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noconcernofyours · 5 years ago

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Pinning Down My Kind of Movie

Warning: Wanky, self-indulgent ramblings about Hollywood auteurs to follow

A couple of days ago, I sat down with my housemate to watch Miami Vice (2006) directed by Michael Mann (Heat, Collateral) and starring Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx. Since we moved into our place, my housemate has gradually been exposed to my taste in movies, and the other day, sat in front of a strung-out Colin Farrell ordering mojitos to ‘Numb/Encore’ during an undercover sting, he finally confronted me with a crisis-inducing statement: “You know, I can’t figure out what your kind of movie is.”

If I am to be totally honest, it doesn’t take much to send me into an existential tailspin, but this observation got me thinking enough to want to sit down and write about it, so here we are. My name’s Daniel and I love movies! When I was a teenager, I was certain I wanted to be a film critic, so I started writing in earnest. The problem was I wasn’t that well rounded as a viewer. I confined myself to the world of comic book movies and Disney animation. I turned my nose up at pretty much everything else before realising that I didn’t actually know much or have much to offer about film. Instead, I turned to music criticism because that’s where my knowledge base is.

That being said, I still loved movies, and as the years have gone on, I have been rapidly expanding my film knowledge and broadened my horizons extensively. I got called a “film buff” for the first time recently, which really shocked me. I still don’t feel well-watched enough, or knowledgeable enough to fit a moniker like that. Maybe it’s imposter syndrome, but I really feel like I have a way to go yet.

My Letterboxd bio includes the phrase “admirer of film nerds”, and I think that admiration informs the entire way I look at the world of film. I read a lot of reviews and listen to a lot of podcasts by smart, unpretentious film obsessives like David Sims, Griffin Newman, Katey Rich, Karen Han and Bilge Ebiri, but that same admiration also informs the kind of films I enjoy the most. In confronting the statement from my housemate, I realised that while there are some genres I gravitate to more than others, my taste in movies is largely defined by the extent to which I can pick up on a single authorial voice driving the film. A director, writer, actor, composer or cinematographer who has a real, obsessive love for their craft whose influence and personality can be felt in every layer of a film’s construction. Franchises are a different beast, but it’s usually the entries in a franchise that feel like passion projects for individual filmmakers that I love the most, which is why Iron Man 3 is by far my favourite Marvel movie.

Over the last few months I’ve started building a fairly extensive Blu-Ray collection. I love physical media because I like to have a tangible representation of the art I love, but it also allows me to physically organise my thoughts about film rather than moving things around on a spreadsheet or in my head. It has also had an effect on how I watch films. Spending money on a film makes me feel more obligated to watch it through to the end in one sitting, to not be on my phone at the same time and to pay closer attention. It’s also made my approach to picking the films I watch more considered. I’ve been hunting down the films I haven’t seen by directors I love, fuelled by newfound completionism, and I’ve been subconsciously prioritising this kind of auteur-driven mindset in a way that has revealed, over time, who my favourite filmmakers are.

So, with that in mind, let’s transform this meandering, self-indulgent think piece into a meandering, self-indulgent listicle. Here are the filmmakers that have changed the way I watch movies:

Christopher Nolan

I know this is a bit of a film bro cliché, but I promise I’m not one of those film school douchebags who’s convinced they’re going to be the next great big budget auteur. Like a lot of other people my age, I discovered Christopher Nolan through the batman movies. I was taken to see The Dark Knight by my parents when I was 10 years old, not having seen Batman Begins, and it blew my mind. For years after that, I was one of those arseholes who had a terrible Joker impression that I whipped out at parties, until I became aware of the cliché and never did it again.

In the years since I’ve watched all of his other movies and gained a new love of Interstellar and The Prestige – movies that taught me a lot about the authorial voice and interweaving a central theme into every element of a film. I also learned that just because I find it annoying when the same tropes turn up in every Quentin Tarantino movie, recurring tropes throughout a filmmaker’s catalogue aren’t universally a bad thing.

The Coen Brothers

Representation is important. The tough thing about watching films from an auteur-driven perspective is that so many of the most important filmmakers in Hollywood are approaching their films from a white, Christian, male perspective. Scorsese is a particularly difficult director for me to appreciate because so many of his films are overtly informed by his Christianity. My Jewish identity is the most significant aspect of my identity, so naturally I’m always looking for films made from a Jewish perspective, overt or otherwise.

