#universally panned by british people interviewed

[3liza]

2001

The associated music vox pop video is composed entirely of people listening to the song on headphones and their reactions. Responses include enthusiasm, critique, and apathy; some dance, while one Ralph Walbridge, poet, gives the headphones back partway through, stating "uh... I've heard it all a million times, all the way back to all of the old records - which were much better - when they first came out, back in the 1940s." Other comments include Dr. Bruce L. Thiessen's (aka Dr. B.L.T.) "as a psychologist, I'd have to say it has therapeutic value because it releases something deep inside". The video was nominated for Breakthrough Video at the 2002 MTV Video Music Awards, but the White Stripes ultimately secured the award. MuchMusic released an official "Canadian" version of the video that uses footage of people in Toronto, Vancouver, and Montreal. The video humorously censors some foreign words spoken by non-English speakers due to the words' strange pronunciations. The video also featured an appearance from Ed the Sock. There were various versions of this music video. Additional versions were filmed after the record company suggested the first video would not hold up well to repeated viewing. The videos filmed for an estimated cost of less than $20,000.[5] The Mexican version was directed by Alejandro "Chicle" and edited by Alejandro Davalos Cantu.

"SOUNDS LIKE SOME KINDA SUPERGIRL SOME FEMINIST WOULD APPROVE OF"

[wanjikusblog]

A different construction of history.

Leila Aboulela, Sudanese-Egyptian economist and statistician turned fiction writer.

Last year, the Macondo Literary Festival embarked on a mission to curate and represent various aspects of the African journey through literature by featuring such writers as Abdulai Silá of Guinea Bissau, Patrice Nganang of Cameroon who doubles as a human rights activist, British writer Hafsa Zayyan, not to mention 2021 Nobel Laureate Abdulrazak Gurnah.

This year, the Macondo Festival is whetting literary appetites with the promise of hosting none other than acclaimed Sudanese-Egyptian writer Leila Aboulela. What's more, Aboulela will be discussing her latest book "River Spirit." Published in March this year, "River Spirit" has been described as a coming of age novel. And in it, Aboulela parallels the life and vicissitudes of the novel's main protagonist with Sudan's 19th century struggle for self determination.

The physical and emotional displacements of Akuany, a Southern Sudanese girl who's been uprooted from her village in Malakal are used as the backdrop against which Aboulela trots out at least four main characters across the turbulent but rich tapestry of Sudanese history.

And make no mistake, modern Sudanese history has seen it all— from Turco-Egyptian occupation, to the Madhists uprising, to French incursion, to British occupation, to independence from the British, and most recently the partitioning of Sudan into Arab North and Christian or Animist South.

Suffice it to say that Aboulela has always had a penchant for delving into the depths of African history. She has previously teased out the theme of displacement as a result of colonialism, an effort that won her the 2000 Caine Prize for African writing.

Indeed, Aboulela’s Caine Prize winning short story "The Museum" uses the displacement of inanimate artifacts from their original cultural environment, and juxtaposes that displacement with the displacement of peoples from their physical environment or their cultural milieu. Seen behind a museum case, artifacts are labelled in the dominant voice of the colonizer, similar to an African history that's largely been chronicled in the colonizer's voice.

For those who'll be lucky enough to meet her at the Macondo lit fest, here's a snippet of what to expect. Aboulela recently sat down for an interview with Pan-African magazine 'African Arguments,' and shed more light on her quest to recast African history through her novel that's set against the 1884 siege of Khartoum.

________________

AFRICAN ARGUMENTS: First, warm congratulations on yet another literary milestone. We would love to know how you came to write this book. Could you tell us about its genesis?

LEILA ABOULELA: I grew up in Khartoum. Our house was about 4km away from the palace on the Blue Nile where, in 1884, an embattled General Charles Gordon used to stand on the roof, looking out with his telescope, desperate for the arrival of the British relief expedition. Khartoum was under siege by the armies of the Mahdi and that thrilling story with its tragic ending is something that has always enthralled me. Knowing the location well and studying the history in school and university, made it a familiar backdrop against which I could set my novel. The very initial idea for River Spirit was of a young man from Edinburgh who becomes fascinated by the vernacular architecture of colonial Sudan. He paints the Nile and starts to dress like a native. When he sketches the wife of a tribal chief and the drawing is discovered, his career and safety are in jeopardy. I ended up deviating quite far from this original idea. As I was writing, the woman in the drawing/ painting took centre stage, and the artist no longer became the main character.

AFRICAN ARGUMENTS: The book centres on Akuany, an orphaned girl who is sold into slavery. Where did your inspiration for her character come from?

ABOULELA: In the Sudan Archives at Durham university, I found a bill of sale for a woman called Zamzam. I was shocked by this discovery. I knew that slavery existed in nineteenth century Sudan, but to hold in my hand a bill of sale, with an actual monetary figure and the names of the people involved, was quite startling. I also found a petition detailing the case of an enslaved woman who had escaped with a stolen item of clothing from her mistress. She had gone back to her former master, and it was against him that the petition was raised. I found this situation intriguing and complex enough for me to want to fill in the gaps with fiction. I started researching East African slavery, the extent of it, how it differed from the transatlantic West Coast slavery and how nineteenth century Sudan was a gateway to the lucrative markets of Cairo and Istanbul.

AFRICAN ARGUMENTS: Akuany isn’t the book’s only female voice – other characters include Fatimah, Yaseen’s mother, and his wife, Salha. It’s refreshing to have so many female voices on a period that we usually only hear through the voices of men. Could you talk a little about this?

ABOULELA: Unfortunately, women are merely footnotes in the historical records. I had to dig and pick up threads here and there. Certainly, I never found a first-person account from a woman’s perspective. Throughout the Mahdist wars, women accompanied the army. They cooked, nursed and set up market stalls every step of the way. They also played a part in espionage, gathering data and passing it on – this inspired the role played by Yaseen’s mother in the novel. I was also excited to discover that the Mahdi had sent a woman ambassador to the Khartoum palace. I also used that in the novel.

AFRICAN ARGUMENTS: As popular interest in the historical novel in Africa grows, what are your thoughts on its future in African fiction?

ABOULELA: Mainstream history has been written by the coloniser. This is their truth. It is time for us to tell ours. When Africans write history, we are not necessarily saying something about the world today. Much of the motivation comes from wanting to tell our side of the story. I am more excited by African historical novels than by any other genre. At the moment, Africa’s encounter with Europe is the focus of much historical fiction. Perhaps in the future, writers will move away from this and delve into the even deeper past before European colonialism. There is a rich, fascinating history that needs to be told.

AFRICAN ARGUMENTS: Could you please share your experience of researching and writing this novel? While a number of the central characters were actual historical figures, were the other major characters purely invented, are they composites of individuals you encountered during your research, or are they stand-in figures perhaps for individuals you did not want to name?

ABOULELA: None are stand-in individuals. The actual historical figures were the Mahdi, Gordon, Sheikh Amin Al-Darir and Rabiha. Much has been written about the Mahdi and even more about Gordon and there were his journals too. So apart from conjuring up Gordon’s voice, there was a large amount of material to work with – and that posed a challenge too because I had to be selective. On the contrary, there was very little on Al-Darir, head of the Khartoum ulema, so I depended on my imagination. Rabiha appears in the historical records as a footnote – the woman who overheard a conversation as she was herding her goats and then ran through the night to warn the revolutionaries about the government’s intended attack. She is mentioned time and again in every record but with little detail. I enjoyed fleshing her out and elevating her position through my imagination.

AFRICAN ARGUMENTS: Could you tell us more about the concept of the ‘Mahdi’ in Islam?

ABOULELA: The Mahdi is not mentioned in the Qur’an. He is, though, described in great detail in many of the sayings of the Prophet Muhammad صلى الله عليه وسلم, the Hadith. He is described as the Expected Redeemer, the Rightly Guided One, who would, close to the end of Time, bring justice and prosperity after years of earthquakes, tyranny and oppression. His name would be Muhammed Abdullah, he would rule for seven or eight prosperous years and during these years many of the imminent signs that herald the end of the world will take place. Throughout the history of Islam, around thirty men claimed to be the Expected Mahdi.

AFRICAN ARGUMENTS: You speak of having grown up 4km from Gordon’s Palace. Are there any other elements of your family’s history in the novel?

ABOULELA: My great grandfather was an immigrant from the south of Egypt, and he was an employee in the colonial government. He was staunchly opposed to the Mahdi in every possible way. When the Mahdi and his army entered Omdurman, my great grandfather dug a pit in his yard and hid his five daughters there because he was afraid they would be raped. I used the idea of the pit in the novel but to hide a man rather than young girls!

AFRICAN ARGUMENTS: Given your reliance on the colonial archive, do you believe it is important to widen access especially to Western archives for writers who do not have access to records of their own history? We ask this in the light of the current artefacts restitution campaign. While its target is looted African artefacts, the bulk of the colonial documentary archive was carted off to imperial capitals at the end of the colonial era and remains largely inaccessible to Africans on the continent. Is there a need for a similar restitutive campaign targeting the colonial archive?

ABOULELA: Because I am bilingual, I did not need to rely solely on the archives found in Britain. Half of my research was dependent on Arabic records. Even though some of these primary sources had been translated into English and I read English faster, I read them in the original Arabic. They are brilliant because they expose ordinary people’s day to day lives during these wars. Through them I was able to learn about the texture of life at the time, how people ate, travelled, communicated, their expectations and anxieties. In answer to your question, I believe it is important to widen access and a restitutive campaign is justified. I would also stress the issue of records written in mother tongues and translations because it is within these local languages that the primary African perspective resides. It is shocking for example that one of my most valued primary sources, The Memoirs of Babiker Badri (born in 1861), written in Arabic and widely published in Sudan, is out of print in its English translation. And even that translation, carried out in the early 1960s can do with some freshening up. This is a vital African text and yet it is not widely accessible due to the issue of translation. I am sure there are other texts too, written in African languages, that need to be translated and published.

AFRICAN ARGUMENTS: Finally, we are eager to hear more about your research into slavery in the old Ottoman Empire that tyrannised much of East Africa and the Horn. What is its enduring legacy in the region, its hinterlands and diasporas?

ABOULELA: To my surprise, I did not find abundant resources on East Coast Slavery. It is definitely an area that needs to be further researched. Ironically after decades of active engagement in the trans-Atlantic slavery, Britain launched a passionate attack on the Ottoman/Arab/Egyptian slave trade. Suppressing it became a reason for British expansion and the subsequent colonisation of Sudan. As a result, much that was written about the Ottoman slave trade is laden with a righteous European indignation that was intent on justifying the need for colonial expansion in order to suppress the brutal East Coast slave trade. When people think of slavery, they are likely to think of the long Atlantic passage and the plantation culture accompanied by deep systematic racism. The East Coast slave experience was different. Capitalism was not the driving force of the Arabs and Ottomans. Instead, they mostly enslaved men for military service and women for domestic labour. You ask about the legacy. When I read about the Sudanese child soldiers recruited by Saudi Arabia for their war in Yemen, and the Ethiopian maids abused in Lebanon, my blood runs cold.

[hslllot]

Part I. Draft Day

fic masterlist | rated: m, mature | word count: 4.6k content/warning: hockey harry, nosey family members, a very brief mention of anxiety, overzealous hockey stans. 

DRAFT REPORT: The 411 on Harry Styles by John Michaelson for Sportsnet

There’s this kid named Harry Styles. He plays hockey. Ever heard of him? 

At this point there’s not much else to be said about the british Fighting Hawks’ centre, a lock to be the No.1 pick in the 2015 NHL Draft. 

Dubbed a generational talent, Styles’ abilities are at a level typically only seen in video games. We all know the Edmonton Oilers will select him with the first overall pick on June 26. In years to come, hockey fans from around the globe (but especially Oilers fans) will be on the edge of their seats, watching to see if the phenom can develop into a future Hockey Hall of Fame talent the way Wayne Gretzky and Mario Lemieux did. 

Here’s what you need to know about Harry Styles: 

Age on June 26: 19 Birthplace: Redditch, Worcestershire, England Current team: University of North Dakota Fighting Hawks  Position: Centre Shoots: Left Height: 6-foot Weight: 190 lbs NHL Central Scouting Rank (North American): 1st

Harry Styles is a franchise-changing player in every sense of the word. He looked like a pro player even before he flew across the pond at a young age to play in the Canadian Hockey League. This has been a long time coming but the future is finally here.

He is talented beyond his years and always has been… Styles has played against older competition his entire career. Growing up in the small village of Holmes Chapel in Cheshire, England, the options for minor hockey teams were limited. Styles struggled to find a team in his age group that matched his talent level and was forced to play with older kids - and even then his talent was unmatched. Like the two other players from the UK currently playing in the NHL, Styles eventually had to leave home and play junior hockey in Canada, where he still had to play up a year against Canadian kids that grew up in a country that eats, sleeps, and breathes the game. 

He should have been drafted 1st overall last year… Styles shocked the hockey world in 2013 when, instead of declaring for the 2014 NHL Draft, he announced he would be attending the University of North Dakota and lead the Fighting Hawks to an NCAA Championship. Styles, ever the media-trained athlete, dodged questions about why he chose to go to university for a year before joining the NHL, simply stating “University was always a part of the plan, no matter what happened with hockey.” The hockey community let out a collective sigh of relief when his agent, Jeffrey Azoff (whose father was, coincidentally, Wayne Gretzky’s agent), announced shortly after his championship win that after one year at UND, Styles would be declaring for the 2015 Draft. 

His trophy case is full... Harry Styles has won pretty much every individual hockey award he could possibly win in his career so far. During his CHL career with the Vancouver Giants he won Rookie of the Year, multiple MVP awards, the award for most goals, assists, and overall points, and scholastic player of the year. During his short-lived NCAA career with UND, he won Rookie of the Year, the Hobey Baker Award as the top men’s hockey player, and was named to the Academic All-American team. Unfortunately, Great Britain’s ice hockey team will not be qualifying for the Olympics or the World Championships any time soon, so unless Styles applies for Canadian citizenship, international trophies and medals will be difficult to come by. Regardless, I have a feeling that there will be many Stanley Cups in his future. 

He really hates underperforming… The kid puts a lot of pressure on himself. As we have seen with many successful athletes, an insatiable inner drive to compete can lead to greatness. Styles has that drive to be great and can be his own worst critic. “When I was growing up, my mum was worried about me because I was a bit of a perfectionist.” Styles told The Hockey News back in December. “When I had a bad game, I would get so upset about it. It’s just how I am and how I think every athlete should be. Good is never enough. It’s important to always keep learning and growing to better yourself.”

He is excited to play for the Oilers… Not that he would have anything bad to say about any of the 30 NHL teams, but the Oilers do hold a special place in Styles’ heart. “It’s a great hockey town with fans that are super passionate about the game.” He told The Hockey News. “They’ve been on a bit of a slide the last couple years but the team has a great history. Not many people watch the NHL where I’m from, but my dad was always interested in it and that’s how I got into the game. He was an Oilers fan during their dynasty years with Gretzky and Messier… So if they do end up drafting me first overall, I’ll feel honored to be a part of the team, and it’ll be a nice tribute to my dad.” 

Be sure to catch our live 2015 NHL Draft coverage on June 26 starting at 5pm EST/2pm PT only on Sportsnet.

“With the first overall pick in the 2015 NHL Entry Draft the Edmonton Oilers are proud to select, from Holmes Chapel in England, Harry Styles.”

The room erupted in loud cheers and applause as the Edmonton Oilers drafted the National Hockey League’s newest and most sought after commodity. 

Y/N’s closest friends and extended family roamed around her parents’ living room, congratulating one another with hugs and handshakes like one of their own family members was just drafted. That wasn’t the case though, they were all just deeply invested in the hockey team and the boy from England that was meant to turn things around after so many years of losing. They were so invested, in fact, that the family organized a gathering similar to something you might see on a holiday, like Thanksgiving or Christmas.

While it was not a normal holiday, for Y/N’s family it was just as significant. It was Draft Day. And every hockey fan in North America wanted Harry Styles to play for their team.

“That’s quite the suit, isn’t it?” Her uncle Will pointed to the television where the young man is dressed in an ornate red floral suit and black dress shirt. The suit was flashier than what most hockey players would wear, but it’s clear that Harry Styles is not like most hockey players. The camera panned to him as he stood up from his seat and hugged the two brunette women sitting next to him. He stuck out like a sore thumb among a sea of other young hockey players all dressed in variations of black and grey as they patiently waited to be drafted from the stands of the BB&T Centre in Florida. It was clear to Y/N that, much like his hockey skills, Harry Styles’ fashion sense was superior compared to his peers.

There was an air of excitement in the room as the draft party, all clad in blue and orange jerseys, watched the generational talent walk down the stairs of the arena and make his way to the stage. They collectively held their breath, the room becoming silent, when he arrived at the stage where both the owner and general manager of the team were waiting to greet him. Harry shook their hands before they handed him his own blue and orange jersey. As he slipped the jersey over his head and posed for a photograph with the executives, the silence in the room broke and excited conversations and speculations for the upcoming season continued. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a stir in her belly and a sense of anticipation for what the upcoming hockey season would bring. 

Her thoughts lingered on the man on the screen, wondering what it might be like to meet him, when her brother pulled her out of her reverie. “Can you believe you’ll be working with the Harry Styles?” 

No - she couldn’t quite believe it. 

In fact, everything happening in her life right now seemed a bit too good to be true.

Set to start her third year of university in September and having to complete mandatory practicum hours in order to graduate the following year, she somehow managed to secure a placement with her favourite hockey team. The Oilers were only taking three students from the university program and everyone in the program wanted one of those spots. 

The application process was incredibly stressful for Y/N. One telephone interview, one in-person interview, and a practical session where she had to demonstrate her athletic therapy skills to the team’s head trainer. She did well with the phone interview, given that they weren’t able to see her. She was able to look down at the talking points she wrote in her notebook and pause to take a couple deep breaths without making it obvious that she was reeling on the inside. Her anxiety got the best of her during the in-person interview though, freezing up when they asked simple questions like “why do you want to work for the team?” and “what experience do you have working with sport teams?”

She left the interview feeling embarrassed, but instead of taking the time to wallow and feel sorry for herself, she went home and spent hours upon hours taping her brothers’ ankles in preparation for the practical session the following day. There was no way she was going to let the opportunity fall through the cracks. Her dream of working for the Oilers was the whole reason she decided to go to school for athletic therapy in the first place. She was never any good at playing hockey but she knew in her heart that, someday, she would work for the team she loved so much. At the end of it all, she reckons her taping skills saved her, so she took her brother out to his favourite restaurant to thank him for letting her use his ankles for practice.

