CD compilation Sound + Vision. The cumulative effect of these fifteen records - including the electronic highpoints, Low and "Heroes" - reaffirmed Bowie's status as modernist and innovator.
Released in April 1993, Black Tie White Noise was Bowie's first solo album for six years. It contains what would, with variations, become his basic template for the next decade: mature, almost crooning vocals; iconic covers, in this case Cream's I Feel Free and The Walker Brothers' Nite Flights; an interest in black dance rhythms (assisted here by Nile Rodgers); and futuristic ideas integrated within a full, enveloping sound. It went to Number 1.
Bowie has always been a synthesist of contemporary modes: unlike many rock stars, he actually likes music. His commercial renaissance in 1993 coincided with a greater receptivity to the world around him and a corresponding reassessment of his achievements. Pallas Athena is a string-drenched baggy shuffle, while the title track, Black Tie White Noise, matches a lyric about the 1992 Rodney King riots in Los Angeles with a guest vocal from New Jack Swing singer Al B. Sure!
That November, Nirvana plugged Bowie right into the heart of contemporary rock music with their version of The Man Who Sold The World on MTV Unplugged. A month later, Bowie released his second album of 1993, The Buddha Of Suburbia, an album of all new, subtly electronic material - inspired by his soundtrack work on the BBC Film of Hanif Kureishi's novel, set in their shared south London locale of Bromley - a forgotten gem in his catalogue.
Right from the opening track, which collages the riff from Space Oddity and the chorus from All The Madmen, The Buddha Of Suburbia plugs Bowie back into his avant-garde past. This was deliberate: as Bowie wrote in the linernotes, "My personal brief for this collection was to marry my present way of writing and playing with the stockpile of residue from the 1970s." That meant a list of inspirations that included free association lyrics, Brücke-Museum, Kraftwerk, Eno and Neu!
As if to celebrate the continued influence of Eno on his "working forms", Bowie put together his third release of the year: a double CD compilation called All Saints, produced in an edition of a hundred and fifty and handed out to friends. This was an explicit homage to electronica: mixing all the instrumentals from Low and "Heroes" with stray outtakes like Abdulmajid and All Saints, as well as relevant material from Black Tie White Noise and The Buddha Of Suburbia.
The result is surprisingly homogeneous: sixteen years of material collaged into a flowing whole, with the The Buddha Of Suburbia material, The Mysteries and Ian Fish UK Heir, among the strongest. Which prompts a few questions. If Low and "Heroes" represent Bowie's highpoint of formal inspiration, then how did he get there? Why did they sound so good in the context of their time, and what has their influence been - not just on his own music - but electronica in general? Did that future happen?
It all began, appropriately enough, in science fiction. During the mid to late summer of 1975, Bowie was in New Mexico and other southern locations, filming Nicolas Roeg's The Man Who Fell To Earth. His central role required him to play the part of Thomas Jerome Newton, an extraterrestrial visitor on a quest to find water for his dying planet. Newton is charming, cold, and totally emotionless: as Bowie later admitted, he hardly had to act because that's how he felt at the time.
Space travel and aliens have been a constant theme in Bowie's songs, from Space Oddity through Life On Mars?, Ashes To Ashes and Hello Spaceboy. The possibility of other worlds - and the transformation achieved by leaving this one - is a sure-re way of abstracting from any problems that one has on this Earth. Bowie had always felt apart, and much of his work - for instance, his first masterpiece, 1966's The London Boys - centres around the themes of being in or out, between belonging and not belonging.
His first big hit, 1969's Space Oddity, was a trip to nowhere, in the short term. Bowie achieved fusion in his second phase of chart success: he understood and identified with his new audience, a mixture of weirdos, gays, urban stylists and teenyboppers. But superstardom and artistic restlessness drove him into new, uncharted areas: as he continued his sequence of hyper-speed transformations in 1974 and 1975 - from Aladdin Sane to Diamond Dogs and Young Americans - he became more and more remote.