Whilst the Coen brothers don’t always make movies about explicitly Jewish characters or subject matters, their Jewishness always comes out in their writing, particularly in the totally undidactic way they approach the subject of faith in almost every film they’ve made. Their approach to God, fate, spirituality and religion is never one of moralising certainty, but rather a questioning one, which is a fundamental aspect of Jewish existence. I feel represented on multiple levels in the films of the Coen brothers, particularly in Inside Llewyn Davis which is my favourite film of the last decade, in ways that other directors could never manage. For the same reasons I will forever be excited about the potential of the Safdie brothers.

Stephen Spielberg

Whilst the Jewishness of Stephen Spielberg is a major attraction for me (Catch Me If You Can, his moody Christmas movie, comes across as weirdly Jewish to me), the thing that has solidified the guy as one of my favourite filmmakers is his approach to telling true stories. Unlike the Coen brothers, it’s Spielberg’s self-assuredness and didacticism that fuels my love of his work. His spate of recent, politically switched-on, historical dramas (Lincoln, Bridge of Spies and The Post) are all incredible achievements in effectively giving quiet dramas about people talking in rooms the tension and stakes of great action movies.

It’s the obvious thing to say at this point that Spielberg is one of the few genuine masters of the cinematic language, but while most will point to his massive, populist movies of the 80s and 90s as the definitive examples of that, I would point to his spottier late career with its moralising and earnestness as where his most exhilarating work lies.

Michael Mann

I like that Michael Mann is uncompromising. He makes films which, based on premise and star power, should be commercial knockouts, but they almost never are. He has an incredibly clear sense of self, and like Nolan has a lot of frequently recurring tropes in his films. Michael Mann makes films about Men Making Tough Choices™. He builds detailed, intensely researched worlds and he loves crime!

There’s something special when a filmmaker can tread the same ground over and over again and never convey the same central message twice. Nearly all of Mann’s movies are gritty, neo-noir thrillers with an obsessive attention to detail, but all of them deal with a totally distinct existential question which runs through every element of the film, from meta casting to set design, to music, to Mann’s pioneering use of digital photography. I’m just obsessed!

Stephen Soderbergh

Soderbergh is a hill that I’m going to be climbing for quite some time, I think. This is a guy who is relentlessly prolific, taking on a ridiculous number of roles on set himself, and working so fast that he often churns out multiple films in a year. With limited funds and a determination to watch movies legally, my progress through Soderbergh’s filmography has been slow, but I’ve loved every one I’ve watched so far.

As much as I love the guy’s mastery of the heist movie, and the way he slips those story telling devices into a lot of his non-heist stories, I think what really gets me about Soderbergh is the way his filmmaking style always seems to feel tooled towards portraying his characters with as much empathy as possible. Often his films are about people working or learning to empower themselves and coming to terms with their own identities. Anyway, go watch Out of Sight! It’s a damn masterpiece!

Kathryn Bigelow

Kathryn Bigelow’s career is full of insane ups and downs, but as far as I’m concerned, despite the difficulties she’s had getting her movies made and seen, she has three unqualified masterworks: Point Break, Strange Days and The Hurt Locker. On this list of directors, Bigelow has perhaps the most stylistically varied body of work, but her best work, much like that of other directors that I find myself drawn to, is largely concerned with obsession. Her characters are deeply flawed, but unwaveringly driven. What I love is that despite her drastic genre change from pulpy action thriller to hyper-realistic docudrama, she’s managed to hold on to that fascination with obsession, and an acute, outsider’s understanding of masculinity and its fragility.

Kathryn Bigelow has had to adapt to keep working, but because of that, she’s managed to develop a voice and a personality that is versatile enough to withstand her career shifts, but strong enough that it hasn’t been chipped away at by the difficulties she’s faced as a woman in Hollywood.

So, what was the point of all this?

Honestly, there wasn’t one. This was a piece of self-indulgence that allowed me to navigate an idea over which I was obsessing for a little while. That being said, I think if I had read something along these lines a few years ago, I would have delved into the world of director-focused movie watching far sooner. It’s hard to quickly and easily define the role of a director in contemporary film, particularly due to the ever growing influence of studios, but in the world in which the above filmmakers operate, the director has final say over all the creative decisions involved in putting together a movie. For me, the most exciting films are the ones that clearly and effectively communicate a single creative voice. Sue me, I love auteurs.

#miami vice #auteurs #christopher nolan #the prestige #the coen brothers #inside llewyn davis #stephen spielberg #the post #michael mann #collateral #steven soderbergh #out of sight #kathryn bigelow #the hurt locker #filmmakers #Jewish film #wanky bullshit

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orangedodge · 6 years ago

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Incoming tag game post, where I'm going to be very indecisive about half of my responses.