Fast forward a few months and she’s now stood in her parents living room thinking about how in three months she could be taping Harry Styles’ ankles.  

At the time of her application, no one knew the Oilers would be picking first in the draft. The aura around the team was a bit negative at the time (because of all the losing) and there were rumours circulating the city that some of the star players were rude to the support staff and liked to party a little too hard at The Ranch (which contributed to said losing). 

When she first decided to apply for the position her father warned her, “there’s a saying that you should never meet your heroes. What if they’re all a bunch of assholes and you end up hating the team you’ve loved your whole life?” 

Y/N ignored her father’s warning but silently hoped that others would feel that way, narrowing down the applicant pool. However, the rumours circulating the team had no effect on the amount of students applying for the job. The fans were loyal in Edmonton (a city not known by many around the world unless you follow hockey or are compelled to visit North America’s largest shopping mall) and although the team was losing, every kid studying athletic therapy wanted a shot with their favourite team. Y/N knew of at least fifteen students that she beat out for the position. 

Now, it’s late June and there is a general hype surrounding the team, as if Harry was about to come in and shine a light on the Decade of Darkness (a term Oilers fans use to characterize the recent years in which their favourite team hadn’t made the playoffs). That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person, but Y/N supposed that he’s been dealing with this kind of pressure since he was sixteen, maybe even younger. 

Everyone at her family’s draft party was, yet again, watching the television intently while Harry gave his first interview as an official member of the Edmonton Oilers hockey team. While Y/N normally loved watching these types of interviews, she was a bit zoned out- mesmerized by the look of him. The suit, the wavy chestnut hair, the dimple in his left cheek, the accent. The accent. She had never really been that attracted to hockey players, which many people found hard to believe given that she’s such a fan of the sport. All of the guys from her high school who played minor hockey were rotten and thought they were better than everyone else. She did have favourite players in the NHL, players that she loved and admired, but they were her favourites because she loves how they play the game, not because she wants to fuck them. 

There was something different about Harry Styles though. Not necessarily that she wanted to fuck him (especially since she recently signed an employment contract that would forbid it), but she was certainly feeling intrigued by him. He doesn’t look like the boys she went to high school with. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s British, or that he opted for a suit that set him apart from the rest of them, or maybe it was the duality of the way he held himself with unshakeable confidence in his floral suit, his gaze set intensely on the person interviewing him, posture strong and dominant, while simultaneously speaking so softly, his words laced with kindness and gratitude.

“When do you start working with the team, Y/N?” Her uncle Will asked from across the room, prompting everyone to look in her direction waiting for her response. 

The news that Y/N would be working for the Oilers this season shook the family. As soon as her dad shared the news with his brother, she started receiving messages expressing congratulations from her many aunts, uncles, and cousins, shortly followed by messages asking if she would be getting free tickets to games. 

“Um, mid-September, for training camp.” 

“You get to meet Harry Styles?” her 9 year old cousin, Billy, asked. 

“I do. I will be one of the team’s trainers.” The young boy held a look of wonder on his face, as if realizing for the first time that that his oldest cousin was actually kind of cool. 

“Do you think he’s single?” Her aunt Maria asked with a smirk on her face, turning to the television to look at Harry Styles. Aunt Maria doesn’t care much for hockey but she never failed to mention which players she believed to be handsome. She was also the nosey type of aunt that liked to inquire about Y/N’s dating life. “Maybe you two will hit it off.”

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes at her aunt, waving off her comment. But before she could retort, her father chimed in. “Ha! Yea, right! That’s not going to happen. She’s not allowed to date anyone on the team, it’s the rules. Plus, Y/N knows better than to get involved with any of these guys.” 

Her father was right. It is the rules. Y/N thought back to when she went into the Oilers headquarters back in April to sign her employment contract. She asked a lot of questions, making sure she understood everything about the document she was signing. 

“Personal relationships? Even friendships are forbidden?” she asked the head trainer, TJ, for clarification. 

“It depends. You can be friendly, sure, but I would avoid spending time with the players outside of training and game times. Could be seen as unprofessional.”  

Y/N understood why such rules were in place, and she had no issue with it at the time. A woman securing a position on a professional sports team was rare, let alone a woman securing a position with a professional men’s team. She knew when she chose this career path that it would always be an uphill battle and that she’d have to work harder and be more strategic than the men in her field. She wanted- no, needed to excel and prove that she could be a talented athletic therapist and a valuable member of the team, so she had no intention whatsoever of messing that up with any type of personal relationships. She also understood the power dynamic between the professional athletes and the support staff, the different ways in which power can be abused, and how personal relationships could complicate things. It all made sense to her. Plus, she was happy enough with just becoming friends with the other trainers and she probably wouldn’t have a lot of free time, anyways, balancing her practicum and her school work.

Today, however, she couldn’t help the very slight pull on her heartstrings at the thought of not getting to know Harry Styles on a more personal level. 

As if he’d even be interested in the first place.

In a hotel restaurant in Sunrise, Florida, a few hours after the draft, Harry Styles sat with his mother Anne, sister Gemma, and agent Jeff, celebrating his newly drafted status over a bottle of champagne. He knew he should be feeling elated, like it was the best day of his life, but all he felt was exhausted. The conversation at the table happened around him while he sat in his own head, unable to think about anything but what it might feel like to be tucked into his bed in his childhood bedroom in Holmes Chapel. 

The weeks leading up to the draft were an absolute circus filled with interviews and talking to the media nearly every day (he hates talking to the media), shooting promo for all of his endorsements (he’s thankful for the money they give him but he knows he is an excruciatingly terrible actor), and flying around North America to visit all of the potential cities where he might be drafted (it was a pointless tour because everyone knew where he was going to end up). 

He had only tonight to celebrate with his family before it was all set to start again. Him and Jeff will fly off to Edmonton tomorrow morning for a week to speak to the media there, meet the teammate he’ll be living with, and do a surprise skating session with some kids at a summer camp. Meanwhile, his mum and sister will fly back to England.

“Any idea where you’ll live then?” Anne asked her son, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the conversation. 

“Hm?” He hadn’t a clue what his mum just asked him but he’d hate to admit that rather than listening to anything the three of them had been talking about for the last hour he’d been thinking about how he’d rather be sleeping “Sorry, I think the champagne’s got to me a bit.” 

“The team’s got him living with one of his older teammates and his family.” Jeff stepped in, knowing Harry wasn’t fully paying attention. “They do this with the young guys to get them used to living on their own. Teach ‘em how to cook, do laundry, and keep ‘em in line. He won’t be partying every night and bringing girls back to his place if he lives with the guy’s wife and kids.” 

“Oh please,” Gemma chimed in. “Not like any of that would be an issue for Harry. He’s been away from home for years. And he’s hardly got time for partying and dating.” 

Harry shot Jeff a look warning him to keep his mouth shut. When Harry found out about the living arrangements the team had planned for him, he was less than pleased. After all, he’d just spent the last year living in a dorm room at the University of North Dakota where he had complete freedom. Gemma was right, he didn’t have much time for partying and dating. But he liked having his own space, and he really liked being able to invite someone over after a game, either to celebrate a win or relieve some stress after a loss. 

“You never know, some of these young guys get their first big pay cheque and a taste of the big leagues and it can go off the rails pretty fast.”

“I like to think I raised my baby to know better than to get caught up in a pay cheque.” Anne placed a comforting hand on her son’s shoulder and he quickly reciprocated, reaching up to place his hand over hers.  

Not liking where this conversation was going, Harry finally cut in. “You did. And Jeffrey, you know I’m not that kinda guy. Either way, none of this matters if I don’t make it past training camp. For all we know I could be going back to the juniors for the season.”

“Doesn’t matter who you are or what kinda guy you are, H, it’s just what the team does. It’s tradition. And c’mon, I know you like to keep your expectations in check, but the team’s made it pretty clear that you’re gonna be in the starting lineup come October.” 

Jeff was right. The team had all but promised that he would make it past training camp. The question wasn’t if he’d make it past training camp, but in what shape he’d be in and how long it would take for the team to start winning games.  

“The coach said I’m small and need to bulk up, especially since I’ll be playing against older, more experienced men.” Harry could feel the weight of his mum’s gaze as she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not quite where I need to be yet, but I’ll get there.”

Harry and his family were stood in the hotel lobby with Jeff, convening on plans for the morning when he felt a small tug on the hem of his red floral suit jacket. He spun himself around, ready to confront the individual bold enough to touch him without his consent, to find a young girl, no older than five years old staring up at him. 

Harry looked at her, a bit taken aback and undoubtedly with a bit of confusion written on his face, and then spotted, a few feet behind her, two individuals who were most likely her parents. Suddenly, he realized that he may have actually had a few too many glasses of champagne and immediately tried to compose himself, standing straighter and trying to will away the exhaustion in his eyes and the haziness in his mind. 

“Oh - um, hello there.” He cleared his throat before using the soft voice he reserves for adorable, small children like the one stood before him. 

“Are you Harry Styles?” She asked with wide eyes and a small, timid voice.

“I am, sweetheart. What can I do for you?” 

A bright smile etched itself onto her face. But instead of answering him, she looked back at the adults standing behind her, motioning for them to help as she was too shy to proceed on her own. The man, who Harry presumed was her father, moved to stand beside her. 

“This is Millie. She wanted to say hi to you because she’s a big fan of yours.” 

Harry lowered himself in front of the young girl so that he was crouched down and eye-level with her. “Hi Millie, it’s a real pleasure to meet you.” He reached out to shake the young girl’s small hand. “Have you got anything that I could sign? Or I suppose we could take a photo if you’d like?” 

The young girl removed her hand from Harry’s, nodding her head eagerly. She began to unzip her jacket, revealing a bright orange Edmonton Oilers jersey underneath. 

“Oh? Look at that! You’re an Oilers fan. In Florida?” Harry lifted himself from his crouched position and directed his question toward at the girl’s father.

“Yes, well, we actually travelled here from Edmonton, to watch the draft in person.” Harry raised his eyebrows in shock. He knew that the flight from Edmonton to Florida is long, and likely expensive. The tickets to attend the draft live probably weren’t cheap either. “It’s not every day your favourite team picks first overall! Let alone gets to pick a player like you. We were so excited so we decided to make a family trip out of it. Turn around, Millie, show him the back!” Millie’s father handed Harry a sharpie as Millie turned her back to Harry. 

It was at that moment that Harry started to understand the weight of the moment. The name ‘STYLES’ was embroidered on the back of Millie’s Oilers jersey, above the number ‘15’ indicating his draft year. He was speechless. This was, after all, the first time he was seeing his name in the classic Oilers’ orange and blue colours adorned on a fan’s back. 

The feeling was different from earlier at the draft when they presented him with his own jersey. This one belonged to someone else. Someone bought his jersey before he’d even ever played a single minute for the team. They flew across the continent, from Edmonton to Florida, just to watch him get drafted. It was a lot for his hazy, champagne-diluted mind to take in.

Realizing he’d just been standing there staring at the jersey, he cleared his throat once again in hopes that he could hide the unknown thoughts and emotions he was trying to reconcile. “Wow, um, I didn’t realize you could get these already.”

Millie’s father laughed, “Man, they’ve been selling these in Edmonton since they announced we’d be picking first in the draft.” Again, the feeling was overwhelming for Harry. 

We’d be picking first in the draft.

To this family, and probably others in Edmonton, the Oilers were “we”. They win together, they lose together. If the Oilers pick first in the draft, they all pick first. It was their team. And now he, Harry, was a part of that “we”.

Harry reached down to sign the jersey on Millie’s back, quickly scribbling his autograph on the left side. As he straightened himself, he felt Anne move to stand beside him, apparently having sensed her son’s unease and unconscious need for his mother to join him in this moment.

“Hi, I’m Harry’s mum, Anne. Would you like me to take a picture of the four of you?” Millie’s father eagerly handed his phone to Anne and waved his wife over to be in the photo. Several photos of Harry and the family were taken, followed by a few of just Harry and Millie. 

“Would you mind if I took one of Harry and Millie on my phone as well?” Anne asked as she snapped the last photo. “This is the first time Harry’s met a fan wearing his name on an Oilers jersey. We’d like to remember it.” 

The family was more than happy to oblige so Anne took a few more photos on her phone, including one where Millie’s back was to the camera and the ‘STYLES’ name in full view. 

It was so like his mum to understand how special the moment was and to come in and save him. He couldn’t quite articulate what he was feeling in that moment, as understanding emotions and sentimentality were not his greatest strengths, and he most definitely never would have asked to take a photo to keep for himself had she not done it. 

The obvious feelings were joy and gratitude. Every day he was thankful to play the game he loved, to be successful, and to have fans that loved and supported him. It didn’t always make sense that complete strangers paid him so much attention just for playing a game, but he accepted it and always tried to show those strangers kindness in return. However, there was another feeling lingering, one that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Looking at his mum, he knew that she knew what it was. She always knew. And certainly she would make him talk about it later.

As they separated from the family and walked toward the hotel elevators, where Gemma and Jeff were waiting, Anne grabbed onto her son’s arm, holding him close as they walked side by side. 

“Do you see that they love you already, my darling?” She asked. Harry raised an eyebrow at his mum, unsure of what she was going on about. “I know you. I know that you care what people think and that you are scared to disappoint them. You just need to step out on the ice and be yourself. Just be Harry. They already love you and this is only just the beginning.”

WOW! OK. I know it’s a bit of a slow start, but I wanted this chapter to be more of an introduction to harry and the mc and to the fan culture that harry is about to experience!! I’ve already started on the next part so that should be up before Christmas! If you’ve made it this far, all I can say is that I love you and appreciate you. If you liked it, please let me know. I debated not posting this so many times (and I might even regret it later) so feedback will certainly ease my troubled mind!! I ALWAYS LOVE YOU, BUT ESPECIALLY TODAY!! xx Shan. 

Harry’s Draft Day Look

talk to me about generational | fic masterlist

[danteriverflow]

Things to think about

Version 1

1. A Council of the Isles

The purpose is to discuss areas of shared values/interests/concerns equally. To be attended by:

UK PM (if it still exists)

Regional English representatives (perhaps North, Middle, South)

1st Minister of Scotland

1st Minister of Wales

1st Minister of NI (unless Irish unification)

Gibraltar

Channel Islands

Isle of Man

Other significant island groups. (Outer Hebrides?, Shetland, Orkney, Atlantic islands, Diego Garcia, Falklands, etc)

Representative from Republic of Ireland

2. Brexit

Create a mini common market for perishable goods (Food, Fish, agricultural products) with the EU. No quotas/tariffs. Mirroring relevant EU standards.

Create a European Citizens Card granting shared UK/EU citizenship to anyone who wanted to apply for it.

EU workers rights to be mirrored as a baseline standard.

3. MP Reform / Elections

PM to be directly elected by the public. From the majority party, no longer simply to be the leader of the majority party.1

MPs ousting a sitting PM become ineligible for reelection.

Proportional Representation for general elections.

A “None of the Above” option to be added to ballot papers.

All party names, logos and branding to be removed from ballot papers and polling stations.

Less than 75% voter turn out reduces the parliamentary term to two years.

Voting age reduced to 16 years

Parliamentary term of 4 years. (Unless voter turn out is too low)

Elections to be held on the first Sunday of June.

Referendums regarding Constitutional change can only be won if two thirds of entire electorate vote for the proposition.

Formalised, legally binding, independently set, and judged, code of conduct for MPs (with real consequences for breaking them i.e prison, entire family banned from holding public office). 2

Fixed budget for MPs offices per annum, equal to per pupil funding. No expenses at all.

Parliament/the Crown/the state to purchase offices, with living spaces above in each constituency for the sitting MP. No other accommodation is paid for by the state.

MP starting salary to be the same as the starting salary of a teacher or nurse. (Same performance related criteria used for pay rises)

Pensions and other benefits to be the same as a teacher or nurse.

During periods of parliamentary shutdown (holidays) MPs will be tasked with doing seasonal work, fruit picking, etc. Salaries withheld for non-compliance. (Added to MP code of conduct rules.)

MPs pledge allegiance to: The nation, its people and the rule of Law and not the crown.

The right to national self-determination.

MPs barred from using social media.

MP's with external interests (must be declared, code of conduct) are banned for participating in votes and discussions where that interest is pertinent.

4. House of Lords Reform3

Creation of the title “Lord Senator” for people who will sit as the second chamber.

Limited to 99 people who hold the title for 3 years.

They must have demonstrable expertises in a specific field. (Science, medicine, law, education, commerce, etc.)

They may be reselected to sit for a further 3 years.

They will be nominated by a cross party committee and voted on by 101 (this number could larger if desired) randomly chosen (jury service style) “Citizen Electors”.

Traditional honours will still be awarded but only public nominations for those honours will be considered. Political donors will automatically be exempted from ever receiving an honour (honours will be stripped from political donors).

Titles bestowed will be honorary and receive no state funding or benefits. Titles may not be used as name salutations. These honours will be removed publicly for misconduct.

5. Party Funding

Political donations to be taxed at 60% over £5000

Donations may only come from tax paying, resident British Citizens.

End of Non-Dom status. Holders of UK birth certificate pay UK taxes regardless of where they live.

Publicly searchable database to be created for donors. (Who they are, where they are based, tax status, how much they have donated etc.)

All donations to be collected together and distributed equitably amongst all parties.

All political party’s must have a leader elected directly by its members.

6. Education

All schools become Free Schools. Academies abolished.

Eton to be closed and burnt to the ground.

All schools to have a board of governors made up of staff, parents, local officials, and community people to hold school leadership to account.

LEA to resume it’s old purpose, but without responsibility for standards.

Schools to, once again, receive their budget in one lump sum.

Academy Trust leadership to be disbarred from school leadership/OfSTED and lesser roles in schools will be highly controlled and limited in scope.

OfSTED to be scrapped and remade.

No notice of visit

No fixed length of visit

Old grading to be scrapped and replaced with 5 star ratings for multiple specific areas.

All teachers to be observed for 1 full teaching lesson, but not personally graded or evaluated.

Inspectors must hold the rank of Deputy Head or higher with a minimum 10 years classroom teaching experience.

Teachers will be chosen at random to become inspectors for one school inspection.