In summer 1975 he was coked-out and fame blitzed. But The Man Who Fell To Earth offered a lifeline. Saturated in science fiction, becoming the alien, Bowie was able to project forward, into his future, into the future - out of a barren, bleak and occasionally terrifying present. (At the time he was living in Los Angeles, beset by demons, imagined or otherwise, and involved in a sequence of paralysing business disputes).
The first sign of this change was all over his next album. Recorded in autumn 1973, Station To Station was a compelling mixture of abstracted disco and contemporary crooning. TVC 15 set to a vicious funk rhythm the famous scene in The Man Who Fell To Earth, where Newton, rendered incapable by alcohol, goggles at a wall of TV sets: "I give my complete attention to a very good friend of mine / He's quadrophonic / He's a / He's got more channels/ So hologramic / Oh my TVC 15."
The title track was a ten-minute tour de force, with as many twists and turns as a 1967 single or a prog epic, that charted a spiritual journey from the darkside ("Here I am / Dredging the ocean / Lost in my circle") to some kind of possibility that life could continue. Whether consciously or not, Bowie was visualising his own escape: "The European canon is here." Here also are the first traces of modern German music: the motorik rhythms, the panoramic sweep of the train sounds.
The idea of a physical journey was stimulated by the most successful German record to date, Kraftwerk's Autobahn - the title track of which aimed to capture the feeling of driving along the German A roads without speed limits. You hear the car starting, a horn toots, and then you're off into a repetitive, hypnotic twenty-two-minute journey that reflects the different, phasing perspectives of travelling fast as well as the boredom of motorway driving.
As important as the idea of simulating shifts through time and space was Kraftwerk's use of synthesizers to express a melodic sensibility that, at various points, suggested distance, loss, cosiness and large horizons. The two wordless versions of Kometenmelodie, on the album's second side, are saturated in deep, warm analogue synth sounds. This was a futuristic, self-generated, distinct European sensibility that had very little American or English influence.
An edited single of Autobahn went to Number 11 in the UK charts in June 1975. The Kosmische Musik was going overground in 1974/5 just as it hit an artistic peak, with records by Kraftwerk, Tangerine Dream (Phaedra and Ricochet), Cluster (Zuckerzeit), Harmonia (Muzik Von Harmonia), Can (Soon Over Babaluma), Neu! (Neu! 75), and Faust, whose Faust IV began with an earth-shaking drone that satirised the flip name given to the genre by British journalists - Krautrock.
This was a music born out of a national rupture: Germany's post-war devastation and reconstruction. As Kraftwerk's Ralf Hütter told this writer in 1991: "When we started it was like, shock, silence. Where do we stand? Nothing. The classical music being nineteenth century, but in the twentieth century: nothing. We had no father figures, no continuous tradition of entertainment. Through the '50s and '60s, everything was Americanised, directed towards consumer behaviour.
"We were part of this '68 movement, where suddenly there were possibilities: we performed at happenings and art situations. Then we founded our Kling Klang studio. German word for sound is 'klang', 'kling' is the verb. Phonetics, establishing the sound, we added more electronics. You had performances from Cologne Radio, Stockhausen, and something new was in the air, with electronic sounds, tape machines. We were a younger generation, we came up with different textures."
With a cover that used a still taken from The Man Who Fell To Earth, Station To Station was released in January 1976, followed a couple of months later by the film: a double whammy that kept Bowie at the forefront of popular culture. In February, Bowie began the sixty-four-date Station To Station tour - for many fans, his peak as a performer - which, after forty or so dates in the US, visited Germany in April. He liked it so much that, in late summer 1976, he moved to Berlin with Iggy Pop in tow.
In the late '70s, Berlin was a schizophrenic city, brutally divided in two by the heavily policed wall that separated the two warring super-power systems of the day - Cold War zoning in excelsis. Totally surrounded by the communist Deutsche Demokratische Republik, the Western side was an oasis of capitalist values, half depressed and half manically liberated. (For two contrasting views, see the contemporary Berlin films Taxi Zum Klo and Christiane F..
Berlin had come back from nothing. It allowed Bowie anonymity, a safe enough haven within which to reconstitute himself and an environment that matched his own psychological state. It also had layers of history that went back beyond the Cold War and World War II: always visually stimulated, Bowie was fascinated by the Brücke-Museum, an institution dedicated to the often stark Work of the first expressionists, the 'Brücke', or Bridge, who celebrated spontaneity and raw emotion.