I was tagged by @eldritch-crone

Thank you for that, I don't get to do these often.

Rules – Answer 11 questions from the person who tagged you, then ask 11 questions of your own and tag users to answer them.

Sadly I must confess that I thought about what 11 questions I could ask, nonstop, for almost two days.

1. If you could get two characters in asoiaf to switch their narratives with each other, who all would it be? Arya and Sansa is probably the standard reply, but I think switching Arya and Sansa's locations, while keeping the overall trajectory of their characters the same, would be really interesting. By which, I mean Sansa's circumstances would be radically different than Arya's, since Sansa's gender presentation isn't going to allow her to fake being a Night's Watch recruit, but an earlier version of the Brotherhood arc would still work and they'd make a good contrast to the tourney knights she met in the first book. So we'd get Sansa in contact with the commoners and petty nobles of her mother's homeland, while traveling with a band of outlaws, and getting her eyes opened to how false the codes of knighthood and nobility are along the way, instead of via Joffrey and his band of thugs, which I think would be neat. While meanwhile Arya is off surrounded by Lannisters, sneaking in and out of the city via the secret passages that only Varys and his spies know about, in a tamer version of her Harrenhal and Braavos arc both, as she develops the skills needed to restore justice for the people of King's Landing and reuinite with her family. There's also a good chance that Syrio lives, if Arya just gets arrested right away, and that Varys starts employing Arya as a spy if she naturally begins developing that skill set anyway (as in OTL), so she could have a fun list of mentor figures.

2. What is your endgame prediction for your favourite character? The prophesied betrayal “for love” is going to be Drogon, betraying Daenerys by disobeying her, in order to save her life. Prophesies like that always have to be the person their subject least expects and would most dread, so I feel like Drogon is the most satisfying option for Dany's final betrayer. And I like the idea of the betrayal for love being something meant genuinely as an act of love, that helps her.

3. What’s the one food item from asoiaf that you’d like to taste? I can't really think of any foods in Westeros that stood out, that didn't sound incredibly bland, and the meat and lamprey dishes probably wouldn't appeal to me anyway. Oberyn's chef makes an egg and pepper dish for Tyrion and Sansa that sounds like menemen, but that's about it, and it's not really unique to asoiaf. I've never really been clear on what Martin is describing when he talks about lemon cakes, though, so I'd be happy to at least see one. I'd be willing to try the locusts if they came in a non-poisoned variety.

4. What’s your favourite song in Westeros, and why? Rains of Castamere. I just think it sounds nice, and its structure seems to have lent cover artists more success in turning it into a real song than with the others.

5. If you could bring back one character from dead, who would it be? Oberyn Martell. I've always thought his early death was a mistake in light of the importance his family plays over the next two books, and I believe his presence in the fourth book would have made the way Martin thrust us into the Dorne plot less jarring for a lot of readers.

We would have also been spared several weird attempts to replace him with off-brand knockoff versions.

6. Which house’s words is the most iconic? Why? In universe, I think House Targaryen's words are treated the same way as we, as fans, tend to treat House Stark's. Between what we see in the fourth novel's prologue, the Dorne arc, and Brienne's adventures in the Crownlands, I see the Targaryen house words having taken on an air of grim promise to one another in the hearts of the masses. We, as readers, might find vowing “fire and blood” a bit strange and off-putting, but it's not any more extra than “winter is coming”/“the North remembers,” and it represents the only hope of justice and liberation that 90% of the people in this setting have.

7. If you could bring one fashion/stylistic choice from Essos to Westeros, what would it be? I love the hats they have in Braavos.

But I also really like how most of Dany's faction shaved their heads between books, presumably because they noticed she didn't have any hair either. In the end I can't really see that catching on in Westeros though, so I have to go with my initial instinct for more nice hats.

8. If you were a character in asoiaf, what do you think your occupation would be? There are some depressing similarities between jobs I've worked in the past, and what the assistant pyromancers are seen recounting of the hazardous chemicals their guild is always losing track of. Right down to some poor sub-auditor doing a routine inventory of a bunch of closets and storage cabinets, and incidentally finding misplaced explosives, pyrophoric liquids, and radioactive materials in strange and unexpected places. = /

9. What’s the one ship in asoiaf, that you wish didn’t happen?

I could live without the Arya/Gendry hints in the books. I can enjoy the show version of Arya/Gendry for their chemistry, but I would definitely be happier without the books' hints that Arya is destined to be romantically involved with a man that she smiled at when she was nine.