OfSTED to publish no documentation/guidance except the inspection report.

Privatised exam boards to be scrapped and replaced by a single national system.

Academic qualifications set by professional academic bodies (universities or Royal institutes)

Vocational qualifications to be set by trade guilds so training and qualifications are relevant to their field.

Students will have a mixed experience of academic/vocational education set to their needs and aspirations.

Students will develop a personal record of achievement. School achievements, exam grades, work experience, outside experiences (scouts/guides, coaching, sport achievements, Music, etc). All has equal weight.

What students do after they have finished compulsory education will be used to help parents' evaluate a school's performance.

Primary schools will focus on Literacy, Numeracy and the joy of learning.

Primary schools to include nature awareness. Plants, animals, trees. Camping trips, rambling, community allotments.

All student's learn a foreign language and offered the chance to participate in a student exchange program.

7. Monarchy4

Monarch would be retained, but stripped of all divinity/superiority.

They will be trained from birth to be head of state.

The extended family will not receive any titles, state funds, assistance or grace and favour lodgings.

The bells and whistles pageantry will be reduced to a basic minimum. Maybe keep some of it for the tourists.

8. Policing

A small national police force to deal with terrorism, organised crime, people smuggling - Pan-national crime.

County Constabularies to focus on local issues. Petty crime, cats up trees.

Police Stations to be closed and replaced with Tardis style community based police boxes.

Police Constables to spend all their time out in the community.

Interviews of suspects to occur with independent public observation.

Detention cells will not be under police control.

De-militarisation of Police uniforms. Return to more traditional uniforms.

No guns, no tasers.

Police to be trained in non lethal de-escalation techniques.

Soldiers serving in the armed forces will be looked after for life. Housing, physical care and mental health, transition from soldier to civilian. Their partners and children under 18 will also be looked after.

Instead of going to war the leaders of each country must fight each other one-on-one. The winner is victorious, no reprisals. Legally binding contract/treaty to be agreed before hand.

Crime and punishment will be separated.

Parliament decides what types of activity are criminal.

Parliament decides what types of "punishment" are available.

Courts decide if the evidence presented proves the accused is guilty of what they have been accused.

Courts decide what sentence is appropriate for that person from the punishments available.

"Punishment" should not be vindictive but to prevent recidivism.

If an activity becomes de-criminalised those already serving a sentence for that crime are immediately released from that sentence.

9. Housing

Buy-to-let mortgages to be abolished. If you can’t afford to own it outright you can’t afford to rent it out.

Rent to be capped at 60% of the equivalent monthly mortgage payments. If the mortgage was £1000 per month the maximum rent you can charge is £600 pounds in total for the property, not per person.

Minimum rental duration to be 5 years. Short term rentals will be called hotels.

Long term rentals (20+years) will be offered the chance to take ownership. Sale price minus the total rent paid.

All homes built will be council owned.

Council houses sold must be returned to council ownership for price paid, not market value, if less than 20 years has passed since sale.

Houses to be sold by the square metre, not by number of bedrooms. To aid comparison.

10. Environment / Economy / Society

Solar panels on the roof of every public building.

Smaller wind turbines added to lamp posts along motorways.

Companies selling products that use excessive/unnecessary plastic packaging taxed more.

More community green spaces in housing areas.

Switch farming from animal to cereal/vegetable.

Phase out large Power Stations, replace with smaller less damaging ones.

Better recycling/reuse for more types of materials.

More clothing reuse/recycling.

Abolish crypto currencies/Bitcoin.

Find a better alternative to petrol and electric cars.

Balance should be created between work and home life.

Plant more fruit trees in public areas.

Transform the economy from growth driven to sustainability. Stop keep making stuff just to sell just to keep profits increasing.

Job security. Happy, nurtured people work better/harder and more productively. Also get ill less.

Allow people space for personal development. Passive skills enrich life and work. Motherhood/maternity (and paternity) leave should not be seen as a hinderance but an asset to a company. The skills developed raising a child are huge.

Life is for people. Take the people out of a business and the business disappears. Get rid of the business and the people are still there.

All life is valid.

The right to personal self-identification. (Yes, you can identify as a panda, if you so wish)

Universal Basic Income £12,000 per year5

Homeless people are to be provide with a proper home to live in, paid work tending outdoor public spaces, community projects or something more suitable is provided (only to provide up-to-date work experience and references).

Big tech companies to be tax properly on revenue raised from UK income.

Social media users get 15% cut of the money made from selling their data.

Small businesses (revenue under £2 million) pay no tax.

Software sold as subscription must also have a one off payment standalone version for sale.

Subscription services must offer a free, entry level tier where no credit card is needed for signup.

Electronic equipment must be 3rd party repairable.

Subscriptions can be terminated by the customer at any time by writing to the company regardless of how close you are to a renewal period. Failure of the company to comply results in all the money you have ever paid them being refunded to you.

Private companies operating public services may continue to do so but will pay the state 60% of all profits for the privilege. No tax payers money will be handed over to them. Debts incurred will be their own.

Banks will never be bailed out. People's savings up to £150,000 guaranteed.

Separate interest rates for borrowing and saving.

Savings interest rates will be tiered:

10% - £1 to £10,000

5% - £10,001 to £50,000

1% - £50,001 to £100,000

0.5% - £100,001 to £500,000

0.01% - £500,001 to £999,999

-10% - £1,000,000 and over

Redundancies start at the top. CEOs/management get cut first. The people who caused the problems should be punished before those who have no power in an organisation.

Fire and rehire abolished.

Terminally ill patients have the right to end their life on their own terms.

Colonial artefacts held in museums to be duplicated and returned to place of origin, if place of origin want them back.6

Complete global nuclear disarmament.

Notes

P.S.

Tumblr and webbrowsers don't always render markdown as expected, sorry. Footnonte links aren't seeming to work.

A list of candidates from each political party (3 per party) will accompany the ballot paper. The voter would choose one person from each political party they would prefer to be Prime Minister in the event that that party won. (Majority vote wins) ↩︎

13 Citizen Electors will be randomly (and secretly) chosen to evaluate if the accusations breach the code. The accused will remain anonymous to the Electors. ↩︎

I like the idea that people who know what they are talking about (experts) can examine the full ramifications of laws and how those laws will impact upon their field without needing to appeal to, or worry about, populism to win an election. ↩︎

The only reason not to go full republic is to stop the likes of Nigel Farridge, Boris Johnson or some other rightwing twonk or Neo Nazi lording it over us. ↩︎

Available to anyone over the age of 21 with at least 5 years National Insurance contributions (voluntary work, work experience, Saturday jobs, and apprenticeships are valid). Available to anyone who applies for it. No other state money will be received - no job seekers, housing benefits, pensions, working tax credits etc. £12,000 per year is all you get. This should make government expenditure simple because all you need to know is the number of people over 21 multiplied by £12,000. ↩︎

Items we would like to keep will either be bought at market value or leased from country of origin. ↩︎

[icouldbuildacastle-x]

Taylor Swift, why you could never let me down.

Hi, Taylor!

I’m usually a Twitter Swiftie- but what I wanted to write about today was worth way more than a hundred-or-so characters.

I watched your Ellen interview yesterday, and first of all, it was so amazing to see you doing interviews again. I missed you- we all did. There was one part that really stuck out to me though (and no…it wasn’t the leg shaving conversation!)

You were talking about fan theories, and you mentioned about the End Game theory and you said:

‘I let everyone down. Again.”

I know it was in jest, and I know you were laughing about it, but I just thought I’d tell you something that’s pretty personal- and I hope that it encourages you to see that you have certainly never let me down. In fact, you’ve done the opposite. It’s hard for me to write about this- but even if you have a shot at looking at this post… it would be incredible because my goal is to make you see just how wonderful the world is because you’re in it, and how much you affect other people’s lives every day without knowing. So, here goes!

This is me and my mum:

 Her name is Toni. I’m her first born (Charlotte by the way, hi!) We’ve always been super close, and our bond only grew stronger and stronger as I grew up.

I live in a house with my family of five, and every Sunday we had a typical roast dinner. (I’m not sure if this is just a British thing or not, who knows!) My stepdad is always cooking, but he has a habit of using every pot, pan and utensil in the place- which meant cleaning up after him was an absolute nightmare. It was definitely more than a one-man job. My mum and I used to take on the task, and it would have been absolutely dreadful without your music to keep us going!

Now I am the MASSIVE Swiftie of the family. I have been since I was twelve years old (and I’m twenty five now!) However, Mum is a big fan too (mainly because she heard me blasting it out from wherever I could). So, it became a routine for us. I used to put my Taylor Swift playlist on (we’d only gone up to Red- 1989 wasn’t even born yet!) Her favourite song though was always Speak Now. As soon as it came on, we’d end up marching down the kitchen floor (obviously a wedding aisle) with pots, pans and spoons, re-enacting the music video I wish we’d always had! I’m not the biggest fan of cleaning the kitchen, but I always looked forward to those Sundays with Mum.

It all changed in the month of November, 2013. Unexpectedly, Mum woke up one morning and didn’t feel well. Within twenty minutes, she was on the floor. She suffered a grade three subarachnoid brain haemorrhage, which took us all by surprise. I was at University at the time, but came flying home. We almost lost her several times, but she managed to pull through, and I was so very grateful.

The haemorrhage made us pay a price though. Mum gained epilepsy, general fatigue and weakness, sensitivity to noise, confusion and memory loss (and those are just the main ones). It took her a long time to come out of the coma that she had been put into, and she couldn’t remember us for quite a while. Thankfully, that did return, but so much of her memory had disappeared that I felt like I’d lost part of her.

 Eventually, after a few complications in which she was in and out of hospital, Mum returned to us properly in late January. It was hard, and the house was different. Everyone walked on egg-shells, scared they’d put Mum into a seizure. We didn’t want to talk about the past because we didn’t want to make her feel bad if she didn’t remember it (which we’d found, a lot of the time she didn’t.)

We started to cook Sunday dinners again, but I would clean up alone in silence afterwards. I missed my mum, and I missed you. I still listened to you, of course. But it wasn’t the same anymore. As months went by, I still cleaned up on my own, and I felt estranged from my mum because I was hurt she’d forgotten the precious memories we had made- and I know that isn’t her fault, but it still killed me.

Because the living room door was shut, I figured I could afford to have my music on really low. So switched on the playlist of all your songs and was nodding my head along. That was until Speak Now came on. I could have cried, I really could. I got through the first verse and bridge before I couldn’t take much more and went to turn it off. I hadn’t even noticed Mum come out of the living room.

When I turned around and saw her, I was frightened that the noise had made her head hurt. However, when I took proper notice, she was smiling. Then, out of nowhere, she began singing along. Quietly, tapping her fingers on the side and nodding her fragile head. Then I did burst into tears.

After EVERYTHING she had been through. After all the memories she had lost and the pain she had suffered, she remembered your song. You changed our lives that day.

Unfortunately, there have been many complications since. After an attempt to drain an aneurysm that had formed in her brain, Mum suffered from a stroke. She has been in hospital and now in a rehabilitation facility since January 22nd 2019. We miss her so much. However, your music is still bringing her joy. I visit her every other day, and every day I play the ‘ME’ music video. The stroke made her memory even worse, but she loves that video and she loves your song. She can even say ‘Taylor Swift’ now, even if it is a little bit mumbled. Every time I put the video on, her face lights up- and you have done that for her Taylor, and I will always be so so grateful to you.

So, this is a big thank you from me (on behalf of me and Mum, as she can’t quite manage it right now). Thank you for bringing back those memories, thank you for taking us through these dark and isolating times, and thank you especially for always putting a smile on Mum’s face, and giving me a piece of her back that I was so sure that I had lost.

Love,

Charlotte. 

 @taylorswift

[effyeahzimbits]

Swawesome Santa 2018 Submission

Title: Five Times Bitty and Jack Allowed Fate to Get the Better of Them…and the One Time They Took Matters into Their Own Hands Rating: T+ Pairings: Jack/Bitty, mentions of Shitty/Lardo, mentions of Holster/Ransom. Very, very brief Jack/OC and Bitty/OC. Warnings: Alcohol use, brief mentions of Jack’s overdose. Summary: Bitty always felt like he was missing a train he was meant to have taken. Jack always let the universe decide which direction he should go in. It took them three New Year's Eves before they got it right.A 5+1 things AU fic created for the Swawesome Santa, gifted to @loveyoutoobits! I hope you like it.

 Five Times Bitty and Jack Allowed Fate to Get the Better of Them…and the One Time They Took Matters into Their Own Hands   

31st December 2017    Bitty’s first New Year’s Eve in Boston was spent in a bar. He wasn’t a stranger to bars, especially the loud, gaudy one he was in right now. But he had previously rung in the new years with his parents at family parties back in Madison, Georgia, and had been desperate for a change of scenery. When his best friends had suggested a night out on the town, he had jumped at the chance. He never turned down an opportunity to dance and spend the night with his friends.     That was also the night he first met Jack Zimmermann.    