It also allowed Bowie to immerse himself further in German music: that year he met Edgar Froese, Giorgio Moroder, and Kraftwerk - who would write about it in 1977's Trans-Europe Express: "From station to station / Back to Dusseldorf city / Meet Iggy Pop and David Bowie." This was the melting pot that would go into the four key 1977 albums that Bowie began recording that summer: first Iggy Pop's The Idiot, then his next, begun in France and finished at the Hansa Tonstudio ("By the wall") in Berlin.
Low was a major surprise when it came out in early 1977 but it's a perfect record - conceptually and emotionally. Adorned with a treated cover still from The Man Who Fell To Earth, it's split into two halves: a first side of seven tracks - two instrumentals and ve songs clipped brutally short - and a second of almost wordless, hypnotic instrumentals. The entire album is drenched in electronics, used to evoke a variety of emotions - not the least of which is a strange serenity: the curious comfort in near-total withdrawal.
The record fades in on Speed Of Life, a theme that tied into one of the preoccupations of punk; as Bowie stated in 1977, "People simply can't cope with the rate of change in this world. It's all far too fast." This instrumental matches a ferocious Dennis Davis snare drum sound - achieved by Tony Visconti's Eventide Harmonizer, which fed back a dying echo to the drummer as he played - with synthesizer textures that were at once harsh and melodic, uplifting and decaying.
These were provided by Brian Eno, Bowie's principal collaborator, who was already saturated in German music. During the sessions for Low, he recorded with Harmonia, while his 1975 album, Another Green World, had been partly inspired by Cluster's Zuckerzeit, an album of playful, sugary but relentless synthesizer instrumentals, and the oscillation between recognisable, if slightly swerved pop songs and ambient instrumentals were what Bowie was aiming to achieve.
The five songs on Low's first side are almost randomly edited, formally unconventional - the vocal on the hit, Sound And Vision, doesn't come in for a minute and a half - and almost autistically uncommunicative. Normally profligate with words and storylines, Bowie here offers fragments from unpleasant scenarios that thrust themselves up into the consciousness (Always Crashing In The Same Car, Breaking Glass) or almost desperate attempts at connection (Be My Wife).
The excitement of the record's formal innovations - the successful integration of a new electronic sound with pop/rock music: just listen to the popping synth in What In The World - contrast with a mood that is shut down, cocooned. This feeling of remoteness is deepened by the four instrumentals that begin with Warszawa. Mixing minimalism with random elements, like the discarded Vibraphone found in the studio, they remain shape-shifting pulses of great clarity and beauty.
Low might have alienated the Americans, but it reached Number 2 in the UK: at the same time, Sound And Vision was a UK Top 3 single. While not of punk, it seemed to share a similar mood: the clipped feel, the acceleration, the traumatised emotions - on the surface at least. It was quickly followed by another album, this time totally recorded at the Hansa Tonstudio in Berlin: "Heroes". Although sharing the same split format as Low, this was a very different beast.
The first thing that you notice is that the songs are longer. There are synthesizers and randomness - like the flat interjection on Joe The Lion: "It's Monday" - but the feeling is generally more expansive, as though Bowie has begun to open up to the world again. The sound is fuller, and reaches a peak on the justly celebrated title track, inspired by two lovers meeting under the Berlin Wall, which, with a totally committed, if not desperate vocal, celebrates the uncertain possibility that love can transcend geopolitics.
The second side is like a waking dream. The Kraftwerk homage V-2 Schneider begins with a downward sweep - like a jet, or a rocket terror weapon, levelling out - before hitting a heavy motorik groove as relentless as anything on Neu! 75. Sense Of Doubt leaves a descending, four-note theme hanging in atmospherics and synthesizer washes: you can hear the dripping rain and feel the physical and mental as psychology matches environment.