10. What’s your favourite quote from asoiaf? That's a bit difficult, upon realizing that most of my favorite lines were actually show only. I enjoy Martin's style of writing, but part of how easy he is to read, I think, prevents many individual lines from really standing out to me as particularly memorable. I liked most of Varys and Ned's last meeting, Ned tried a swallow. “Dregs.” He felt as though he were about to bring the wine back up. “All men must swallow the sour with the sweet. High lords and eunuchs alike. Your hour has come, my lord.” [...] “For fifteen years I protected him from his enemies, but I could not protect him from his friends. What strange fit of madness led you to tell the queen that you had learned the truth of Joffrey’s birth?”

“The madness of mercy,” Ned admitted.

but there's no one line in there that I'd be able to take apart from the whole, and still recognize.

Jon has one line in the first book that stuck with me for how creepy it was, “You’ll be sewing all through winter. When the spring thaw comes, they will find your body with a needle still locked tight between your frozen fingers.”

but it's inseparable from the source material; it doesn't really work as a quote of its own. The show, on the other hand, had “What do we say to the god of death?” and “That's not a monster, that's just a baby,” which I find more quotable.

11. If you could change one pre-asoiaf event, what would it be? Not a single event, but I would have Daenys the Dreamer be far more active, rather than being limited to a side character in her husband and father's stories, and then vanishing without a trace once she has children. It's really strange to me that a prophet-sorceress, who lives inside of a magic volcano, doesn't turn up in history more often; particularly since, unlike her husband and father, she's actually an important historical figure within the actual asoiaf narrative. Daenys seems to just get shuffled off to her room by the men in her life as soon as she finishes her prophesies, even though dragons were meant to be the great equalizer, among her people, that prevented that kind of thing from happening. The same should go for all of the pre-Dance women of House Targaryen, but given that Daenys played an important role in saving the world, I'd have really liked to have her be active in navigating the post-Doom of Valyria fallout.

My eleven questions:

1. Whose point-of-view do you think is most extraneous to the novels, or whose interiority is least necessary to the story?

2. If you could elevate a supporting character to a secondary point-of-view status, in what book would you have made this change?

3. Which coat of arms/achievement do you think is best designed?

4. Which is your favorite scenery/location description?

5. What would be your favorite city or town to visit?

6. Who is your favorite obscure character? (i.e. that doesn't appear in the show, or that most people would need the wiki to identify)

7. What is your favorite world-building element?

8. Show question: Is there any member of the cast that you'd cast as a different character?

9. Which minor house would you like to know more about?

10. How many books long do you think asoiaf should be in total?

11. What is your favorite religion?

Open to anyone who wants to participate, because I only know five other people who like asoiaf and I don't know if any of them like tag games!

#asoiaf #tag game #game of thrones

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kaoruyogi · 8 years ago

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Trial by Fire (Ch. 18)

Now with art by the amazing @merwild!!!

Rating: E for Explicit/NSFW Content!

Check it out on AO3.

Masterpost

Law & Order and Thedas collide in this tale of long lost love, murder, and dancing.

Halise Lavellan, a hard-charging gang prosecutor with the Ferelden District Attorney's Office, transferred to the Denerim Branch with every intention of continuing her winning streak as a member of the new gang taskforce. Until she discovered she'd be sharing an office with her new colleague, and old flame, Cullen Rutherford.

Their torrid struggle for professionalism in the face of ancient heartbreak is exacerbated when a major gang homicide lands on their desks. Cullen and Halise must do everything in their power to lock up a notorious shotcaller, and stay alive while doing it. The old flame also threatens to reignite and consume both of them...and they just might let it.

(Halise's name is pronounced "Hah-Lee-Say")

Chapter 18:

“I’m feeling suuuper naked,” Halise whispered to Sera. The back of the limo the women from the office were riding in was awash with varied attire, but Halise couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d picked the wrong dress for the evening. Josephine and Dorian had sung the garment’s praises, she just couldn’t reconcile the amount of skin she was showing with the amount of hoity-toity people meant to be in attendance at the event.

“Shut it, you,” Sera spat back, uncrossing her arms just enough to poke the top of Halise’s left breast. The redhead swatted her away with a meritless look of warning. “You’re gorgeous as always. I’m stuffed in a suit. Hate suits. They’re trappy and…stuffy.”