     Now, Bitty didn’t know a great deal about hockey culture. He knew the game and enjoyed it just as much as his friends did, but he never took that much interest in teams’ rosters and star players. But Jack Zimmermann, the Providence Falconers’ current captain, he knew. If only because he scored a hat trick in their last game against the Bruins and Holster was furious for a week. Bitty had been impressed enough to Google him, and had been impressed further by the man’s understated smile and bright blue eyes. Still, he was just another hockey player.     Just another hockey player who turned out to be the best friend of Lardo’s new boyfriend.     Bitty could see right away he wasn’t the partying type. While Bitty and his friends downed shots and sang at the top of their lungs and danced without a care in the world, Jack simply sat at a booth nursing a single beer and watching them have a good time. When questioned he just said he was perfectly happy as he was, and Shitty (Lardo’s boyfriend) would confirm it. Bitty mostly forgot all about him and continued partying. That was, until he felt Jack’s eyes on him.     No one knew how he did it. Hell, even Bitty himself didn’t know how he did it. But one moment he was playfully beckoning Zimmermann from the dance floor, and the next Jack was joining him. He looked just as surprised to find himself there as anyone else, but Bitty wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity. With Shitty, Ransom and Holster all hollering excitedly behind them, Bitty tugged Jack towards him.     It turned out that Jack Zimmermann wasn’t a bad dancer. He was a little shy and awkward at first, swaying stiffly beside him. Bitty would later blame it on the alcohol, but at the time he just simply didn’t think and grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled. Jack’s professional athlete build wasn’t fazed by the gesture, but something in him was, and it was enough to encourage him to move. A couple of songs in, and Jack was matching Bitty’s peppy rhythm.     Bitty couldn’t put his finger on it, especially with his brain fogged with a haze of Jägermeister and Red Bull, but there was something between them that neither of them expected. It was almost an electricity, thrumming with an energy that made the hair on Bitty’s forearms stand on end. It started at their joined hands and vibrated through them until it resonated in their chests. He’d barely said more than two sentences to Jack Zimmermann all night, but suddenly Bitty wanted to kiss him.     He could tell the exact moment Jack became aware of the connection. The easy smile on his face quickly dropped and was replaced with an uneasy confusion. There was a muttered excuse – Bitty couldn’t hear it over the pounding music – and then Jack turned and hurried out of the bar, fighting his way through the crowd. Bitty watched him go, then shrugged carelessly and turned around to dance with his friends again.    It wasn’t until he woke up the next morning, slightly hungover but content, did he wonder if the universe had tried to give him something and he let it pass him by.   5th May 2018     Bitty had explicitly said no parties. Every birthday for the last four years his friends had threw a raging kegster to celebrate. For his first birthday out of college, all Bitty wanted was to call his parents, bake some nice food and share it with his friends over a glass of good wine and the Great British Bake-Off reruns (the better ones, before Mary, Mel and Sue had quit the show obviously). Ransom, Holster and Shitty had taken a little more persuading, but had soon agreed after Bitty had promised his signature peach cobbler and black forest brownies.     His phone call to his parents lasted nearly an hour. His relationship with them had been a little strained since coming out, but it was slowly getting better, and he hung up with a big smile on his face. Lardo had still been in bed at ten that morning, so he went to the store to fetch baking ingredients on his own. It was cliché, but it was a perfect spring day, like it was the movie of his life.     Working as a junior social media and marketing assistant had its perks, like weekends off. Today was a Saturday, so he wandered down to the fresh foods market for his ingredients. The peaches weren’t quite as sweet as the ones back home, but the ones here were a close second. He left an hour later with his tote bag full to the brim with ripened fruit and fresh spices and fingers sticky with pear juice. He stopped by his favourite deli next, the one with the premium butter and organic flour. His budget never usually stretched past Walmart, but he had birthday money burning a hole in his pocket.     It was late afternoon by the time he got home. The kitchen smelled strongly of ground coffee, and he found Lardo perching on a chair and trying to hang purple streamers from the lampshade. She had put on her favourite sweatshirt for the occasion, the one with a rubber duck wearing sunglasses, and that alone made Bitty’s chest swell with happiness. They finished putting up the streamers between them and had lunch, squabbling over whose turn it was to use the one decent plate they had. It was Lardo’s, who overruled Bitty’s birthday argument with a smirk and a flick to his forehead.     An hour later he was elbow deep in pastry when the buzzer rang. It was Ransom and Holster, bearing wine and beer and takeout menus, though they all knew they’d be too full of pie to eat the Chinese food they’d still order. The wine was shared out and they were put to work, greasing tins and chopping fruit. Shitty appeared not long after, and gave Bitty a slurpy, whiskery kiss on his cheek before handing over more wine. He wore a suspicious grin for a whole hour and sang loudly and out of tune to the radio as he peeled peaches.     When the buzzer went a third time, everyone looked around at each other in confusion, except Shitty, who just grinned even wider. Bitty rolled his eyes and wiped his hands on a towel, wondering who on earth Shitty had invited. Maybe a stripper. He didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved when he found a shy looking Jack Zimmermann in the hallway. He was pleasantly surprised though, especially when Jack sheepishly held out a small bunch of flowers and wished him happy birthday.     He’d met Jack a handful of times since New Year’s Eve. He’d learned that Jack wasn’t quite as stoic and robotic in real life as his television interviews would have you believe. He was quiet and reserved, but also thoughtful and could hold his own in an intelligent discussion. His accent was just as endearing though, and Bitty found his awkward shyness adorable. Bitty never denied the attraction to himself, but it was never one he would act on either.     Parties and clubs might not have been his thing, but it turned out that quiet gatherings with people he knew were more to Jack’s taste. He threw himself into the baking, listening to Bitty’s instructions with keen ears and following them with enthusiasm. After a glass of wine Bitty would even call him charming, quick to tease or crack a joke. If Bitty didn’t know any better, he’d say Jack was flirting with him when he flicked flour in his face or purposely nudged his pie out of the way when he tried to take a bite. But Bitty did know better. Guys like Jack were never Not Straight. And even if they were, Bitty was never their type.     It was probably the best birthday he’d ever had, anyway. By the end of the night, his and Lardo’s apartment was a complete mess. The streamers had fallen, there were plates and takeout cartons all over the living room and the kitchen was filled with dirty pans and covered in a fine layer of flour dust. They’d eaten and drank until they were fit to burst, argued over which Bake-Off contestant would win in a mud fight, and Jack had offended them all by declaring he didn’t find Mary Berry all that great. Come midnight, Ransom and Holster had wandered back to their own apartment and Lardo had dragged a wasted Shitty back to her room. Bitty told Jack he didn’t need to stay and help tidy, but Jack insisted anyway.     It was only when they were both alone did Bitty feel it again. That strange electricity that drew Bitty towards Jack like a moth to the flame. He couldn’t blame the alcohol this time, not after only two glasses of wine. Jack either wasn’t aware of it, or was ignoring it, focusing hard on wiping flour from the counter tops. Bitty tried to do the same, humming along to the quiet tune playing on the radio as he filled a trashbag full of rubbish. They worked without a word, moving around almost in tandem, like they had done it a million times before.     Bitty didn’t believe in fate, or soul mates, or past lives. At least, he didn’t until their rhythm was suddenly broken and they bumped into one another. Jack had flour on his nose and a dirty cloth in his hand. Bitty had a smudge of cherry sauce on his mouth and was holding a stack of empty plates. They both laughed and then went still. It felt like they were both waiting for something as they looked at each other, taking in lashes and eyes and noses and freckles and dimples and mouths. Waiting for what though, they didn’t know.     Jack’s phone pinged. It was loud enough to break the reverie and they both pulled free from the spell. Jack could never leave a text unanswered, and for the briefest of seconds Bitty wished that he would. Ignoring a text would make him not-Jack though, so he couldn’t be too disappointed when Jack took a step back and pulled his phone from his back pocket. Bitty cleared his throat and continued his task like nothing had happened.     Jack was still staring at his phone screen a couple of minutes later. His brows were slightly furrowed, but Bitty couldn’t read the expression on his face. He questioned him gently, and Jack almost jumped, like he’d forgotten where he was. He managed an apologetic smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He didn’t explain himself or the text message, and simply announced that he had to leave. With a last ‘happy birthday’ he showed himself to the door and left.     Bitty felt like he had just missed a train that he was supposed to take.   31st December 2018     They didn’t go to a bar that year. Ransom and Holster threw a party in their apartment, though it was thankfully not as outrageous as the kegsters they used to host in college. Their work friends were accountants and administrators and fellow consultants so Bitty wasn’t expecting it to get too wild. He’d had a pleasant, sleepy Christmas with plenty of good food and catching up with family, so didn’t mind that this new year was different to the last. Lardo brought Shitty along, who naturally dragged Jack with him. Bitty was over the moon to hear this, hoping that maybe fate would give them both a helping hand this year.     However, it appeared that fate had other plans in store. Jack appeared at the party as promised, but Bitty hadn’t expected to see a young, smiley blonde man attached to his hip. Jack introduced him as his boyfriend, and Bitty felt like the floor had abruptly disappeared from beneath him. It was a lot to process all at once. He’d started to have suspicions that Jack was Not Straight as Bitty had originally thought, and to have that confirmed was a little overwhelming. Then to learn that he was also suddenly spoken for left Bitty with a bitter taste in his mouth.     He and Jack had grown close over the last few months, and he thought that they shared everything over a glass of wine and a slice of pie. It turned out that was wrong though, and Bitty wasn’t sure what he felt more betrayed about. Still, he plastered on a smile and congratulated them as if it wasn’t a knife through his heart.     Jack’s partner was funny and charming and handsome and everyone liked him. Bitty wanted to hate him, but he couldn’t bring himself to. The man had asked for his macaron recipe and talked about his cat for a full twenty minutes for god’s sake. When Bitty had first walked in, he’d eyed the mistletoe hanging over each door with hopeful eyes, but now he just glared at it acrimoniously. It was an ugly way to feel, but Bitty couldn’t help but think the universe was laughing in his face.     The worst thing was, Jack looked happy. Bitty was pleased for him, but it was tainted, and he hated that it was marred that way. He spied Jack’s hand casually sitting on the man���s waist or spotted a chaste peck on the cheek between them and wanted to down another shot. He didn’t want to spend the night torturing himself, but he didn’t want to succumb to the jealousy either. He left at eleven, feigning a headache and smiling through the well wishes.     He would spend tonight pitying himself, and then starting tomorrow he would get over Jack Zimmermann.   August 3rd 2019     Getting over Jack Zimmermann was damned hard. But Greg helped. Bitty had met him at one of Shitty’s law school mixers. He was an ex-college rugby player, dragged along to the event by his friend. Tall, broad, half Greek with a mop of dark, curly hair and an accent that made Bitty’s knees weak. He hadn’t dated seriously since college, and it was hard work. Between working their full-time jobs, Greg’s beer league rugby and Bitty’s figure skating, they barely had enough time to squeeze in dates and time together, but Bitty enjoyed it all the same.     Greg wasn’t Jack. They didn’t share the same sense of humour, and Greg’s taste in music and television wasn’t to Bitty’s tastes, and Greg was bossier and more assertive than Jack ever was. But he was also kind and caring and Bitty had a nice time with him. Even if he wasn’t Jack. But that was okay, because nobody could be Jack but Jack. And Bitty had to be fine about it. He could do that. They hadn’t had time to hang out much lately, but tonight was Jack’s birthday, and Shitty was throwing a get together in his honour. Bitty hadn’t originally wanted to bring Greg along, though he wasn’t sure why. Shitty had invited him too though, and Greg seemed to be looking forward to it. Bitty couldn’t exactly tell him no.      He had no idea what to get Jack for his birthday. What do you get the man who has everything? And if he didn’t have it, he had more than enough money to buy it anyway. This year, Jack had bought Bitty an entire collection of cookbooks from his favourite baker. Bitty knew it cost more than a whole month’s worth of his wages, though to Jack it was probably nothing. How could Bitty match something like that? He knew Jack wasn’t expecting him to, but it still made him feel inadequate.     Whatever it was, it had to be something special. It was almost an apology. I’m sorry we haven’t hung out much and you’ve taken a backseat to my actual Greek god boyfriend. Bitty didn’t think he should feel too guilty though. As far as Bitty knew, Jack was still with his own boyfriend. It was never talked about in the media for obvious reasons, but still, Bitty would know if they’d broken up. No, this get together would be good for the both of them. They could exist in the same room without that stupid electric connection between them. And even if it did appear, their boyfriends would keep it at bay.     Right?     Wrong.     It wasn’t an entire collection of cookbooks, but Bitty turned up on Jack’s swanky Providence doorstep with Jack’s favourite pie and a Barnes and Noble gift card. A feeble attempt, but he’d genuinely been stumped. He knew Jack liked history books, but Bitty was frightened of getting the wrong one. He explained this to Jack in a nervous ramble as he handed them over, but Jack laughed and thanked him sincerely anyway. It was only after Bitty stepped over the threshold did Jack notice who had been standing beside him.     Bitty introduced Greg hurriedly, hoping his edgy fluster wasn’t completely obvious to either of them. Jack was polite and smiley and shook Greg’s hand, but something about it seemed fake. Bitty tried to ignore it, heading straight to the wine. His friends were already around, and he greeted them with false enthusiasm. Once he had his glass in hand and looked around the apartment he noticed Jack’s boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. The pictures of them both were gone, as were the cat hairs and various caps and hoodies they used to share.     Jack and his boyfriend had broken up.     Bitty could’ve kicked himself. He had been so wrapped up in getting over Jack he’d forgotten to be a friend in the meantime. How long had it been since they had last hung out? Or had a lengthy phone call? The only thing Bitty had managed lately was a few quick texts and picture messages every now and again, all of which Jack had promptly replied to. He felt like an idiot. He had to apologise, but he wasn’t sure that this was the right moment. Jack looked like he was enjoying himself.     A few glasses of wine later, Bitty managed to push his guilt aside for the time being. He’d always loved Jack’s kitchen, and couldn’t resist baking in his top of the range oven, no matter the occasion. He was pulling out a tray of freshly baked mini tarts when he realised he was being watched. People had popped in and out the whole time he was baking, to fill up drinks or fetch snacks, but this time the body lingered. Bitty turned to tell them they’d have to wait a bit longer for the tarts to cool, but the words disappeared off his tongue when he noticed it was Jack.     Jack stood in the doorway, a half-drunk bottle of low alcohol beer in his hand. He had a determined look in his eyes that made Bitty go still, though his heart started to hammer in his chest. He didn’t say anything, waiting for Jack to make the first move. The energy was between them again, throbbing loud and unspoken. The metal tray shook in Bitty’s hands.    Jack opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He closed his mouth again, frowned, thought about it. Jack had never been one to say a lot, but each word was usually carefully thought out and selected. Bitty waited, expecting something insightful and meaningful. Jack opened his mouth, closed it, frowned again and thought some more.     Greg made them both jump. He was never quiet or graceful and strode in to the kitchen with a booming voice. He was half drunk, grinning at them and calling back to the others as he filled his glass, stole a mini tart and gave Bitty a swift peck on the cheek. He left almost as quickly as he appeared, but the moment was ruined. Jack gave him a stiff nod and retreated to the living room having clearly lost his nerve.     Bitty slammed the hot tray down onto the marble counter, feeling like he’d missed the train again.   31st December 2019     Tonight, Bitty was going to get drunk. He knew it was silly and immature, but these last few months had been stressful and depressing. He felt like he deserved to let loose and get messy and see off the year in style. A lot of things had happened this winter, including a promotion, Shitty and Lardo’s engagement, and his and Greg’s breakup. He hadn’t been angry or surprised, just disappointed. Greg wasn’t Jack, after all.     Jack wouldn’t be attending the party. He’d had a string of games and a long roadie over the last couple of days and wouldn’t be making it back to Providence until past eleven pm. Bitty knew that Jack would head straight to bed rather than get changed and drag himself to a loud and crowded bar after all of his travelling, and Bitty couldn’t blame him. The season had started off rough, and Jack hadn’t much time for anything in between practicing, playing, resting and all of his extra-curricular events.     Bitty knew this, but couldn’t help feeling frustrated. He’d tried to reach out, especially after his breakup, but Jack felt distant now and Bitty didn’t know how to bridge the gap. He didn’t have the energy anymore. He decided that if Jack was interested in preserving their friendship, it was his turn to make the effort. Bitty wasn’t holding his breath.     It was a fun party. It was the same LGBT+ friendly bar they went to two years ago, and Bitty felt an affinity for it. It almost felt like déjà vu, and if Bitty tried hard enough, he could almost imagine Jack sitting in his corner and nursing his beer. He wouldn’t though, he was done with torturing himself over Jack Zimmermann. He threw himself into the moment instead, filing to memory the song that was playing, the way he felt shimmying to the music, the sight of Lardo’s glittery red lipstick, the smell of Holster’s cheap cologne, the taste of Jägermeister on his tongue.     His phone buzzed at some point, but he ignored it. It buzzed a couple more times and he ignored it again, wanting to switch off from everything that wasn’t this party and this drink in his hand. Midnight was drawing closer, and he was sober enough to be aware of the heavy feeling in his chest. He watched Shitty and Lardo and Ransom and Holster dancing together and all of the other people surrounding him, and he never felt more alone. He suddenly started to wish he was anywhere but there. He wanted to be wherever Jack was.     But Jack wasn’t here. Instead there were dozens of good looking, charming boys dancing around him. A few had tried to catch his eye, and he knew he would have no problem finding someone to dance with. And if they so happened to share a kiss when the clock struck twelve, then where was the crime in that? Just a kiss, on New Year’s Eve, between two consenting adults. No big deal.     The man whose arms he fell into just happened to be tall, and dark, and blue eyed. Maybe he had a type. He didn’t look much like Jack, but if he thought hard he could just feel Jack’s hands on his hips. He looked hard at the boy’s face, trying to imagine Jack in the high cheekbones and full lips. He shook his head, wafting away the daze. That was stupid, he couldn’t keep doing this to himself.     He looked away, but he was starting to see Jack everywhere. A man by the bar had the same jacket. Another guy on the dance floor had the same awkward dance steps. A boy waiting by the toilets had a similar smile. His eyes drifted toward the door and even saw Jack standing there, a single flower in his hands and watching him. But it wasn’t real. None of these men were Jack.     Bitty turned back to the one in his arms and waited for midnight.   31st December 2019     Jack was done waiting. He was tired of letting everything else dictate his life for him. Ever since he was born he felt like the universe had already decided what was going to happen to him. The Q, the overdose, rebuilding his career from the ground up. He couldn’t choose his team. There was only one in the AHL who wanted to set him on after the scandal. He was forever grateful, but it wasn’t something he could choose. He’d worked damn hard to get where he was today. An NHL team, a captaincy and two Stanley Cups under his belt.     The last time he made a decision for himself he ended up nearly killing himself. Even now, he was worried that choosing something for himself could ruin everything. So, he waited. He let people walk in and out of his life as they saw fit. He allowed situations to happen to him, never fighting them or questioning them. It was just the universe deciding for him and he was in no position to try and take control.     Until now.     Jack stood in the doorway of the bar, watching Bitty dancing with another man. He turned the flower around in his hands. It was the same kind he’d bought for Bitty on his birthday a year and a half ago. It was a little cheesy maybe, but he had known Bitty would like it. He’d texted, letting him know he was on his way, but Bitty had never seen the messages. Bitty clearly had different things on his mind. And the old Jack would have turned away, deciding it was just what fate had decided for them, just like always.     But not this Jack.     This Jack was tired and in love. He strode forward, pushing his way past the various bodies towards the dance floor. Bitty’s eyes had drifted over him like he hadn’t realised Jack was really there. Jack couldn’t really blame him. He hadn’t been there, not recently. He’d been caught up in the start of the season, dealing with his own break up, torn between wanting to give Bitty space or comfort him after his. It had been a hard few months for both of them. Jack figured it was time to make it better.     He grabbed Bitty’s arm and pulled him around, ignoring the guy he was dancing with as he protested. Bitty opened his mouth to tell him off, but they were both momentarily stunned as they stared at each other. Bitty was shocked to see him, but Jack was stunned yet again by just how beautiful this boy was. And he was going to have him. He was going to take matters into his own hands.     He’d rehearsed a speech in the car, but the words left his brain. He suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say. He didn’t know how to explain what he was thinking or feeling and awkwardly fumbled. Bitty watched and waited with a familiar patience. Bitty never rushed him. Bitty always knew that each word needed time and thought. But still, the words wouldn’t come. Instead, Jack dumbly held out the flower and hoped that would be enough.     It was.     As the people around them started to chant a countdown, Bitty and Jack stepped forward. No more running away. No more making excuses. No more letting opportunities pass them by. Bitty jumped on the train. Jack took control. They couldn’t help but laugh, gazing at each other like they were the only two people in the world. The clock struck twelve.     “Happy New Year, Bits.”     “Happy New Year, Jack.”     They kissed. The End Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :) thank you for the notes and the kudos and comments this year - I appreciate every single one of them. For those of you interested - Jack’s mysterious partner was intended to be Kent, but I deliberately left it ambiguous so choose your own!

This was posted for the Swawesome Santa 2018 event and gifted to Loveyoutoobits.

[leroyamyterry-blog]

350 Smart Sneaker Will Require Regular Recharging

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The Infinix Smart 3 Plus is one of the most affordable phones to offer triple rear cameras, pairing it with an appealing design and an all day battery life. Google was also seen promoting false links when people searched for keywords like 'final election count'. I was trying to picture him picking up a pan, and I can't see it. Google has denied claims of deliberate political bias, and fake yeezys for kidsevidence supporting the allegation is scant, but Texas leaders have raised the possibility that they could probe the company for the matter.. Ralphie Boy, of Hialeah, was once a rising star in the Republican Party. Jusqu'ici la crise semblait pargner la planification de ses vacances pour la majorit des Franais, sachant que nous continuons d'observer comme chaque anne une proportion importante de foyers franais qui ne partent tout simplement pas en vacances l't. That's why I let a big sigh of relief go at the end.. 17,400). 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[sargenthouse]

Earth Premiere "The Mandrake's Hymn" & Interview / Guitar.com

via guitar.com

Earth’s trajectory is not so much of an orbit as it is a deviation. For the past three decades, the only constant for the band headed by Dylan Carlson has been change – which is ironic for a group whose music relies heavily upon repetition.

Earth started out with ground-shaking seismic drone metal on 1993’s Earth 2, then took a left turn in 2005 into the arid West with the Morricone-inspired Hex; Or Printing In The Infernal Method. Almost a decade later, they ventured into meditative rock with Primitive And Deadly.

Now, the band have purged themselves of any embellishments, stripping instrumentation down to Carlson on guitar and bass and Adrienne Davies on drums and percussion. The upcoming record, Full Upon Her Burning Lips, is a lesson in austerity, and spotlights the duo’s sonic symbiosis.

Ahead of the release, we speak with Carlson about the record, his fascination with Telecaster pickups and his favourite collaborations thus far.

Dylan Carlson (left) and Adrienne Davies of Earth

The new album sees Earth stripped down to the core duo of you and Adrienne Davies. Can you shed more light on this decision?

Well, I’ve been playing with Adrienne for almost 20 years now, and on previous albums, I’ve been fortunate enough to play with a lot of amazing players, but I really wanted this album to focus on the two main members at this point. Just because we really haven’t done that since, probably, Hex; Or Printing In The Infernal Method.

I also felt like live drums have always been a big part of what Earth does, but that has never come across as fully on record. You know, because when you’re recording a bunch of different instruments, you need to leave room for stuff, and I always felt like the drums didn’t show the full potential that Adrienne’s capable of.

And then also, I’ve always sort of been the guy that holds everything down with my guitar and let a lot of other instruments carry the melodic work – whether it’s cello or keys or stuff like that. So I sort of wanted it to just be the two of us showing off the best of our abilities.