Moss Garden takes from Edgar Froese's Epsilon In Malaysian Pale in mood - that lush, exotic soundscape - and in its repeating synth whorls. Bowie added a deep, machine-like hum that travels across the channels, and an improvisation played on a koto: the Japanese stringed instrument. The final instrumental, Neuköln, features Bowie's saxophone in a strangulated, highly Expressionist evocation of a drab Berlin district then mainly populated by Turkish immigrants.
These four tracks are the high point of Bowie's career, his point of furthest formal and expressive outreach: sound paintings that have all the complexity and power of a feature film, they take you there, right into their emotional and physical landscape. Just as much as the purely instrumental albums that Brian Eno would release over the next few years, they represent the beginnings of ambient music, certainly in the form that would become popular in the early 1990s.
The impact of Low and "Heroes" was immediate. Both albums were signposts to the young musicians who would come to the fore in 1978 and 1979, after punk's fury had dissipated: among them were Gary Numan, whose super-alienated chart-topper, Are 'Friends' Electric, welded TVC 15 with Speed Of Life, and Joy Division, originally called Warsaw after the opening instrumental on side two of Low, who took that album's distinctive drum sound, mixed with a lot of Can, into their vision of rock and electronics.
The influence went even further. Berlin and bleak Mitteleurope became a pop trope in the late '70s, with the cold wave of The Human League, Ultravox's Vienna and Joy Division's haunted Komakino, written after a visit to the city. The Mobiles went kitsch with the melodramatic Drowning In Berlin, while Spandau Ballet, the breakthrough group of the new romantics (true children of Bowie all), took their name from the district to the west of the city.
Part of this was just pop faddishness, but Low and "Heroes" had, by the end of 1977, offered a way out of punk's stylistic cul-de-sac. Electronics had been a definite no-no for punks - "Moog synthe-si-zer" Joe Strummer had sneered on London Weekend Television in November 1976 - but they returned with a vengeance after Donna Summer's I Feel Love and Space's Magic Fly, with great 1978 singles by The Normal, Throbbing Gristle, Cabaret Voltaire and The Human League, plus key albums by Suicide and Kraftwerk.
Punk had been the future, but that was quickly superseded by real-time, political events. In the polarising atmosphere of late 1977 and early 1978, it was all too easy to feel shot by both sides. As they had to David Bowie, electronics offered a way of side-stepping impossible demands, while their association with various physical and psychological states - movement late in the night through the city, withdrawal and isolation - were attractive to alienated youth.
In many ways, it was the return of psychedelia, only darker in keeping with the mood of the time. The counter-intuitive analogue synth sound was key: it was deep enough to create an environment and bleak enough to evoke estrangement, while at the same time enveloping the listener in a warm bath of ambience, that "sensurround sound" that would be explored further by The Human League (The Dignity Of Labour Parts 1-4), Joy Division (Atmosphere, The Eternal) and PiL (Radio 4).
Like his post-punk acolytes, Bowie too kept coming back to these albums in the later '70s and early '80s. In 1978, he played Warszawa and Sense Of Doubt on the long Isolar II tour, later collected on the Stage live album. Both also cropped up, together with V-2 Schneider and "Heroes"/Helden on the soundtrack of Christiane F., a stark but overlong depiction of teenage heroin addicts at the central Berlin station that became one of the most popular German films ever.
But apart from Crystal Japan, a Japanese B-side, Bowie retreated from pure electronica thereafter. By the time that he returned with Let's Dance in 1983, the spores he had helped to cast to the wind were beginning to bear fruit in the most unexpected way, as the late '70s white synthetic sound was taken up by black Americans, most notably in rap and techno tracks by Cybotron - 1981's Alleys Of Your Mind and 1984's Techno City - and Afrika Bambaataa And Soulsonic Force on 1983's Planet Rock.
While Bowie busied himself in the mainstream, dance culture proliferated into a myriad forms, assisted by the onset of digital and sampling technology. With such an eclectic, voracious and fast-moving culture, it was hardly surprising that it began to loop back to the analogue late '70s. Just as Low and "Heroes" reappeared on CD in 1991, with several extra tracks, the first products of ambient's second wave were being released: Aphex Twin's Didgeridoo and Biosphere's classic Microgravity.