Halise eyed the suit her friend seemed to despise so much despite having selected it herself. The jacket was bold—thick black and white vertical stripes accented by a wide black lapel that she’d adorned with a silver bee pin. The simple white shirt, black pants, and black patent flats wore like accessories to that jacket. It suited Sera to a tee.

“Well, you may hate wearing the suit, but you look awesome.” Halise paused to look around at the other women. Josephine giggled away at something Leliana had just whispered in her ear. The pretty Antivan’s gold gown was every bit the tasteful, elegant garment Halise would have suspected she would wear to such an occasion. Leliana had poured herself into a shimmering purple sheath with a high neckline and somewhat low back. Cassandra, like Sera, had opted for a suit. Her jacket was more subtle than Sera’s—a well-tailored gray pinstriped jacket with a black lapel and black pockets—though they both wore white shirts and black pants. Halise adored Cassandra’s shoes. They were black and red wingtip stiletto booties—a daring stylistic choice that was completely unexpected from the stoic woman.

“Everyone looks amazing,” Halise continued. “Meanwhile, my arms, shoulders, back, and most of my tits are out for the world’s leering pleasure.” It was true. Her gown basically began at her cleavage, rounding under her shoulder blades in the back. It was icy blue, the bodice coated in extravagant embroidered flowers and leaves that extended to dangling straps hanging around her biceps. The billowy tulle and chiffon skirt started at her waist, embroidery matching that on the bodice and scalloped lace edging the bottom. It was just long enough that her glittery gold high heels—matching her clutch—would be visible when she walked or moved, but not when she stood still. Her hair was left mostly down, only two one-inch-wide pieces twisted loosely away from her face, holding the rest back off her cheeks in the process. Josephine had even insisted on a bright red lipstick to stand out against Halise’s pale figure.

The only bit of her outfit she was certain about was her necklace. It was also the only thing Josephine and Dorian had both objected to. It didn’t fit with the rest of her ensemble, or so they said, but she didn’t care. She’d had to dig it out of a jewelry box she kept buried under a pile of clothes in the back of her closet for safekeeping. All her favorite and most expensive pieces lived in that box, and this particular necklace held a reverent position amongst the rest, however silly it had been. Still, she knew one person would like it.

“You look stunning,” Leliana purred, her accent making it sound so sincere.

“I agree,” Josephine added. “You would fit in perfectly at any Antivan diplomatic gala, and I’m certain the same can be said in Ferelden.”

Josephine and Dorian had more in common than Halise had thought upon her first meeting with the woman. Over lunch, they’d discovered that her family had a long history of involvement with the Antivan government, though she’d taken her role so much more seriously than Dorian had. Her original intention in going to law school was to join her powerhouse of a family in their empire to further cement their position. But she’d undergone a change of heart after working with the legal aid clinic during school. One woman had come in with her two children after having lost everything to a man who’d defrauded her out of her life savings. Josephine was helpless at the time, but she realized then what her true calling was. Her parents had been loath to accept her change of heart at first, but supported her after she’d proven her capabilities over a couple of years. It explained a lot about her.

Likewise, Cassandra, who had smiled softly and nodded in agreement with Josephine, was also more than met the eye. Surprisingly, she was actually a member of the Nevarran royal family. Her relation was somewhat distant, but she still had a place in line for the throne in the event enough of her relatives died. She’d joined the Seekers, a branch of the military a bit different from the Templars, after she’d graduated as an officer from their university in Ferelden. She’d won a few meritorious service medals she hated talking about—just doing her duty, she explained—and left with an honorable discharge. She’d considered joining back up in their JAG Corps after law school, but the District Attorney’s Office had gotten to her first. Skyhold and the “Inquisition” were much better off for her presence. She was the best supervisor Halise had ever worked for.

As she regarded the car-full of remarkable women, the limo came to a halt. Halise moved to exit, but Josephine reached forward to stop her. “We’re in the limousine line,” she said with a small smile. “It will be a few more moments before we are allowed to exit.”

Halise’s answering grin was bashful at best, foolish as she felt. “Whoops. Still new to this.”

“Don’t worry, there will be much less pomp and circumstance once we enter,” Cassandra finally said, breaking her silence with a disgusted noise.

“Mayor Theirin will likely want a photo-op with you the moment we exit the car, so be prepared to be swept away from us rather quickly.” Leliana’s gentle warning came with a coy smile, undoubtedly because of the rumors about Mayor Theirin’s reputation with women.