The previous records, they’ve all been very lush sounding and I wanted this one to be very present and dry, and upfront. Using the 70s style, you know, where I was running two amps for the basics and hard panning guitars left and right – the kind of stuff that you just don’t really hear any more on record.

Can you tell us a little more about the title Full Upon Her Burning Lips?

I’m always trying to find titles that I feel are numinous and open to multiple interpretations. Many of them, I don’t necessarily see and people tell me about them later. Like someone recently asked if [the title] was about the moon because of the “full upon” bit – which I hadn’t thought of.

I feel like music is a sensual and sensuous experience, so I wanted a title that could evoke that. Originally, the cover idea I had for Primitive And Deadly was going to be much sexier than it turned out. I was sort of on a Scorpions jag at the time [laughs]. I think a lot of music now is missing that element. There’s so much music that’s hyper-male. To me, Metallica is a perfect example – nothing in their music or lyrics reflect the idea that there’s a feminine principle to the universe. So, I guess that’s where it came from.

You mentioned in a statement that you like the “limiting of materials to force oneself to employ even more creatively”. How did that reflect in terms of guitar tone for this album?

For this one I basically used a limited number of effects. I used my live rig, which was like a compressor, an overdrive, a Uni-Vibe and a delay. I mean I used one other overdrive for some cleaner textures and an auto wah on one track, but I pretty much tried to limit it to just the pedals that I use live.

I tried to get the most out of them. For example, I’ve used the Uni-Vibe for a long time, but I’ve always just used the vibrato setting. I never thought the chorus was very useful, and then on this album, I figured out a bunch of really cool sounds with that setting. So that was fun to use in a different way than I normally do.

Image: Sean Stout

A lot of artists tend to compose instrumental music around tension and release. Is that an approach that you take as well?

I guess so, but I don’t know if it’s a conscious one. I feel like all songs should have some kind of arc – I call it a “narrative arc”. Although [with instrumental music] it’s very loose, as there’s obviously not any lyrics telling you what the story is. I sort of – in this very abstract sense – feel like songs and albums should still have a narrative arc. And I hope we convey that in the way that I put stuff together.

Again, it’s a sort of an abstract notion of a narrative, but you know, a song should start somewhere and then go somewhere, in some sort of rudimentary sense. I think that’s why, with instrumental music, the song titles become important. It’s the only way of conveying some kind of narrative with language.

I feel like music is a language in and of itself, and [communicates] in a different way. Music is simultaneously more immediate and more abstract in its meaning. With instrumental music, the audience is also participating in the creation of the meaning or the narrative or the imagery.

It’s not like songs with lyrics where it’s like “Oh my baby left me” or whatever. With instrumental music, it’s more challenging.

This album has a lot of minimalism and repetition. How do you make repetitions sound like progression to the listener?

With repetitive music especially, be it like the riff or the melody or whatever, it should be something that you want to hear again. So I think crafting really memorable riffs is key. They should be something that you want to hear again, and the riffs themselves should have some kind of arc to them as well – so that you’re getting mini arcs that build up to a bigger arc.

That’s one thing I’m constantly trying to do. When I come up with a riff it’s like “Oh, is this something like worth repeating?” There’s that thing that great riffs have where they make you want to hear them again. Whether they’re catchy or whatever, I feel like they should be strong enough – and interesting enough – that they bear repetition.

Image: Holly Carlson

Folklore is a major theme of this album, as it is with much of your work. What draws you to it?

To me, with the music I make, I want it to be timeless and feel like it’s always been there. Folklore has stories and knowledge that have been around forever, transcending cultures. I also feel like, especially with rock music – for lack of a better term – and American music, are all originally from folk sources. You know, blues, jazz, country, rock ’n’ roll – the music is not “high culture”. It’s not like classical music in that it wasn’t created by rich people for other rich people.

It’s popular music from the people, embedded in the salt of the earth, and it’s the same with folklore. It’s interesting and it’s numinous. It’s got a quality of timelessness, like something that’s always been there and that goes along with what I try to do hopefully musically.

Has your gear changed much over the years?

Yeah, I would say so. When I first came back to guitar playing, I hadn’t had a guitar for at least four years. So when I came back to guitar in 2001 or 2002, I was really into gear and was always buying petals. I guess you could call it GAS. But along the way, I realised that it didn’t really matter what I played, it was going to be me like regardless. And so I got a lot less gear-obsessed.

I like gear obviously – I mean, I love guitar – and I’ve found things that allow me to translate what’s in my head better, but I don’t feel like they’re necessary. I’m going to sound like me regardless of what I’m given. I think a lot of people are always looking for that “magic box” or this amp or that amp. At the end of the day, it’s you, you know?

The gear I do get now, I get it because I like how it sounds – which is the most important thing – and then whether it’s functional and helps me with touring. Number one is the sound and number two is functionality and whether it makes my life easier. Those are sort of two of my guiding principles.

Right now I play my live rig which I’m very happy with because I discovered these Trace Elliot Elfs, 200-watt heads that weigh like a pound – I’ve got two of those. And then one has a 1×12 Dietz cab, which I love. The Jesus Lizard guys use them, and Buzz [Osborne] has one. I didn’t know about them before, I was just in Austin and I needed a cab. Yeah, it weighs a shit-tonne, but that’s the only downside to it. It’s got wheels, but it’s a little monster. Then for the other one, I have a 1×12 Mesa cab that’s semi-open.

And then I recorded the album with and did my solo tour with a Burman – it’s a British amp from the early 70s. They were a company out of Newcastle and they basically built these 100-watt power amps called the “Slaves” which ran for either KT66s or EL34s – mine’s got EL34s – and then they did various preamp modules. So they were kind of ahead of the curve, in a certain way.

Image: Sean Stout

You’ve obviously played a lot of guitars over the years. Do you have any favourites?

Yeah, my favourite guitar is the one my wife Holly bought. It has an alder Strat body, and then we had our friend, this artist Jason Borders, carve and stain it. It has no finish. It’s got a Fender neck, the classic player one, with a 12-inch radius pau ferro fretboard, and then I’ve got a brass tremolo. I love brass, I’ve had brass on pretty much all of my guitars that I can. This guitar’s also got a brass bridge and a brass nut.

And then I’ve been running a DiMarzio Fast Track Tele bridge pickup, DiMarzio Cruiser in the middle position, and a DiMarzio Air Classic in the neck. I’m a big DiMarzio fanboy, as you can tell [laughs].

Oh, and this guitar has a little thing called the StratoBlaster which was made by Alembic. It’s a little boost switch – I have mine set for about plus 7- or 8dB, but you can go all the way to 14dB. That’s nice if you want a little bit of oomph.

I have a Tele, it was one of the Roadworn ones which I guess came out in the mid-2000s. That’s got a DiMarzio Tone Zone Tele bridge and a Seymour Duncan Little ‘59 in the neck.

In Europe, I have two guitars that live in a warehouse. I have an Epiphone SG. That one’s got a DiMarzio Tone Zone Tele bridge pickup and a Super Distortion in the neck. I was in a big Jerry Garcia phase then so I got a OBEL (or On-Board Effects Loop) on it, although I very rarely used it [laughs]. And the other’s an Epiphone Explorer that has a DiMarzio Super Distortion Tele bridge pickup. I basically put Tele Bridge pickups in all my guitars.

Some of my guitars have names. Like my favourite one – the Strat or Hollycaster – I call “The Fox”. Tele is “The Cat” and the SG is “The Goddess” because it has a big sticker of Tara Guanyin on it.

Image: Sean Stout

Do you achieve noise through the amps?

I use a lot of gain. Well, maybe not a lot of gain but I push the amps with the compressor and overdrive. With the 200-watt headroom, you’re not going to make it break up, so the tone is really a combination of pickups, overdrive and my hands. It’s not the amp. Same with the Burman – it’s a 100-watt – so the headroom’s massive.

If I’m playing a smaller tube amp, like when I had a 50-watt Plexi for a while, I didn’t use overdrive. I just hit the front end hard with the compressor. That was still like, loud as fuck. Over the years, I’ve come to understand headroom and the fact that no one really needs anything more than 50 watts. Even that is overkill, really, for most venues. Back in Earth 2 days, when I didn’t know any better, and I was young and could lug a shit-tonne of gear, it was like, “Oh yeah, let’s have, all this ridiculous amount of equipment!”. Back then most soundmen didn’t even bother mic-ing us, you know? Now I understand to let the PA do the heavy lifting.

I understand we all grew up on the cool pictures of [Jimi] Hendrix in front of a wall of Marshalls. But there were no PAs and they were playing outdoors half the time. Of course, you need like 25 Marshalls or whatever! It was a different time, with a 100-watt head now you’re never going to get to that sweet spot at a volume that’s not going to kill people.

Let’s talk about collaborations for just a second. What would you say has been your best experience so far?

Well, I love working with Kevin [Martin, aka The Bug]. It’s a whole different world than the one I am used to inhabiting. So it’s very fun for me in that way because I just get to be the guitar player and be creative.

I also love Emma [Ruth Rundle]. I think she’s an amazing musician and a wonderful human being, so that was enjoyable. And with Maddy Prior, that was super because obviously I was really into English folk. Yeah, so getting to meet an OG [laughs] and she was a lovely, lovely woman and really easy to work with. She had written a song and asked me to play guitar on it and I got to just come in and do it.

They’re all incredibly talented and really lovely people, so they’ve all been a real pleasure to work with.

What was recording Concrete Desert like? Would you do something like that again?

Yeah, I’ve been talking to Kevin about it! [Concrete Desert] was our very first collaboration, and he basically sent me the tracks and I played guitar and sent them back. So we actually hadn’t even met in person at that point. I actually just ran into him in on the street in Krakow because we were both playing the same festival.

Then Ninja Tune wanted us to play this anniversary party in LA together, and he had this material and was like, “Hey, why don’t we do this again?” and we were actually in the studio together for a couple days. I mean, he’d already generated much of the material but then after I put my guitar on, he went back and changed it a bunch. He told me he got new ideas from the guitar parts and kinda tweaked it.

But yeah, hopefully the next time we work together we can do it with both of us in the studio, building stuff from the ground up. I don’t know when that’ll happen, but we definitely want to do something together again.

Are there any other guitarists you feel are pushing the instrument to the bleeding edge?

I think Oren Ambarchi is pretty amazing. There’s probably some guys I’m not aware of, but I know Oren and think he’s a pretty good dude. I’m a rock dude and like the fact that he still manages to inject rock into [his music] in some weird way, like with that album he did with the Ace Frehley cover, for example. I think he’s got a lot of swagger to it that others don’t have.

The Rig

Main Guitar: The Fox aka Hollycaster (see above for details)

Amp: Live – 2 x Trace Elliot ‘Elf’ heads (200w solid state) each with 1×12 cab (a Dietz and a Mesa). Recording – Early 70s Burman (100w power amp w/ EL-34s) and a pre-amp module and a DV Mark Micro 50 (50w solid state)

Effects: MXR Custom Comp, MXR Shin-juku Drive, Dunlop Uni-Vibe chorus/vibrato, Dunlop Echoplex Delay, Korg Pitchblack tuner (1st version)

Strings/Accessories: Dunlop Performance Plus Nickel .09-.42, Dunlop Primetone 3mm picks and various other Dunlop picks all around 2mm

Full Upon Her Burning Lips is out 24 May. More information at thronesanddominions.com.

[reomanet]

Remembering the Howard University Librarian Who Decolonized the Way Books Were Catalogued

Remembering the Howard University Librarian Who Decolonized the Way Books Were Catalogued

Remembering the Howard University Librarian Who Decolonized the Way Books Were Catalogued Dorothy Porter challenged the racial bias in the Dewey Decimal System, putting black scholars alongside white colleagues Dorothy Porter in 1939, at her desk in the Carnegie Library at Howard University. (Moorland-Spingarn Research Center, Manuscript Division, Howard University) smithsonian.com November 26, 2018 In a 1995 interview with Linton Weeks of the Washington Post , the Howard University librarian, collector and self-described “bibliomaniac” Dorothy Porter reflected on the focus of her 43-year career: “The only rewarding thing for me is to bring to light information that no one knows. What’s the point of rehashing the same old thing?” For Porter, this mission involved not only collecting and preserving a wide range of materials related to the global black experience, but also addressing how these works demanded new and specific qualitative and quantitative approaches in order to collect, assess, and catalog them. As some librarians today contemplate ways to decolonize libraries—for example, to make them less reflective of Eurocentric ways of organizing knowledge—it is instructive to look to Porter as a progenitor of the movement. Starting with little, she used her tenacious curiosity to build one of the world’s leading repositories for black history and culture: Howard’s Moorland-Spingarn Research Center . But she also brought critical acumen to bear on the way the center’s materials were cataloged, rejecting commonly taught methods as too reflective of the way whites thought of the world. Working without a large budget, Porter used unconventional means to build the research center. She developed relationships with other book lovers and remained alert to any opportunity to acquire material. As Porter told Avril Johnson Madison in an oral history interview, “I think one of the best things I could have done was to become friends with book dealers… . I had no money, but I became friendly with them. I got their catalogs, and I remember many of them giving me books, you see. I appealed to publishers, ‘We have no money, but will you give us this book?’” Porter’s network extended to Brazil, England, France, Mexico—anywhere that she or one of her friends, including Alain Locke, Rayford Logan, Dorothy Peterson, Langston Hughes and Amy Spingarn, would travel. She also introduced to Howard leading figures like the historian Edison Carneiro of Brazil and pan-Africanist philosophers and statesmen Kwame Nkrumah and Eric Williams. As early as 1930, when she was appointed, Porter insisted that bringing Africana scholars and their works to campus was crucial not only to counter Eurocentric notions about blacks but also because, as she told Madison, “at that time . . . students weren’t interested in their African heritage. They weren’t interested in Africa or the Caribbean. They were really more interested in being like the white person.” Howard’s initial collections, which focused mainly on slavery and abolitionism, were substantially expanded through the 1915 gift of over 3,000 items from the personal library of the Reverend Jesse E. Moorland, a Howard alumnus and secretary of the Washington, DC, branch of the YMCA. In 1946, the university acquired the private library of Arthur B. Spingarn, a lawyer and longtime chair of the NAACP’s legal committee, as well as a confirmed bibliophile. He was particularly interested in the global black experience, and his collection included works by and about Black people in the Caribbean and South and Central America; rare materials in Latin from the early modern period; and works in Portuguese, Spanish, French, German, and many African languages, including Swahili, Kikuyu, Zulu, Yoruba, Vai, Ewe, Luganda, Ga, Sotho, Amharic, Hausa, Xhosa, and Luo. These two acquisitions formed the backbone of the Moorland-Spingarn collections. Porter was concerned about assigning value to the materials she collected—their intellectual and political value, certainly, but also their monetary value, since at the time other libraries had no expertise in pricing works by black authors. When Spingarn agreed to sell his collection to Howard, the university’s treasurer insisted that it be appraised externally. Since he did not want to rely on her assessment, Porter explained in her oral history, she turned to the Library of Congress’s appraiser. The appraiser took one look and said, “I cannot evaluate the collection. I do not know anything about black books. Will you write the report? . . . I’ll send it back to the treasurer.” The treasurer, thinking it the work of a white colleague, accepted it. This was not the only time that Porter had to create a workaround for a collection so as not to re-impose stereotyped ideas of black culture and Black scholarship. As Thomas C. Battle writes in a 1988 essay on the history of the Moorland-Spingarn Research Center, the breadth of the two collections showed the Howard librarians that “no American library had a suitable classification scheme for Black materials.” An “initial development of a satisfactory classification scheme,” writes Battle, was first undertaken by four women on the staff of the Howard University Library: Lula V. Allen, Edith Brown, Lula E. Conner and Rosa C. Hershaw. The idea was to prioritize the scholarly and intellectual significance and coherence of materials that had been marginalized by Eurocentric conceptions of knowledge and knowledge production. These women paved the way for Dorothy Porter’s new system, which departed from the prevailing catalog classifications in important ways. All of the libraries that Porter consulted for guidance relied on the Dewey Decimal Classification. “Now in [that] system, they had one number—326—that meant slavery, and they had one other number—325, as I recall it—that meant colonization,” she explained in her oral history. In many “white libraries,” she continued, “every book, whether it was a book of poems by James Weldon Johnson, who everyone knew was a black poet, went under 325. And that was stupid to me.” Consequently, instead of using the Dewey system, Porter classified works by genre and author to highlight the foundational role of black people in all subject areas, which she identified as art, anthropology, communications, demography, economics, education, geography, history, health, international relations, linguistics, literature, medicine, music, political science, sociology, sports, and religion. This Africana approach to cataloging was very much in line with the priorities of the Harlem Renaissance, as described by Howard University professor Alain Locke in his period-defining essay of 1925, “ Enter the New Negro .” Heralding the death of the “Old Negro” as an object of study and a problem for whites to manage, Locke proclaimed, “It is time to scrap the fictions, garret the bogeys and settle down to a realistic facing of facts.” Scholarship from a black perspective, Locke argued, would combat racist stereotypes and false narratives while celebrating the advent of black self-representation in art and politics. Porter’s classification system challenged racism where it was produced by centering work by and about black people within scholarly conversations around the world. The multi-lingual Porter, furthermore, anticipated an important current direction in African-American and African Diaspora studies: analyzing global circuits and historical entanglements and seeking to recover understudied archives throughout the world. In Porter’s spirit, this current work combats the effects of segmenting research on Black people along lines of nation and language, and it fights the gatekeeping function of many colonial archives. The results of Porter’s ambitions include rare and unusual items. The Howard music collections contain compositions by the likes of Antônio Carlos Gomes and José Mauricio Nunes Garcia of Brazil; Justin Elie of Haiti; Amadeo Roldán of Cuba; and Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges of Guadeloupe. The linguistics subject area includes a character chart created by Thomas Narven Lewis, a Liberian medical doctor, who adapted the basic script of the Bassa language into one that could be accommodated by a printing machine. (This project threatened British authorities in Liberia, who had authorized only the English language to be taught in an attempt to quell anti-colonial activism.) Among the works available in African languages is the rare Otieno Jarieko , an illustrated book on sustainable agriculture by Barack H. Obama, father of the former U.S. president. Porter must be acknowledged for her efforts to address the marginalization of writing by and about black people through her revision of the Dewey system as well as for her promotion of those writings though a collection at an institution dedicated to highlighting its value by showing the centrality of that knowledge to all fields. Porter’s groundbreaking work provides a crucial backdrop for the work of contemporary scholars who explore the aftereffects of the segregation of knowledge through projects that decolonize, repatriate and redefine historical archives.