Reconnecting with his electronic past gave Bowie a burst of energy that has taken him through the '90s and, in fact, the rest of his career to date. During 1992, the year that Philip Glass put out the Low Symphony, he reunited with Brian Eno - on "synthesizers, treatments, and strategies" - for the ambitious 1.Outside. Released in 1995, this was a return to the dystopian landscape of Diamond Dogs with added pre-millennial tension and extra technological weirdness.
The fourteen songs on 1.Outside stretch time and form. Random reappears in the cut-up lyrics, while the constant 4/4 of house phases in-and-out of funk and baggy beats, in the segues Bowie's voice is varispeeded through time and space: one minute he's a fourteen-year-old girl, another a forty-six-year-old "Tyrannical Futurist". The album's big hit, Hello Spaceboy, has hints of Rebel Rebel and Space Oddity. By this stage, in his late forties, Bowie could look back at his catalogue and his obsessions, and still move forward.
The motion was even more extreme on 1997's direct, uptempo and intense Earthling, in which Bowie mixed heavily sampled often squeezed into squalling riffs, as on the opener Little Wonder, with self-generated drum'n'bass rhythms that co-existed with rave patterns (Dead Man Walking). With hints of The Prodigy and Underworld, this was Bowie's most dance-friendly album, adding remixes by Moby, Danny Saber, Nine Inch Nails, and Junior Vasquez.
Both 1.Outside and Earthling made the UK Top 10, as did the more eclectic and uptempo Hours..., from 1999. Two years later, Bowie finally released All Saints as a single disc: dropping the Black Tie White Noise tracks and South Horizon from The Buddha Of Suburbia, and adding Crystal Japan and Brilliant Adventure from Hours.... The result is eminently playable, Bowie's purest, most elemental electronic album.
The extraordinary thing about 2001's All Saints is how well it all hangs together, with nine tracks from 1977 flowing easily in and out of the material from the 1990s, the most recent being the brief, but beautiful Brilliant Adventure. The Mysteries could have segued straight into the second side of "Heroes", and Moss Garden into The Buddha Of Suburbia. That continuity is not a result of standing still, but of being able to retain a love of sound, the wish to move forward.
The long loop of All Saints, from 1977 to 1993 and, finally, 2001, takes Bowie near the close of his musical career to date. In 2002 he released Heathen, an excellent record with tinges of sadness and mortality alongside a surprising cover of Neil Young's I've Been Waiting For You. The next year there was Reality and since then there has been nothing. In a strange way All Saints feels like a closing of the circle: a celebration of an extraordinary breakthrough that remained an inspiration and a talisman.
Just as the prophecies of The Man Who Fell To Earth have come to pass - that bank of TV screens, all showing different channels: if only someone could have told us how boring that would become - then the startling futurism of Low and "Heroes" has been borne out by the events of the last thirty-five years. A radical departure then, seemingly out of their time, they continue to exist in their own world, but they also remain signposts to a future that came to pass.
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Colour Correspondences
Written and Compiled by George Knowles
Colour plays a powerful role in ritual Witchcraft and Magick. Colours are carefully considered and assigned to all aspects of Spell making, Ritual magick and Festivals.
Colours have symbolic associations representing occult powers, and have their own energy frequencies that emanate specific influences. Careful consideration needs to be given to colour correspondences when used with Candles, Clothing, Symbols, Deities influences, Planetary influences, Zodiacal influences and Magickal Days. The use of colour is also important to our meditation and visualisation techniques.
Below is a list of colours and their associations. For further associations and correspondences see:
Black - Is used to invoke the power of Saturn. Contrary to popular belief, black does not indicate evil. Far from it, black is the absence of colour. It is protective and symbolises the night, the universe and the lack of falsehood. Black is symbolic of the blackness of outer space and considered the ultimate source of divine energy.
Black is used for dealing with such matters as: Binding, Patience, Stability, Neutralization, Material Gain, Protection, Karma, Death, Manifestation, Structure’s, Reality, Laws of society, Limits, Obstacles, Tests, Handwork, Real Estate, Dentists, Bones, Teeth, Farm Workers, Sacrifice, Separation, Stalkers, Murderers, Criminals, Civil Servants, Justice, Math’s, Plumbing, Wills, Debts, Financing, Discoveries, Transformation and Relations with Older People.