He was beloved by the citizens of Denerim, elected twice and likely to be re-elected again in the upcoming election. That being said, tabloids leapt at his every move when it came to women. He was single, though years before he’d had a very public engagement to an FBI Warden who died preventing a terrorist attack on the city. Since her death, whispers circulated about every woman the mayor stepped out with, as well as his…sexual proclivities. “Is She the One?” “Mayor Theirin and Prime Minister Mac Tir: Behind Closed Doors.” “Two Women Not Enough for Insatiable Mayor.” Inevitably proven false every time. He’d made a small fortune in defamation and libel settlements, in fact.

But Leliana was right about the photo-op. The moment their limo made it to the front of the line, and an unseen valet opened the door, cameras flashed from every direction, the cacophony of clicking shutters nearly deafening. Vivienne had been lying in wait for Mythal-knew how long, a floor-length white shift with a plunging neckline cutting a striking and beautiful contrast against her lovely umber skin. She greeted Halise softly, linking their arms together and leading the redhead toward the red carpet.

Halise struggled not to whirl her head in every direction in a vain attempt to find Cullen, or anyone in her party for that matter. Vivienne had so skillfully separated her from her coworkers, and Halise had no idea whether the men had gotten there before or after the women. She let her eyes wander about in the search, not wanting to appear unseemly in any photos that popped up online or in the press by whipping her long hair about.

All too soon, Vivienne released her, ushering her toward an empty spot on the red carpet. “Smile, my dear. And do try not to blink,” she cooed before nearly shoving Halise into the eyeline of countless photographers.

A moment of possibly visible bewilderment later, Halise was smiling as she let her eyes pass over the melee before her. Her smile was reserved, letting just her top teeth peek out from under her red lips. She’d heard once that smiling too wide in a professional photo—like the one on her DA ID card—caused unnecessary lines on the face. It was vain, but she had to put forth the best image she could with the publicity her trial seemed to be raking up at every turn. Her eyes watered from the searing light streaming down from two massive lamps that, combined with the flashbulbs, was almost unbearable.

After what felt like twenty minutes of unblinking grinning, Vivienne swept her up once more, waving coolly to the bank of photographers. “You did well, my dear,” she murmured as they approached the door to the Denerim Plaza Performing Arts Center. “But be prepared. More of the rabble await us inside, and they’ll be trying to catch you and Mayor Theirin in any compromising position they can. Also, do not be surprised if the mayor,” she paused, a thoughtful expression cast over her face as she considered the most delicate way to say, “creates such a compromising position.” That last bit was worrisome.

With each swing of the door ahead of them, more and more people slipped into view inside the warmly lit hall. Halise took another moment to see if she could find any of her friends or Cullen. Yet again, her eyesight came up short in spotting her party. The loss of her companions began to wear at her mind, anxiety creeping through in measured doses.

When Vivienne finally led her through the large doors, Halise was in awe of her surroundings. Amber light filled the space, which was decorated with every vestige of Harvestmere in Ferelden. Garlands of orange, yellow, and red leaves that she offhandedly noted were only from Ferelden native trees were strewn about, festooned from each crystal chandelier and bannister. Centerpieces of fully-bloomed embrium in tall vases filled with maroon berries bedecked rich golden tablecloths on every table. Little fragments and hints of Ferelden and Denerim were scattered throughout the scene—flags, art, and products everywhere. But she barely had a chance to marvel at the grandeur, or to look for her people, before Vivienne whisked her away again.

Mayor Theirin stood in a cluster of obviously wealthy benefactors at the far end of the room. Halise took note of his features as her biased chaperone guided her toward him. He was handsome, to be sure, much more so than the unflattering tabloid photos painted him. His reddish hair—normally quirked up in the front—was smoothed back away from his face. And a fine face it was. Sandy hazel eyes flitted from person to person, carefully ensuring each one of his patrons received their fair share of his attentions.

An unmistakable kind of exhaustion hung under those lively eyes, on either side of his prominent nose. It was the kind of exhaustion recognizable only to others who felt its pull. Halise saw it because she felt it, as she saw it on Cullen, and in some of her coworkers. It tugged at her on long nights before trials, in moments she realized she was offering a plea deal to someone who didn’t deserve it, in interviews with victims’ families. It was the exhaustion of doing a thankless job with more heartache than reward, and Mayor Alistair Theirin suffered at its hands just as much as she did.

When those tired, bright eyes locked on her, though, something in his manner shifted. Little crinkles formed about his face—next to his eyes, on his forehead, at the corners of his mouth—as he smiled at her. It was so genuine, Halise found herself smiling back without a thought. Only the whirring shutter of a nearby camera set to rapid fire stirred her gaze from his, and even then only for an instant. She understood then what all these women he may or may not have been sleeping with saw in him.