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[unibirmingham]

What to pack (and what not to pack) for University!

COMING to university can be a scary time - from meeting new people to starting a whole new stage in your academic career, there’s loads to think about! On top of that you have to remember all of the little things to bring with you to make sure the transition to student life is as smooth as possible . . . But don’t worry! Here’s a list of some of the smaller things you may have overlooked whilst packing!

Important information

Passport/ photo ID

Yes, you have your student ID (if you don’t you can pick yours up from our welcome marquees during welcome weekend!) but a government-issued photo ID will allow you to do all kinds of things - from applying to jobs to going out in the evenings.

Student discount cards

Cards like your NUS card or your 16-25 railcard are vital to living the frugal student lifestyle, they’ll make eating out, shopping and traveling around so much cheaper - when UoB has our very own train station, why not make the most of it?

Proof of address

Think bank statements – having proof of your home address can be really helpful if you want to apply for jobs or get a library card at the city library (if 2 million books in the university library isn’t quite enough for you!)

Electricals

Extension leads to make the most of the plug sockets in your room.

A memory stick to keep all of your important documents safe and avoid a last minute essay-panic – SAVE your drafts, just do it.

International Adaptors if you’re coming from abroad so you can charge your devices as soon as you get here.

Kitchen

Plastic food containers so you can make huge pots of pasta and save the rest for later.

Stock cupboard essentials pasta, rice, tinned tomatoes, spices so you don’t have to rush to the supermarket the moment you arrive – even if you’re in one of our catered accommodations it could be helpful to have a few bits and bobs around in case you’re not ready to embrace the pyjamas-are-most-definitely-for-popping-to-the-local-shop lifestyle yet.

Washing up liquid so you don’t get a quick build-up of dirty pots and pans.

Do not bring a toaster/ kettle/ sandwich press unless you’ve spoken to your housemates first - otherwise you’ll end up with a pile of six kettles you have no idea what to do with! Find your flatmates via our Facebook New Starters group  to speak to them in advance and organise who is happy to bring what and share out the load.

Image: @lydia_uoileh

Bedroom

Duvet and bed linen so you don’t have a very cold first night. Also bring a mattress protector to make your bed as comfortable as possible.

Coat Hangers so you have somewhere to put all of your clothes.

Decorations so your room can feel more like home – pictures of family and friends, extra blankets and cushions, ornaments, and souvenirs can all make your room feel cosier and help if you start to feel homesick. Now take a photo and share it with the University’s social media channels!

Image: @nuala_gallagher

Clothing

A winter coat as winter will come around quickly once term has begun.

A smart outfit or two that you can wear for job interviews, networking events or society balls.

Gym kit, you might as well act like you’re going to work out, you never know, it might actually happen!

Some versatile fancy dress bits that you can use again and again.

Stationery

Post-it notes so you can write greetings messages to your flatmates – sometimes it can be easier to introduce yourself with a friendly message to break the ice, especially if you’re feeling nervous.

A folder so you can start to organise your notes from introductory lectures as soon as you start.

White Tack so you can stick all those photos you brought on your wall!

Image: @ciciiicik

Others

An umbrella to protect yourself from the unpredictable British weather.

A water bottle and thermos so you can save money on drinks whilst also saving plastic.

Toiletries and medicine such as painkillers and vitamin C tablets to help ward off fresher’s flu (even though that’s impossible, you almost certainly will fall victim within the first month or so!)

Toilet paper because an awkward bathroom trip is possibly the worst way to make a first impression!

Just make sure you bring your sense of adventure with a healthy sprinkle of enthusiasm and you can’t go too far wrong! 

We can’t wait for you to get here!

[eternalloveheart]

Morality: God or man?

I started reading the book “What if the bible never existed” by Dr Kennedy. He explores the importance of the bible by its impact on the world. I am only a few chapters in so far just wanting to bring out my thoughts and the quotes I pulled that made me think. I am pretty much summarizing my take on the points of the first few chapters. I will be making more posts on this book with different points. I know this is a blog so I am not making this into some kind of academic essay just posting the aftermath of my reading.

God or man’s?

There are many reasons we cannot officially have a moral code without God. One main “reason you can’t have morality without religion is not that can’t draw up a common code of ethics. It is that without an external authority, most people will not follow it. Now, I will grant that the humanists have drawn up a code, and they have gotten some people to follow it” (Dr Kennedy, page 435).

Brute force

It seems one of the easiest successful ways to get people to conform to a set of moral rules is by religion. A main problem is being human we know that everyone is capable of just as much evil as us if not more with no true claim to some high ground. I have personally asked some atheists how one might go about ensuring morality with those who do not agree with them such as sociopaths who have no empathetic compass. I explained that religion has helped a sociopath namely David Wood turn from his murderous ways to live a life for God. I wait attentively for a response only to hear the atheist respond with the words “brute force”.

It is difficult to use of brute force as it often leads to tyranny and rebellions. I am taking a policing course where we overview policing history. History shows it only aggravates the people further when more force was involved such as military intervention. It went against the human desire for a decent amount of liberties and rights (which even a sociopath would desire). In the Journal of Criminal Law, Criminology, and Police Science, Vol. 55 by J. L Lyman from the Northwest university of Law there is a review of historical mistakes using force against one’s citizens. In the journal it mentions the way the law enforcement was so hated it was inefficient in stopping crime which in turn had crime running more rampant. The journal states that “by 1828 one person in every three hundred and eighty-three was a criminal” in London. The method of “brute force” had worsened the situation as it never got to the core of the problem.

Reasoning

I assume not everyone would have immediately jumped to “brute force”. I think some may have even thought of just reasoning with people. I mean someone has to be able to convince if not through force or empathy that one should dogmatically follow a moral code. I do not just mean sociopaths I include anyone with opposing views of morality. I have to concede everyone has their own views of morality whether right or wrong.

In recent times “the president of the Yale University in a meeting of university professor and educators. He said that we need a new renaissance of education and morality in American colleges. You would think he would have been applauded. But he was booed! They hissed. They asked ‘Whose morality, professor, are you going to impose upon them?” He couldn’t answer the question (Dr. Kennedy, page 482). His ideas might have been the most perfect ideas in the world. It did not matter because no matter how perfect his moral is the human heart is just so full of its own evil. It will not listen to reasoning because it does not care for reasoning based upon their own moral reasoning.

So what if he got a chance to speak would anyone have listened? No one cares what anyone or any group claims is moral. “Charles Darwin knew this. He said it was a horrid thought to realize that all of his speech may have no more significance or meaning than the babbling of a monkey. He said, ‘Would anyone trust the conviction of a monkey’s mind, if there are any convictions in such a mind?” (Dr. Kennedy, page 506).

It is a hard pill to swallow to admit only God is righteous enough, powerful enough, efficient enough, knowledgeable enough, loving enough and so on to sustain a moral code. God even offers this moral code yet again to those who have broken it with a renewing of his mercies.

Born in sin

So if God is so great why is not everyone just following Him? The heart being born in sin wants to refuse the law for himself and have the laws imposed on others. It is where hypocrisy and double standards arise. I mean having the mental capacity to measure fairness and justice while having fleshly overruling savagery sins.

“Huxley was the most prestigious evolutionary scientist in the world at the time. The interviewer asked him, “Why do you think that evolution caught on so quickly?” Huxley began, “We all jumped at The Origin [The Origin of the Species by Charles Darwin] because . . .” Now if you ask a high school science class to finish that sentence, what do you think the students would say? They would say, “The reason we jumped at The Origin of Species was that the evidence amassed by Darwin was so intellectually compelling that scientific integrity required that we accept it as fact.” That is not what Huxley said. Rather, I heard him say, “[ I suppose the reason] we all jumped at The Origin [was] because the idea of God interfered with our sexual mores.” I almost fell out of my chair! What does that have to do with science? (Dr. Kennedy, page 692).

It seems like the same problem all over again with no one caring about absolute morality when they care too much for their own morality. This time it is different when we peak behind the veil. God makes a promise to those who seek Him diligently in Ezekiel. Ezekiel 36:26-28 A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh. And I will put my spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes, and ye shall keep my judgments, and do them. And ye shall dwell in the land that I gave to your fathers; and ye shall be my people, and I will be your God.

Change

Before we go any further we must consider historical ways people have tried to impose change in the human heart. I know not all have tried “brute” force or “reasoning”. I must admit some have tried changing the environment to help people flourish into their best selves with the hope of fostering perfect peaceful moral.

Many people have been convinced the heart can be changed apart from divine intervention with environmental remodeling. The communists thought they were going to create the “new communist man” without religion. Karl Marx the intellectual founder of communism found his ideas to be the key to solve the mankind’s predicament proclaiming this as the “true solution”. It is no wonder they prohibited ministers from preaching heaven when they had ushered it in prenatally. He thought man was pretty good inside just corrupted by his environmental structures. I have read some books on communism the dream does not pan out.

The communist plan instead of thriving the fruit of good people had made room for a greater evil as “Marxism did produce a new Communist man—a man so cruel that he could commit the most barbaric crimes against his fellow human beings without the slightest qualms of conscience. When we become aware of what took place in the ghastly labor camps, or gulags, we can understand the nature of the new Communist man, perhaps the cruelest man the world has ever seen” (Dr. Kenny, page 811).

“An example of Communist torture occurred just within the last few years. Two Christian women were being punished by the Chinese authorities for the “crime” of being a part of the unregistered house church movement. They were stripped naked, hung up by their thumbs with wires, and beaten unconscious with cattle prods. The system Marx helped create—based on a false paradigm, which was itself based on a false picture of man’s true nature—has probably caused more evil than any system known to man” (Dr. Kennedy, page 821).

In the West “we are told, the new man will be fashioned by psychology and psychiatry. Before you become too excited about that possibility, remember that of all of the professions in America, the highest level of suicide is found in psychiatrists. So if you are contemplating such an act, I don’t recommend that you go see one. He might decide to hold your hand and jump first” (Dr. Kennedy, page 854). I have run into some issues with psychologists lately as I have been told by numerous friends their psychologists think they are beyond help. I almost think that should be illegal to tell a patient because these vulnerable people will remember this every time they reach another low. I can see how a self-fulfilling prophesy could take into effect.

Testimonies

The bible has changed many lives for the better helping people turn a new leaf. It is because being born again is gives a person a new heart and spirit with new desires. God promises to give people a new heart so is there any evidence of this change?

The same power that raised Jesus Christ from the dead still has the power to change a person to this day. “No unbeliever could tell me why His words are as charged with power today as they were nineteen hundred years ago. Nor could scoffers explain how those pierced hands pulled human monsters with gnarled souls out of a hell of iniquity and overnight transformed them into steadfast, glorious heroes [of the cross]” (Dr. Kennedy, page 936).

Kwai

There is a movie called “The bridge over the River Kwai” based on the book called “Through the Valley of Kwai”. The author of the book had spoken to the chaplain man of Princeton University who had been part of British forces. He was the very man that had written “The bridge over the River of Kwai”. “He told [him], heartbrokenly, what Hollywood had done to the truth. Here is the real story of the bridge over the River Kwai. The captives had been reduced to savagery. They were starving. They were snapping for every crust of bread like animals. And then the British commander discovered in one of their backpacks a New Testament. He began to read it. As he read it, the wonder of the love of Christ began to fill his soul, and he surrendered his life to the Savior and called on Him for His grace and help. He was transformed. He began to read that New Testament to his men each day. One after another became transformed until virtually the entire camp was transformed by the gospel of Christ. These animal-like men began to save their crusts of bread to give to those who were weaker and sicker than they were” (Dr Kennedy, page 897).

Joad

It is often easy to believe mankind is mostly good when one is living safely in a first world country founded on Christian foundations (which is further elaborated in later chapters). “C. E. M. Joad was one of the great philosophers of England in this century. He was a brilliant intellect and a militant unbeliever. [...] Earlier he had thought that man was basically good and that, given the right conditions, we could create heaven on earth. But two devastating world wars and the threat of another one brought home to him the reality that man is sinful. The only solution to man’s sin, concluded this former skeptic, is the cross of Jesus Christ” (Dr. Kennedy, page 957).

David wood

Note: the pages may not be exact though they are within the range of the found text. It is harder to tell on the kindle app if it is the exact page number.

[hotelload494]

Our Revels Now Are Ended

Our Revels Now Are Ended Akira The Don

Our Revels Now Are Ended

Our Revels Now Are Ended The Tempest Act Iv Scene I

Our Revels Now Are Ended Youtube

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision. 13 thoughts on “ Our Revels Now Are Ended. ” ST says: March 1, 2020 at 6:47 pm “Farewell the tranquil mind.” Indeed!

“Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded.

Title: Our revels now are ended Author: bsimon Last modified by: bsimon Created Date: 5/18/2006 3:17:00 PM Other titles: Our revels now are ended.

Prospero and Miranda from the Paralympic opening ceremony

2012 has been the year of The Tempest. During this year of the World Shakespeare Festival at least three productions have been seen in the UK, and the play featured in the opening ceremonies for both the Olympics and Paralympics. Danny Boyle took much of his inspiration from the play’s themes of magic, humanity and reconciliation, entitling the ceremony “Isles of Wonder”. Kenneth Branagh, dressed as Isambard Kingdom Brunel, delivered Caliban’s “The isle is full of noises” speech, and for the Paralympics Jenny Sealey and Bradley Hemmings gave us Ian McKellen as Prospero delivering speeches inspired by the play while Nicola Miles-Wildin as Miranda delivered her lines on the beauty of mankind, “O brave new world that has such people in it”.

At the British Museum’s current Shakespeare: Staging the World exhibition the final room is devoted to the play. The room is bathed in light after the darkness of the rest of the exhibition. Here we find terrestrial and celestial Globes symbolising exploration and discovery, the Robben Island Shakespeare reminding us of Shakespeare’s universal importance, and a recording of Ian McKellen delivering one of Prospero’s final speeches about reconciliation.

The productions have been as varied as the rest of the year’s Shakespeare offerings. The Globe to Globe production was performed in Bangla by the Dhaka Theatre of Bangladesh, with English subtitles. This vibrant production is available to view on The Space.

The RSC’s production is one of the trilogy of Shipwreck plays with Jonathan Slinger as a young, angry Prospero in David Farr’s modern dress production.

Tim Pigott-Smith as Prospero

Last Saturday another production of the play, directed by Adrian Noble, closed at the Theatre Royal in Bath. Noble’s production has been adapted from the San Diego Festival where it was the hit of 2011.

I was at the final performance, on the night before the closing ceremony of the Paralympics. Like the Olympics and Paralympics the production celebrated life, joy and emotion. In the build-up to the closing ceremony comedian Jimmy Carr was interviewed. “I’ve had a summer off from cynicism” he said.

This production connects with the audience from the start: Tim Pigott-Smith strides downstage, surveys the house sternly and strikes the boards with his magic staff. Pigott-Smith has played his fair share of unpleasant characters but here he doesn’t remain harsh for long. Miranda, played by Iris Roberts and Ferdinand (Mark Quartley) are a couple many fathom deep in love, and the atmosphere of delight is shared with the cast of curious islanders. Comedy is in the reliable hands of Geoffrey Freshwater and Mark Hadfield.

The programme editorial by Stuart Leeks focuses on the history of theatrical magic, but points out that although it’s now possible to create illusions by the use of projected images, “the greatest magic in The Tempest surely lies in the words used to summon up the fabric of this vision: the extraordinarily rich, supple, compacted verse”. In this well-spoken production magic is summoned, not by technology, but by a huge blue silk cloth. The islanders use it to make waves, to conceal entrances and exits, cover objects, as a dance partner. Ariel’s shadow as the Harpy is projected onto it, and the red eyes of the dogs that pursue Stephano and Trinculo glow behind it.

Our Revels Now Are Ended Akira The Don

At the end of the play Prospero speaks his final speech on a bare stage. He asks for help “or else my project fails/Which was to please”. He finds his redemption in connecting with the rest of humanity, and the cast joyfully leave the stage to clasp the hands of the audience.

Our revels now are ended: this summer both sport and culture have celebrated the human spirit with optimism and warmth. Long may it continue.

Condolences have come in from all over the country on the passing away of theatre doyen and art connoisseur Ebrahim Alkazi (18 October 1925 – 4 August 2020). However, what touched the heart was a Facebook post by Kumara Varma, who was schooled in theatre direction at the National School of Drama (NSD) and spent a lifetime in Chandigarh doing memorable plays and later heading the department of Indian theatre at Panjab University. Posting a black and white portrait of Alkazi, Varma quotes Shakespeare from The Tempest: “Our revels have now ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and, Are melted into air, into thin air.”

Our Revels Now Are Ended

Now settled in his home state of Kerala at Trichur, Varma says: “These are the lines that came to my mind when the news of Alkazi’s passing away came and one says with humble pride that whatever one learned was from him. He shaped modern Indian theatre and it was he who set the tradition of translating plays written in different regional languages all over the country and staging them in Hindustani. His repertoire was thus truly pan-Indian”.

© Provided by Hindustan Times Director Ebrahim Alkazi ()

Legend of Tughlaq

With this we come to the spectacular production of Girish Karnad’s Tughlaq, which was originally written in Kannada and translated for Alkazi by yet another brilliant director-musician of modern Indian theatre, late BV Karanth. Karnad was to say thus of Alkazi: “His fundamental contribution was to devise a methodology of theatre training which has continued after him, and to create a body of actors and directors which transformed the notion of theatre at the grassroots.” Interestingly, Alkazi first assigned Om Shivpuri to take up Tughlaq as a student production. Karnad was acknowledge that it was immaterial that these were only student productions: “Doors that we, in our vernaculars did not even know existed, had begun to open.”

Karnad, who sourced his plays from myth and history, wrote Tughlaq in 1964, based on the maverick life of the 14th century Sultan of Delhi, Mohammad Bin Tughlaq.

Alkazi as the founding director of NSD from 1962 to 1977, in those 15 years, directed to perfection many plays, yet his three definitive works to be staged in the backdrop of Delhi’s Purana Qila were Andha Yug, Razia Sultan and Tughlaq. The last which he first staged in 1962 is counted as one of the best productions the country saw in modern times is because it brought together some of the best talents of the country: Alkazi, Karanth, Karnad and of course the famous actor Manohar Singh, the Himachal boy who was groomed by his teacher to be one of the best actors on stage. Manohar was the first and only choice of Alkazi, who said: “Manohar had the aristocracy of spirit, nobility of soul and complete humility in understanding and enacting a role.”