Blue - Is used to induce the power of Jupiter. Blue is a Goddess colour and the colour most associated with the elements of water.
Blue is used for dealing with such matter as: Wealth, Joy, Opportunity, Abundance, Elevation, Tranquillising, Aligning, Business, Logic, Gambling, Social matters, Political power, Material wealth, Publishing, Collage education, Long distance travel, Foreign interests, Religion, Philosophy, Forecasting, Broadcasting, Publicity, Expansion, Luck, Growth, Sport, Horses, Legal matters, Doctors, Guardians, Merchants, Psychologists, Charity, Correspondence courses, Self-improvement, Research, Reading and Studying. Also used to attune to the Goddess in her Oceanic aspect.
Brown - Is the element of Earth and is symbolic of endurance and animal health. Brown it a good colour for Grounding, Solidifying and Strengthening. It is also used for matters dealing with Material Increases, Eliminating Indecisiveness, Improving Concentration, Study, Telepathy, Increasing Financial Success, Locating Lost Property and anything to do with Animal matters.
Green - Induces the power of Venus and is symbolic of the Earth’s elements. It is used to influence such matters as: Herbal Magick, Luck, Fertility, Physical Healing, Balance, Prosperity, Courage, Change, Material Things, Peace, Harmony, Relationships and Success. Also used for Romantic Love, Friendship, Beauty, Soul-mates, Artistic Ability, Affection, Partners, Alliances, Grace, Luxury, Social Activity, Marriage, Decorating, Cosmetics, Gifts, Income, Gardening, Architects, Artists, Beauticians, Chiropractors, Dancers, Designers, Engineers, Entertainers, Fashion, Music, Painting, Poetry, Courtship, Dating, Household Improvements, Planning Parties and Shopping.
Gold - Induces the power of the Sun and is used to attune with the God. It brings Self-realization and Inner-strength. Gold is used for such matters as: Health, Success, Careers, Goals, Ambition, Personnel Finances, Advancement, Drama, Fun, Authority, Figures, Law, Fairs, Crops, Totem Animals, Volunteer and Civic Services, Promotion, Men’s Mysteries, Children, Buying, Selling and Speculation. Also used for Physical Strength, Achievement, Healing Energy and Divination.
Pink - Induces the power of Venus but can be used to influence Mars. Pink represents: Love, Friendship and Harmony. Pink is also used for such matters as: Passion, Partnerships, Swift Movement, Action, Energy, Sex, Physical Energy, Sport, Muscular Activity, Cutting, Surgery, Buying and Selling Animals, Gardening, Woodworking and New Beginnings. Also Honour, Morality and the Emotions.
Purple - Induces the power of Mercury and influences Occult Forces, Hidden Aspects and Secret Dealings. Purple is used by those who work with pure divine power (Magicians, Priests and Priestesses) and those who wish to deepen their spiritual awareness of the God and Goddess. It is also used for such matters as: Wisdom, Healing, Communication, Intelligence, Memory, Education, Correspondences, Phone Calls, Computers, Messages, Students, Merchants, Editing, Writing, Advertising, Signing Contracts, Siblings, Neighbours, Kin, Accounting, Clerks, Critics, Music, Editors, Journalists, Visual Arts, Hiring Employee’s, Learning, Languages, Visiting Friends, Legal Appointments and Astrology. Also used for Spiritual Development, Intuition, Ambition, Progress, Occult Wisdom, Psychic Ability and the Third Eye (Divination).
Red - Induces the power of Mars and can be used to influence Saturn. It is used when attuning with the God in his fiery aspect. Red is the colour of Vitality, Power, Strength and Courage and is Invigorating, Motivating and Passionate. It is used to influence such matters as: Passion, Partnerships, Courage, Action, Physical Energy, Aggression, Sex, Physical Energy, Sport, Guns, Tools, Metals, Police, Soldiers, Combat, Confrontation, Business Deals, Buying and Selling, Mechanical Things, Repairs and Hunting.