“Halise Lavellan!” he shouted, holding his hand out for her to shake. “It is fantastic to finally meet you!” His enthusiasm painted his already upbeat voice with an extra coat of affability.

She grasped his hand, unendingly grateful that he didn’t give her one of those “woman” handshakes—when the man grabs the woman’s fingers and shakes her like a dead fish. Instead he held onto her firmly, and just a bit too long. As she withdrew her hand from his she answered, “It’s lovely to meet you too, Mayor Theirin—”

“Please, for the love of the Maker, call me Alistair,” he interjected, stitching his brows together plaintively.

“Alistair,” she corrected herself, despite her discomfort at addressing him so informally. But if he wanted to be familiar, she could be familiar. “I have to admit, Alistair, I find it terribly unnerving how many important people seem to know my name.”

His grin grew even wider at her admission. “Important people have to know who other important people are. That’s how it works, unfortunately. And you, Halise, are important.” He took another step toward her, forcing her to tilt her head up a bit to look him in the eye. Compromising position.

Halise let a laugh puff out of her. “Not important. Just doing my job, like my coworkers, who I seemed to have lost incidentally.” She deliberately looked away from him to scan the room again. The feeling of his attentive gaze seared into her temple, cheek, and neck.

He chided her with three clicks of his tongue. “No, Halise. You’re a hero to the city of Denerim—to all of Ferelden, really. If I had a hundred people like you, I imagine there would be no criminals left.”

“You do,” she replied plainly. If he was flirting with her, she needed to let him know as gently as possible that it was all business between them. “You have a few hundred more like me, actually. The deputies of the Ferelden District Attorney’s Office are all committed to—”

“No, no,” he interrupted again. Warm fingers pulled her left hand up between their bodies, palm arched skyward under the firm press of his left thumb. He brought her spoiled palm too close to his face—much too close—and examined it critically for a moment. Compromising position. “No, Halise, none like you. You’ve bled for the people of Ferelden.” His tone had softened substantially. With his right hand he brushed the hair away from the thin scar on her neck. A hard blush flooded her face as he eyed the marred flesh. Compromising position. “More than once. But here you are, still going after a dangerous criminal who’s tried to kill you twice. You’re a credit to your profession, Halise, and I for one, am in your debt.”

A thick swallow made its way down her throat. He was making things…difficult. “Well, thank you, Alistair,” she managed without stammering. “I appreciate the compliment. But I think it’s about time I find my friends.” A rather curt smile found its way onto her lips, less out of irritation than nerves.

“Well you’ve certainly found one here,” Alistair quipped with a chuckle. “If you wouldn’t mind posing for one last picture?”

I’m sure you’ve gotten enough pictures to last both of us a lifetime. “Sure.”

The mayor released Halise’s hand as they turned to face the photographer whose camera had been whirring away the entire time. Just as relief washed over her that she’d soon be free of the confusing feelings he was stirring in her gut, his hand slipped around her waist, holding her close while he leaned his head down beside hers. She knew he could feel hold in a deep breath as she smiled for the photo. How could he not?

Photo-op finally over, he turned to her and murmured, “Sincerely, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.” A small, rough piece of cardstock scraped up her palm, her thumb instinctively gripping it against her forefinger. Those eyes, warm as the desert they resembled, burned into her, but she held them to hers in a kind of defiance—her last stand.

“Thank you,” she purred, letting her red lips curl into a smirk at her pause, “Alistair.” She let his name roll around on her tongue, tasting it, savoring it—at least that was what she hoped he thought she was doing. She only wanted to show him two could play his game. Maybe throw him off a bit.

Without waiting to revel in his reaction, Halise turned her back on him, walking away toward the bar she’d spotted on her way in and brushing past Vivienne on her way. A strange satisfaction pumped through her bloodstream. She wasn’t even entirely sure why, but the entire interaction had been somewhat invigorating. It readied her to face the rest of the evening head on. She didn’t even look at the business card he’d slipped into her hand until she knew she was well out of eyeshot. Of course, he’d written a cellphone number on it before the evening had even begun. He had those ready. Well, at least one.

She snapped open her clutch and dropped in the card just before she reached the bar. Mercifully, every man from her office was waiting at the bar—and Sera. Cullen had his back turned to her at first, though he turned to face her as she approached, scotch in hand. Damn, did he look good in a tux. The single-button black jacket with the barely shimmering silken lapel sat perfectly on his frame, the hint of his musculature just slightly visible with the bend of his elbow. A white pocket square peeked out of his breast pocket.