Varma, who played the junior guard recalls, “The play had passed from history into legend while it was still being enacted. Artiste Kamal Tewari recalling the magnificent and unparalleled performance of Manohar Singh, says: “I was included in the production playing one of the conspiring Ameers and I remember the slap Manohar Singh gave me sent me hurling some six feet away”. Veteran actor Rani Balbir Kaur adds, “I travelled a number of times till the play was active to see it and each time it was a great experience. What dialogue delivery by Manohar Singh! I first met Kumara Varma there playing the young guard to whom Manohar renders the famous speech ‘Umangon bhari umar hai, Khwab dekhne ki umar, Saare aalam ko jeetne ki umar’ (It is your age of exaltation, The time to indulge in dreams, The time to conquer the whole world)’.”

Our Revels Now Are Ended The Tempest Act Iv Scene I

Flash forward to 1980s

It was in the mid-1980s during a meeting with actor Meeta Vashisht, who one knows from her Chandigarh theatre days, at the NSD hostel. One got talking about Tughlaq. Meeta recounted that the boy students would down beer, strip off most of their clothing and recite the dialogues of Tughlaq till late at night. Not surprising for that’s how it was and is in boys’ hostels. The young ones were giving an irreverent tribute but a tribute nevertheless. At the same time they were practising dialogue delivery at its best. Yes, and as a friendly neighbourhood journalist one had the privilege of spending a few evenings with Manohar Singh who would pick up the play and recite some of the dialogues. I earned his wrath when I once dosed off a little in the middle of the renderings and he told me to get up, fix myself a drink, and carried on reciting.

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Such was the magic of Tughlaq, a political play that was written on the faultline of Nehruvian socialism, yet in such a manner that it reached out to all in its multilayered delineation to one and all.

Our Revels Now Are Ended Youtube

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[xtruss]

Global Cactus Traffickers Are Cleaning Out the Deserts

A recent raid in Italy involving rare Chilean species highlights the growing scale of a black market in the thorny plants.

— By Rachel Nuwer | May 20, 2021 | The New York Times

Copiapoa cinerascens, a cactus, in Pan de Azúcar National Park in the Atacama Desert of Chile. Credit...Gretchen Mattison/Alamy

Andrea Cattabriga has seen a lot of cactuses where they didn’t belong. But he’d never seen anything like Operation Atacama, a bust carried out last year in Italy. A cactus expert and president of the Association for Biodiversity and Conservation, Mr. Cattabriga often helps the police identify the odd specimen seized from tourists or intercepted in the post.

This time, however, Mr. Cattabriga was confronted by a stunning display: more than 1,000 of some of the world’s rarest cactuses, valued at over $1.2 million on the black market.

Almost all of the protected plants had come from Chile, which does not legally export them, and some were well over a century old. The operation — which occurred in February 2020, but is being made public now because of the cactuses’ recent return to Chile — was most likely the biggest international cactus seizure in nearly three decades. It also highlights how much money traffickers may be earning from the trade.

Seeing the collected cactuses brought a profound sadness to Mr. Cattabriga.

“Here is an organism that has evolved over millions of years to be able to survive in the harshest conditions you can find on the planet, but that finishes its life in this way — just as an object to be sold,” he said.

As with the market for tiger bones, ivory, pangolin scales and rhino horn, a flourishing illegal global trade exists for plants. “Just about every plant you can probably think of is trafficked in some way,” said Eric Jumper, a special agent with the Fish and Wildlife Service. Cactuses and other succulents are among the most sought after, along with orchids and, increasingly, carnivorous species.

Trafficking can take a serious toll. Over 30 percent of the world’s nearly 1,500 cactus species are threatened with extinction. Unscrupulous collection is the primary driver of that decline, affecting almost half of imperiled species. Yet this realm of illegal trade is typically overlooked, a prime example of “plant blindness,” or the human tendency to broadly ignore this important branch on the tree of life.

“The basic functioning of the planet would effectively grind to a halt without plants, but people care more about animals,” said Jared Margulies, a geographer at the University of Alabama who studies plant trafficking. “A lot of plant species are not receiving the amount of attention they would be if they had eyes and faces.”

Yet the size of Operation Atacama could be a notable exception. It is also the largest known example of cactuses stolen from the wild being repatriated for reintroduction into their native habitat.

Experts also hope the case can be a turning point for how countries, collectors, conservationists and the industry deal with the thorny issue of international cactus trafficking.

“Society as a whole can no longer continue to have a naïve view of this problem,” said Pablo Guerrero, a botanist at the University of Concepción in Chile.

Passion For Rarity

Italian investigators with Operation Atacama prepared a specimen of Copiapoa solaris for shipment back to Chile from a greenhouse in Milan, Italy. Credit...Andrea Cattabriga

Cactuses and other succulents are hot business today. They have become the darlings of social media, promoted by indoor plant influencers for their outlandish looks and minimal care requirements. The pandemic only increased their popularity, with shops struggling to keep some species in stock.

The average hipster’s cactus collection will include only common species propagated in nurseries. But for some specialist collectors — who tend to be middle-aged or older men — the hobby is much more serious.

“A lot of what drives the interest and passion for these plants is their uniqueness and rarity,” said Bárbara Goettsch, co-chair of the Cactus and Succulent Plant Specialist Group at the International Union for Conservation of Nature.

Many cactus species are highly localized, found, for example, only on certain steep limestone cliffs in Mexico, or a single sandy patch of less than one square mile on Peru’s coast. They also tend to be extremely slow-growing. Larger specimens, which are more highly sought after, can be decades or even hundreds of years old. These features make cactuses particularly sensitive to over-harvesting, but also particularly attractive to collectors interested in exclusivity.

Purchasing rare species legally, however, can be difficult to impossible. All cactuses and many other types of succulents require permits to be traded internationally, if they can be legally traded at all. Most countries also prohibit collection of some or all of these species from the wild, including the United States.

“For all cactuses, you cannot collect them off public land, period,” Mr. Jumper said. “Catching people in the field actually collecting cactuses takes quite a bit of luck, though, because they collect in some vast areas.”

Once cactuses are poached from the wild, illicit trade often happens in the open. High-end plant shops in Japan display protected, wild-harvested species, while sellers around the world advertise them on eBay, Instagram, Etsy and Facebook. Online ads are often accompanied by disclaimers that the cactuses do not come with necessary permits for legal trade, and poachers sometimes livestream videos from the field, asking customers which plants they want. Traffickers are rarely caught or prosecuted. While American, British, European and Japanese collectors have traditionally driven the illegal trade, more recently, interest has also spread to China, Korea and Thailand.

Although no estimates exist for the scope of the illegal cactus trade, many experts believe it is increasing. “It was a much smaller issue 20 years ago, but now, it is major,” said Jeff Pavlat, president of the Cactus and Succulent Society of America. “Entire populations are being stripped.”

A Poacher’s Playbook

Copiapoa Cinerea. Credit...Andrea Cattabriga

In February 2020, the Italian police, responding to a tip, visited the home of Andrea Piombetti, a well-known cactus collector and seller in Senigallia, a town on the Adriatic coast. In a makeshift greenhouse, officers discovered around 1,000 protected Chilean Copiapoa and Eriosyce species, ranging from the size of a baseball to a beach ball. Police officers seized the plants, along with Mr. Piombetti’s cellphone and passport.

It was not the first time Mr. Piombetti, who did not respond to interview requests, and who is now awaiting trial, had been accused of cactus trafficking. The police also seized a shipment of 600 Chilean cactuses from him in 2013. But the case was never prosecuted because of bureaucratic delays, and the statute of limitations passed.

“Many environmental crimes in Italy have this problem — they can’t be punished after four or five years,” said Lt. Col. Simone Cecchini, chief of the wildlife division of the local police department, who led the 2013 and 2020 investigations. “This time, our prosecutor said we’ll try to be very fast, because he wants to avoid what happened in 2013.”

Mr. Piombetti has not yet entered a plea in court.

Mr. Cattabriga and other experts carried out a number of analytical tests to confirm that the plants had not been homegrown, but instead were collected from the wild in Chile’s Atacama Desert. Mr. Cecchini and his colleagues found that Mr. Piombetti had made seven trips to Chile, most recently in December 2019, where they say he poached the cactuses in the Atacama Desert, near Pan de Azúcar National Park.

After collecting the cactuses, Mr. Cecchini’s investigation revealed that Mr. Piombetti allegedly mailed the plants to addresses in Greece and Romania, where international customs are more lax than in Italy. Because of their hardiness, cactuses can survive long journeys by post without soil, water or light.

Mr. Cecchini found many records of illegal cactus sales in Mr. Piombetti’s phone, including receipts from a Japanese company that seemed to place large monthly orders. Based on the prices quoted by text, the police calculated that the seized cactuses were worth over one million euros.

“We need bigger penalties in Italy for this type of environmental crime,” Mr. Cecchini said.

A First-of-its-kind Homecoming

A specimen of Capiapoa conglomerata recovered by Operation Atacama. Credit...Andrea Cattabriga

After the seizure, Mr. Cattabriga arranged for the plants, many of which were in very poor health, to be transferred to the Città Studi Botanical Garden of Milan for temporary care. As the investigation progressed, the question of what to do with them became more urgent.

Cactuses confiscated by the Italian authorities are normally destroyed or, if they are rare species, sent to botanical gardens. But with Operation Atacama, “it was very different,” Mr. Cattabriga said. The number of cactuses was so large, and some were critically endangered species found in areas of Chile spanning just a few square miles with very specialized needs. Keeping the cactuses at the garden was a likely death sentence.

At first, there was discussion of sending the plants to other botanical gardens in Italy and broader Europe. But Mr. Cattabriga, Mr. Cecchini and Dr. Guerrero were adamant they be returned to Chile for both conservation and symbolic purposes.

Working with Dr. Goettsch and several others, they spent much of 2020 navigating Italian, Chilean and international bureaucracy to secure permission to send the plants home. “It’s the first time this has happened, so no one was really clear on how to do this,” Dr. Guerrero said.

The authorities finally agreed to the transfer in late 2020. But neither Chile nor Italy would pay the approximately $3,600 shipping cost.

Dr. Goettsch managed to secure about three-quarters of the funds from the International Union for Conservation of Nature, and the botanical garden in Milan pitched in as well. The rest was provided by Liz Vayda, owner of B. Willow, a plant shop in Baltimore that regularly donates to environmental groups.

Finally, in late April, 844 cactuses made the return journey to Chile. Around 100 others had died, and 84 stayed in Milan for study.

Mr. Cattabriga has been making daily video calls to try to ensure the plants are being properly cared for while they are in quarantine. According to Bernardo Martínez Aguilera, head of the forest inspection department at Chile’s National Forest Corporation, the final goal “is that the majority of these individuals return to their natural environment, which they never should have left.”

Carrots and Sticks

Cacti of the Copiapoa genus in Pan de Azúcar National Park. Credit...Erlantz Pérez Rodriguez/Alamy

Operation Atacama is by far the biggest bust in recent history, but there are other signs that law enforcement is beginning to take note of cactuses. Six men were sentenced to a number of penalties after recent federal convictions involving a cactus trafficking ring that poached thousands of living rocks in southwest Texas for smuggling to Europe and Asia. Additional cactus-related prosecutions have taken place in California and Arizona.

But while stronger law enforcement is welcome, a variety of experts believe prohibition, on its own, will not stop trafficking. Instead, they favor meeting demand through sustainably managed collection of seeds or cuttings of wild plants, which could be used for artificial propagation by certified greenhouses.

Sales of these legally sourced plants could help offset illegal trade. Preferably, the proceeds would go directly to communities living alongside the species, the experts say, creating incentives to protect them. The cactus and succulent trade is “big business, but the majority of that money is not centered in countries of origin,” Dr. Margulies said. “I think there should be a push to engage in this more from a social justice lens.”

Many countries’ domestic legislation prohibits these types of activities, however, as do strict international trade laws and bureaucracy. The result, Mr. Cattabriga said, is a system that “discourages the reproduction of rare plants in captivity, and has the side effect of exacerbating the illicit trade.”

Dr. Guerrero hopes that Operation Atacama will ignite discussions of how to reform legislation to make it more amenable to solutions.

In the meantime, some plant enthusiasts are going out of their way to change cactus collecting culture. Ms. Vayda at B. Willow, for example, is in conversation with the International Union for Conservation of Nature about potentially establishing houseplant industry standards for certifying that greenhouses use legally sourced plants, similar to organic or fair-trade food labels. “Right now, I have to specifically ask a grower, ‘Where do your plants from?’” she said.

The Cactus and Succulent Society of America is trying to steer members away from the temptation of poached plants through educational talks, articles it publishes and other means. The society also banned growers from entering specimens into specialty shows and competitions that members would have no way of legally acquiring today.

“You can’t have a Copiapoa collected in Chile in the 1970s get the ribbon, and then tell members, ‘No, you can’t have that plant, you have to start from seed and in 200 years you can have it,’” Mr. Pavlat said. “We have to reset what people’s goals and expectations are.”

[techcrunchappcom]

New Post has been published on https://techcrunchapp.com/what-now-for-prince-andrew-royal-faces-scrutiny-after-ghislaine-maxwells-arrest-nbc-news/

What now for Prince Andrew? Royal faces scrutiny after Ghislaine Maxwell's arrest - NBC News

LONDON — As the lurid headlines swirl in the wake of the arrest of Jeffrey Epstein’s longtime confidant Ghislaine Maxwell, questions again are surging over what comes next for Britain’s Prince Andrew, who is caught up in the high-profile affair.

Maxwell, a British socialite, is behind bars at a detention center in Brooklyn, New York, and is expected to appear in court in New York next Tuesday, having been arrested in New Hampshire last week. She will face charges on four counts in connection with the trafficking of minors for criminal sexual activity and two counts of perjury.

Maxwell, 58, has not entered a plea, but has long denied any wrongdoing. Her attorney declined to comment after her arrest.

Meanwhile, the scandal that has for years dogged Andrew, 60, the second son of Queen Elizabeth II, does not appear to be going away.

“It’s a bit of a nightmare at the moment,” British public relations agent Mark Borkowski told NBC News. “He’s inextricably linked with this story, there is no exit strategy.”

Prince Charles, Princess Beatrice, Princess Anne, Queen Elizabeth II, Prince Andrew, Prince Harry and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, during Trooping The Colour, the queen’s annual birthday parade in London.Chris Jackson / Getty Images

Borkowski, who is not working with Andrew but has worked with celebrities including the “King of Pop” Michael Jackson and the comedian Joan Rivers in the past, said much now rests on exactly what Maxwell tells U.S. authorities.

He suggested Andrew should either stay silent or invite U.S. authorities “to come and meet him on home turf” in the United Kingdom and make public that he’s attempting to “take the heat off him” by explaining his relationship with both Epstein and Maxwell.

Andrew has acknowledged that he knew both Epstein and Maxwell, the disgraced financier’s formergirlfriend, but has denied any wrongdoing.

In a widely panned television interview with the BBC in the fall, Andrew said that he had been introduced to Epstein by Maxwell, and that he went to stay with him in New York for four days in 2010. The trip was to break off the friendship, Andrew said, after Epstein served time for soliciting and procuring a minor for prostitution.

Andrew has also denied allegations that he had any form of sexual contact with Virginia Roberts Giuffre, who has repeatedly said she was trafficked by Epstein when she was 17 and directed to have sexual relations with the prince.

Andrew said that he had no recollection of ever meeting her — despite a widely circulated photograph showing the pair together.

Virginia Giuffre with Prince Andrew and Ghislaine Maxwell at Prince Andrew’s London home in a photo released with court documents.

Let our news meet your inbox. The news and stories that matters, delivered weekday mornings.

Epstein, 66, died by suicide in August while awaiting trial on sex trafficking charges. Prosecutors accused the politically connected financier of preying on dozens of underage girls in New York and Florida in the early 2000s.

After his death, prosecutors vowed to continue the investigation and the case brought renewed attention to several high-profile people in Epstein’s orbit, including Andrew.

The royal abruptly stepped down from his public duties after the disastrous BBC interview, saying in a statement that he was willing to help “any appropriate law enforcement agency with their investigations, if required.”

After Maxwell was arrested Thursday, the acting U.S. Attorney Audrey Strauss for the Southern District of New York told reporters: “I’m not going to comment on anyone’s status in this investigation. But I would say we would welcome Prince Andrew coming in to talk with us. We would like to have the benefit of his statement.”

Andrew’s lawyers have previously said that they offered his help as a witness to U.S. authorities on at least three occasions this year, while his team shot back that they were “bewildered” at the Department of Justice’s latest comments.

Because Andrew is only a witness, NBC News legal analyst Danny Cevallos said, U.S. attorneys could not compel him to appear. Although he warned that “someone who may be considered a witness can quickly become a target, depending on what their answers to the questions are.”

He said that U.S. attorneys could travel to the U.K. to interview Andrew but could not compel him to appear.

“If I was defending Prince Andrew, he would never leave the U.K. again, and he would only give carefully vetted written statements,” Cevallos said.

If Andrew does travel to the U.S., Cevallos said that lawyers for Epstein’s victims could see him as a potential civil defendant and serve him with either a subpoena or a lawsuit.

But whether Andrew travels to America may not be entirely up to him.

If he is charged with a crime or sentenced in the U.S., he could face extradition proceedings, although legal experts say this is highly unlikely.

Both politically, because of the relationship between the two countries, and legally, as a member of the royal family, Andrew could be protected by crown or sovereign immunity.

Mark Stephens, a media lawyer at the London-based law firm Howard Kennedy LLP, who represented British cavalry officer James Hewitt after allegations of an affair with Princess Diana, said U.S. authorities were trying to “ensnare” the royal and that it was unlikely he would be extradited to the U.S.

Stephens said the principle of sovereign immunity — which makes certain individuals immune from prosecution — would make it difficult for Andrew to be summoned to the U.S.

If U.S. prosecutors wanted to gather information, they could do so through written testimonies or prosecutors traveling to the U.K. to collect evidence, Stephens said. This was done recently when U.S. authorities came to speak to U.K.-based survivors of the convicted rapist and disgraced Hollywood mogul Harvey Weinstein.