Silver - Induces the power of the Moon and can be used with Mercury influences. It is used to attune to the Goddess while bringing the ability to respond to life’s energies. Also used for such matters as: Wisdom, Healing, Communication, Intelligence, Memory, Education, Correspondences, Phone Calls, Computers, Messages, Students, Merchants, Editing, Writing, Advertising, Signing Contracts, Siblings, Neighbours, Kin, Accounting, Clerks, Critics, Music, Editors, Journalists, Visual Arts, Hiring Employee’s, Learning, Languages, Visiting Friends, Legal Appointments and Astrology. Also used for Spiritual Development, Intuition, Ambition, Progress, Occult Wisdom, Psychic Ability and the Third Eye (Divination).
When attuned to the Goddess, silver is used for such matters as: Lunar Magick, Meditation, Psychic Development, Success, Balance, Warding off Negativity, Intuition, Dreams, and Astral Energy.
Yellow - Induces the power of the Sun and can be used to attune with the God. Also used to influence such matters as: Health, Success, Careers, Goals, Ambition, Personnel Finances, Advancement, Drama, Fun, Authority, Figures, Law, Fairs, Crops, Totem Animals, Volunteer and Civic Services, Promotion, Men’s Mysteries, Children, Buying, Selling and Speculation. Also used for Physical Strength, Achievement and Healing Energy.
Yellow is also representative of the Elements of Air, and as such is used for such matters as: Divination, Clairvoyance, Mental Alertness, Intellectual Growth, Prosperity, Harmony, Energizing and Creativity.
White - Induces the power of the Moon and is used to attune with the Goddess. Can also be used with Venus and Saturn. Pure dazzling white light can be called upon to bring about: Realisation, Intention, Insight and power itself. It is also used to influence: Psychic Pursuits, Psychology, Dreams, Astral Travel, Imagination, Women’s Mysteries, Re-incarnation, Short Trip’s, Spirituality, Full moon magic, Purity, Protection, Truth, Meditation, Peace, Sincerity, Justice, Warding off Doubts and Fears.
Orange - Induces the power of Mercury and is sometimes used for solar energy. Representative of the God, it can be used and combined with other candles to simulate their actions. Also used to influence such matters as: Health, Strength, Luck, Vitality, Business Goals, Justice, Success, Ambition, Personal Finances, Buying, Selling, Speculating and Authority Figures.
Violet - Induces the power of Jupiter. Can be use to influence such matters as: Intuition, Self-improvement, Wealth, Joy, Opportunity, Abundance, Elevation, Business, Logic, Gambling, Social matters, Political power, Material wealth, Publishing, Collage education, Foreign interests, Religion, Philosophy, Forecasting, Broadcasting, Publicity, Expansion, Luck, Growth, Sport, Horses, Legal matters, Doctors, Guardians, Merchants, Psychologists, Charity, Correspondence courses, Research, Reading and Studying.
Indigo - Induces the power of Saturn. Indigo is the colour of inertia and is used to stop situations or people. Use in rituals that require a deep meditational state. It can also be used to influence such matters as: Binding, Patience, Stability, Neutralization, Material Gain, Protection, Karma, Death, Manifestation, Structure’s, Reality, Laws of society, Limits, Obstacles, Tests, Handwork, Real Estate, Sacrifice, Separation, Stalkers, Murderers, Criminals, Civil Servants, Justice, Math’s, Wills, Debts, Financing, Discoveries, Transformation, Relations with Older People and for Warding off slander.
Lavender - Induces the power of Mercury to influence Occult Forces, Spiritual Development, Psychic Growth and Divination. Also used for such matters as: Wisdom, Healing, Communication, Intelligence, Memory, Education, Correspondences, Phone Calls, Computers, Messages, Students, Merchants, Editing, Writing, Advertising, Signing Contracts, Intuition, Ambition, Progress and Occult Wisdom.
Sources:
Candle Magic - By Phillip Cooper
Wicca, A guide for the Solitary Practitioner - By Scott Cunningham
Encyclopedia of Wicca & Witchcraft - By Raven Grimassi
To Stir a Magick Cauldron - By Silver Ravenwolf
https://www.controverscial.com/Colour%20Correspondences.htm
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