Even if he was extradited to America, Andrew would be under “no obligation to give evidence,” Stephens added. “You can subpoena someone to court, but you can’t force someone to give evidence,” he said, citing an individual’s legal right to silence.

However, Juliet Sorensen, a former federal prosecutor and a professor of law at Northwestern University, said the royal would most likely not be shielded by sovereign immunity.

“Sovereign immunity would not apply to a case in which a sovereign has engaged in criminal activity,” she said. “If somebody is participating in sexual trafficking and exploitation of minors and young women, that has absolutely nothing to do with their duties as a sovereign, so sovereign immunity would not apply.”

Meanwhile, Maxwell remains behind bars after prosecutors said she posed an “extreme” flight risk because of her access to substantial funds and American, French and British passports.

Her arraignment and first court hearing will occur on Tuesday, according to a court order, and will take place online due to the coronavirus pandemic.

“Maxwell played a critical role in helping Epstein identify, befriend and groom minor victims for abuse,” Strauss, the U.S. attorney, said. “In some cases, Maxwell participated in the abuse herself.”

Andrew’s advisers should be “glued” to any testimony Maxwell gives, says Borkowski, the PR guru, as the case will continue to garner headlines, leaving the prince in the eye of the British media storm.

For now, “there’s nothing much more he can do,” Borkowski counseled.

[livesoffcoco]

@aja154ever Ok so it is not as angsty as I thought it would be, but I still definitely cried. It is sort of bitter sweet. And if you are wondering who Wren is, she is my own character that I like to stick into a bunch of universes haha. She 100% could pass as Odasaku’s sister as well. 

Here is the music for it (actually inspired a line for this as well!):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fS7OffmLrf0

               It started like any other day at the Armed Detective Agency. That meant Dazai was on a tangent with some poisonous chemical he consumed; terrorizing one sweet hearted Atsushi who did not have it in him to deny Dazai much. Kunikida was steadfast in his work, not letting the wild brunette distract him. Everyone else continued on as well. Even Kyouka watched with timid eyes. She was always amazed at how different Dazai was in the ADA. With the little time she spent in the Port Mafia, she heard stories from dozens of people about how terrifying Dazai was. They told her he had been cold and distant; and when he showed a happier side, you did not want to be around him because that meant he had fresh blood on his hands.

               Yet sometimes, from a particular short, well dressed executive, she would hear other stories.

               They were stories of a softer side. They were stories of a childish Dazai that had not just murdered someone. These were stories of an observer, someone that had not been let into that tiny opening in Dazai’s emotional armor.

               Even now, Kyouka could tell Dazai was putting up this front. It did not seem as bad as his executive phase was, but it was there none the less.

               It took another of couple hours until Kunikida finished his work and for Dazai to calm down. The brunette ended up passing out on one of the couches where the first interviewed potential cases. Both Kyouka and Atsushi peaked around the corner, observing the sleeping male. “He looks so harmless now.” Atsushi dead panned, obviously still sore from being tied up as tightly as he had been. Dazai was the best interrogator in the Mafia after all. Of course some of those skills would still be with.

               None the less Kyouka giggled behind her sleeve, making sure to stay quiet.

               Dazai seemed like he did not sleep much. She had her own ghosts and Dazai’s seemed far worse. That meant little sleep. So what little she could give him was more than enough.

               While they watched him, the front door to their office sounded, the bell tinkling in the quiet air. Both of them turned and Dazai unfortunately stirred. That was another thing someone learned quickly when they were in a powerful position; everyone was out to get you and sleeping was perhaps the least safe you could be.

               A sleepy eyed Dazai followed the two younger teens back into the main room where Kunikida was speaking with the newcomer.

               The first thing Dazai noticed about her was that she was a red head; brighter red than Chuuya. That tone of red looked like…

               His heart twisted.

               The second thing he noticed was that she was not Japanese. All though she spoke the language well, her accent was a dead give away.

               This woman was English.

               She was dressed casually in what looked like work out clothing. An odd choice but she looked pretty either way.

               The woman was actually taller than Kunikida. She was around his height….

               “I see you finally woke up from your nap. This woman would like to speak with you.” It took a few seconds for Dazai’s sleep muddled brain to catch up but Kunikida was speaking with him. Her green eyes looked at him and she could see freckles over the bridge of her nose, obviously standing out more from the summer sun.

               “You must be Dazai.” Yep. Her British accent was thick. Much more noticeable now that she was speaking directly at him. “I have heard much about you so it is nice to finally meet you. You are all he talks about.”

               That immediately did not sound good. Considering most of the people that Dazai had met in the past that was European ended up either wanting to kill him or were still affiliated with the Port Mafia, her presence here did not spell good things for him.

               “I am not sure what this is all about.” It was the first time in a long time Dazai was actually struggling to find the right words. It was rare that he got tongue tied, yet here he was. The woman smiled, a genuine look that held no malice. At least not from what Dazai could tell. It made his stomach twist just a little less.

               “I apologize. I have not introduced myself. My name is Wren Blackburn and I am an ability user like yourself. Well, not like your ability. Sometimes I wish I could block mine out.” He waited, as did everyone else. “My ability allows me to communicate with the dead.”

               And there it was.

               Dazai had to suck in a quick breath or he would pass out. Atsushi, far more perceptive than he lets on to everyone else, shuffled with nervous energy. Kunikida was the least knowledgeable about it all so he just tilted his head to the side. “This young man has been buggering me non stop to speak with a Dazai Osamu.” She jutted her thumb to the side, to empty air.

               But Dazai knew who exactly was standing beside her. He had to quickly blink back tears and plaster a smile on his face. He had not cried for nearly five years and would not start up again now. He had to get them away from the others. “I see. Would you like to speak in private? We can talk in the infirmary.” No one would be in there. Wren nodded and turned to the empty space again and shrugged her shoulders, obviously speaking with…

               So he led her through the office and into the quiet room. Already he could feel his eyes burning again so he blinked rapidly. If anyone else saw him they would laugh at how stupid he looked, but he made sure to keep his back to Wren while he pulled up another stool for her to sit on. He wanted to break down when she pulled up an extra, sitting it to her left and Dazai’s right.

               “I apologize for finding you at your place of work, but he was very adamant; said he had something he wished to speak with you about that he could not say when he was alive.”

               “I see. And he is…” Dazai had to pause. If he continued speaking he would just break down and never stop the tears. Instead he motioned towards the empty stool and Wren nodded with an understanding smile.

               “Yes, he is right there. My ability allows me some other skills as well. I may grant the deceased individual five minutes of being material in this realm. Would you like that Dazai? I already discussed it with him and he agreed; on the express condition that I ask for your permission first.” Of course he would. Dazai kept his mouth shut though, knowing what would come out if he opened it. This had to be some sort of dream, yet he allowed himself to nod. Wren smiled before placing her hand in the air. It looked as though she was imitating holding her hand on a shoulder, but Dazai knew better. He watched with his own two eyes, partially disbelievingly, as a familiar form materialized before him.

               Before long, he was sitting there in the flesh. Wren was quick to excuse herself, giving the two fo them privacy.

               And Dazai could hold back no longer. He silently started to cry. He knew tears were slipping down his cheeks but he did not move to brush them away.

               “It has been a long time Dazai.” Odasaku’s voice was just as Dazai remembered it. It only made Dazai’s tears fall faster, burning his eyes with the amount. He could not move as Odasaku pushed the rolling stool forwards. His longer legs bracketed Dazai’s as familiar calloused hands reached up. There was no hesitation as he cupped Dazai’s face. “Please Dazai. Do not shed tears for me. Do not waist them on me.” Dazai could not speak. If he opened his mouth he would scream and wail and sob as loud as his lungs would allow.

               Odasaku’s other hand reached up and brushed the tears from the other side of his face, though they were immediately replenished. Dazai was catching up on years of bottling these emotions. They were spewing out in the form of tears as Odasaku caressed his tear stained face. “You have been so strong Dazai. All these years and you have grown into such an incredible young man, though I never thought it would occur differently.”

               “Five years is a long time, but I have thought about a lot in that time.” Odasaku continued. “I realized that I could have helped sooner. I saw you agonizing away in the mafia. I saw your heart screaming for freedom. It was a cage and it was killing you quickly.” Dazai knew that was right. He still had the scars to prove it. “And I could never apologize enough for not helping you.” Dazai did let out a quiet sob at that. Odasaku was blaming himself for things that were far beyond his control.

               “I realized too late that you were just another small child; too afraid and had to grow up far too fast. You never deserved to live such a horrible life and if I could, I would have taken you away from it. Yet I was too afraid if I touched you back then, you would shatter. You were just one more thing away from turning into dust.”

               “Yet you had the strength and tenacity to not let my dying drag you down. I know it is hard when you are young, but you got past the hardest part. Everything is up hill from here Dazai. You are surrounded by people who love you and care for you and only wish the world for you.” Dazai rubbed his own eyes, wanting to take in as much of Odasaku as he could before it was all gone again. And then he said those words that Dazai had dreamed about, yearned for for five agonizingly long years.

               “I could not be more proud of you Dazai. I could only wish I was half the man you have become.” Odasaku leaned forwards and pressed a soft kiss upon Dazai’s wet eye lids. He pressed one to his forehead before leaning down.

               Dazai shook almost violently when Odasaku pressed a kiss to his lips. For the first time since Wren made Odasaku material, Dazai reached out and clung to that familiar button down. When Odasaku pulled away, it was just barely; just enough for Odasaku to speak with his lips still brushing against Dazai’s. “Keep going. You have to keep walking Dazai. Never stop. Live for each sunrise and live for each moment, even if it is painful. That pain means you are alive. It means you still have precious moments to live and to discover in this life. Please Dazai, for me. Live.”

[rationalsanskar]

How to Achieve Mindfulness Without Having to Actually Meditate

In 1977, Roald Dahl published a lesser-known collection of short stories called The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six . The titular tale is about a beleaguered British billionaire who finds peace (and eventually, fantastical powers) by learning to calm his brain with a variety of techniques. One such method involves focusing intensely on a single image in the brain for a long period of time.

In the book, Sugar manages to picture an orange for more than 10 minutes. I can remember putting my dog-eared copy down and trying my best to do the same. When that failed after eight or nine hopeless seconds, I thought of apples, blueberries, pears. No luck. Each time, memories from earlier in the week or stresses about the upcoming one managed to invade my brain and tear me from the moment.

Fast-forward a couple decades, and whenever I try to sit down tomeditate — yoga mat, dimly lit room, relaxing music, a scented candle or two — I still think of this failed fourth-grade experiment. Formal attempts at proper, popular meditation often end prematurely for me, with my mind whirring like the wheel of death on an old Dell desktop. I think about interviews I have to schedule, flights I have to book, contact lenses I have to order. Eventually, I call it, thinking Damn, didn’t work. After these “failures” I’m less likely to attempt meditation again; ironically, I now associate the practice with stress.

This isn’t uncommon. According to a 2016 study, only 12% of American adults practice meditation, a number that nonetheless represents a 50% increase from earlier in the decade. That uptick has coincided with an ever-growing wellness industry that includes functional exercise, apps and products that encourage embracing the present, from mat Pilates to Calm to the Wave meditation system.

But that number’s still low, and the difficulty surrounding the practice is a prevailing reason why. In order to achieve mindfulness — the practice of paying attention to one’s thoughts and sensations in a particular moment — people assume they need to first create a perfect environment. Noise at a minimum, pleasant scents and legs crossed, with enlightenment just a few deep breaths out of reach. This line of thinking, though, ascribes too much importance to the activity. It’s self-defeating, like punching a pillow in anger while trying to fall asleep. Traditional meditation may indeed work well for many, but if it doesn’t do it for you, there are other ways to achieve mindfulness.

Think of activities in your life that erase hours from the clock. The ones you look forward to, or perhaps the ones you don’t think much about at all. They come, they go, but by the end of it all you feel measurably more relaxed. These activities can be considered “backdoors” to mindfulness. They’re inherently meditative, because you derive the same benefits from them that might come from 10 good minutes spent picturing an orange.

Below, we’ve assembled seven different activities that have been known to universally encourage elements of mindfulness. Importantly, we chose pursuits that an overwhelming majority of human beings can participate in at the drop of a hat. Surfing big waves, practicing magic tricks or playing the French horn may help you achieve mindfulness, and walking a dog may get you there too (assuming you’ve got one), but these examples are inclusive and easily incorporated into the mornings, afternoons and evenings of just about anyone.

Cooking

The future of on-demand food ordering is absolutely insane: the industry is projected to rake in a whopping $365 billion in revenue by 2030. Why? Millennials buy fewer groceries than older generations, and devote just 13 minutes a day to meal prep. I can identify. Three nights a week, I’ll bring some sort of $13 grab-and-go market bowl back for dinner. I often think of it as a chore handled, and an opportunity to watch TV the second I enter my apartment, fork shoved firmly into my mouth as I do. But I’ve noticed that on days I cook up a meal, however simple (I’m a big fan of shrimp mixed with rice and veggies), I’m able to go on a rare, much-appreciated, end-of-day autopilot. Heat the pan, prepare the rice, wash the veggies, cut and season the shrimp — I’ll generally perform these tasks with music on, while talking to my roommate or in silence, the only sound the gentle sizzle of the cooking food.

There’s an exact phrase for this experience: behavioral activation. It refers to a positive activity that necessitates presence of mind. Cooking requires decisions from your brain, motor skills from your body and an end goal that can fill your brain with a feeling of accomplishment. Plus, cutting and tearing are proven methods for handling a tough day, while the recipes can be both comforting and expected, or unusual and creative. Either way, they demand your attention, and will keep you looking at the pan, instead of your emails.

Water Therapy

The restorative effects of cold-water immersion are well-documented at this point. From ice baths to plunge pools to Scottish showers, the practice has near magical benefits for the body. It catalyzes post-workout recovery, staves off injury, lowers blood pressure, increases metabolic rate and stimulates the immune system. But there is mindfulness in freezing your butt off, too, believe it or not. You’re outside in nature, for starters, which we know does wonders for mental health. And cold water encourages the release of neurotransmitters like dopamine, adrenaline, norepinephrine and serotonin, all of which have anti-depressive effects.

I jumped into the North Sea a few days ago, when air temperatures were hovering around 30°F, and can assure you that I wasn’t thinking about anything but exactly how my body felt in that exact moment. It hijacks your afternoon, in a good way; I took a long, hot shower afterwards, and then felt alert and alive for a good six hours. On the other, less-Bear-Grylls end of the spectrum, lounging into warm water or having a bath at the end of the day are other forms of highly effective “water therapy” which should march you one step closer to mindfulness.

Journaling

According to a team of researchers from Princeton University and UCLA, those who take notes on computers are less likely to summarize and retain information than those who take notes with their hands. The study (and others like it) has long been cited as a reason to save handwriting: save a lost art while boosting our memory! But handwriting’s effectiveness also extends into the realm of another mindful activity: journaling. A nightly commitment to putting pen on paper will add special significance to your days; what’s remembered as banal or unspectacular two months later might’ve actually been exciting or unusual at the time, and you’ll have the notes to prove it. On top of making you a better handwriter, it will make you a better writer, period, and it will happen in an arena that’s rhythm, old-timey and devoid of stress-inducing blue light. In case you have no desire to catalogue your own life — find writing prompts online. Scribble nonsense. Sometimes, when I finish writing for 10 minutes or so, I wake up as if from a drunken trance. It’s a lovely feeling.

Adult Recess

When you’re a kid, there are times that your parents, needing an afternoon to wash dishes, pay bills and do other real-world-things, will order you to “go play.” It’s a typical childhood exultation, and from a young age, we oblige. We pick up branches and have stick fights. We “run the bases.” We invent games on trampolines and whack each other with styrofoam noodles. But somewhere along the way, play stops. For some medical professionals, the lack of play among adults is public health issue. Dr. Stuart Brown, who founded the National Institute for Play, explains that play is instrumental to optimism and self-motivation, while fostering a sense of belonging and community with others.

Unfortunately, it’s long been difficult for the average individual to find play in the adult world — let alone the heaping helping of mindfulness it delivers. Adults are an insular bunch, and those that do join groups often do so for competition. (Think: weekend warriors in intramural leagues.) But in the last few years, more groups have come about that prioritize the relaxation involved with simply running around. From DC to San Francisco to Greensboro, more cities are starting “adult recess” leagues, where the stakes are low and you’re free to think about nothing but throwing or kicking a ball for 90 minutes — with drinks often on the docket afterward.

Running

I’ve written about my return to running in the last couple months, after a six-year break. For years, I associated the activity with stress, expectation and pre-race nervous pees, but my recent reentry to the tribe has been calm and easy. I feel an appreciation now for the ways in which both pain (mile repeats on a track along Manhattan’s East River) and wonder (tripping up snow-covered hills on the outskirts of Edinburgh) seem to remove me entirely from the world of 9-5. I don’t need a scientific study to confirm the inherent meditative qualities of running, though there are many. Runs with destinations, runs that meander, runs desperate to hit a certain time — they’re all about the sweaty, heaving present. That state of being is usually a struggle, but it can be euphoric, and that’s why we do it. You should do it, too.

Live Music

A massive trend in the mindfulness space is the composition of music specifically geared for achieving calm. They can be lovely, and I can mellow into them easily, but they’re often too ethereal and not very sustainable. Who can listen to that stuff for 45 minutes? I contend that mindfulness can also be found in the General Admission section at a concert, or in a booth at an Irish pub that brings some Van Morrison sound-alike out every Tuesday evening. Live music is effortless presence of mind, especially when we leave our phones in our pockets. It represents a deviation from the norm (very few of us experience live music every day), which heightens the importance of the moment and your concentration relative to other earthly concerns. And it often rewards your ossicles with a series of mini-eargasms, which is nice.

Home and Garden

One of the surest signs that you’ve become an adult — aside from a strange desire to receive socks over the holidays — is that you actually enjoy performing household chores. I get giddy when I have a solid two hours to push my vacuum around, make the kitchen sparkle and point a hose at the gutters. Similar to the behavioral activation associated with cooking, busying about a home or apartment offers tasks and results, concentration and satisfaction. They’re an exhilarating change of pace from the mind-numbing practices of day-to-day work in a sedentary society. After a week of sitting at a computer, I will gladly Lysol the hell out of a coffee table. And I can’t remember ever thinking about much while I’m doing it. Not to mention — there are endless opportunities to personalize and perfect a space, from DIY projects to caring for plants, that will also transport you to a relaxing place far, far away.

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