Halise beamed at him, but his answering expression was nearly unreadable. For a moment, anyway. His autumnal eyes traced her from top to bottom and back again, darkening with every little twitch. His Adam’s apple bobbed slowly in a heavy swallow, his temples pulsing as his jaw clenched and unclenched. His hungry stare stopped below her throat, but above her breasts. Ah. He noticed her necklace. A nearly invisible tic tugged his eyebrows, marking his recognition of her adornment. When his eyes flicked back up to meet hers, his features melted into something she could only describe as pure love—soft, disbelieving eyes, parted lips raised into a tiny smile, brows creased up as though he was worried she didn’t remember what she was wearing on her neck.

“Halise,” Cullen murmured once she was within earshot, standing a barely respectable distance from him. “You look…I…You look…” She chewed at the inside of her lip, flattered even more that she’d stunned him into speechlessness.

“Ravishing?” Dorian filled in.

“Gorgeous?” Varric tried.

“Beautiful?” Solas chipped in.

“Lovely?” Iron Bull added.

“Hot!” Sera interjected.

“Shh,” Cole admonished all of them. “You’re not helping!” His airy voice made his irritation and subsequent silent encouragement that much more adorable. The pregnant pause that followed his warning had everyone’s eyes locked on Halise’s awestruck boyfriend.

“Breathtaking,” Cullen sighed, one of the warmest smiles she’d ever seen spreading over his lips. His scar crinkled up, reminding her how much she wanted to kiss those lips. But she couldn’t. Not then. Appearances had to be kept up amidst the roomful of Denerim socialites and foreign dignitaries. Bullshit. All of it.

“Well said, Curly.” Varric clapped Cullen on the back, the sound and sensation of it knocking the lovers back into reality. This wasn’t a fairy tale. Halise’s dress wouldn’t disintegrate into rags at the stroke of midnight, their limos wouldn’t transform into pumpkins, and she wouldn’t have to leave behind a glass slipper for him to find her the next morning—though she might drop the rest of her clothes if the evening continued as well as she hoped.

However, things seldom went as she hoped.

*****

Cullen still couldn’t believe it. His girlfriend, the woman who loved him and whom he loved more than air itself, was, unquestionably, the most beautiful thing in the entire massive hall. She was fire and ice and hardness and softness, and he’d meant it when he told her she was breathtaking. He’d stopped breathing when his eyes caught her coming toward him. She’d stolen the very oxygen from his lungs, and he wanted her to keep it. He only wished he had more to give.

And around her neck was the thing that made her more beautiful than even he could fathom. Not because it sparkled or glittered—in point of fact, it did neither—but because she’d kept it. A gold sovereign with long dead Prime Minister Calenhad’s profile stamped on it hung from a sturdy gold chain, attached with a thick setting she’d had affixed to it not long after he gave it to her. But that was nearly eight years ago. She’d kept it, and she wore it in all her finery that night, uncaring for anyone’s opinion of it but theirs. Maker, but he loved her so much.

His eyes were locked on her even as she ordered a ginger ale, taking the tumbler delicately and sipping from the black straw carefully to avoid mussing her red lipstick. He would take care of that later. Several times, if the night went as planned.

As if the Maker heard his thoughts and laughed, the woman they’d met at Mr. Hawke’s office—Vivienne, if he remembered correctly—sauntered up to them. Leliana, Cassandra, and Josephine followed closely behind her, their brows furrowed in obvious concern. “Maker’s breath,” Cullen muttered, bringing his hand to the back of his neck to quell the headache that sprang on him the moment he saw the looks on their faces.

“Ms. Lavellan, a word, if I may?” she asked coolly, her silken voice not doing enough to assuage his consternation.

Halise smiled not unkindly, but there was an edge to it. “Yes, Ms. de Fer?”

“As I’ve just told your colleagues, I overheard a very troubling conversation in the wine cellar a few moments ago.”

“This place has a wine cellar?” Halise asked, her tone one of disbelief. Cullen took a shallow breath to stop himself from laughing, a worthwhile ache settling in his chest.

Vivienne looked unfazed. “Yes,” she answered. “Only the service staff and I were supposed to be down there this evening, but when I went down to retrieve a bottle for some of Mayor Theirin’s more generous donors, it seems I stumbled into an assassination plot.”

Halise shut her eyes, shook her head, and blew out a slow breath. “An…assassination plot?” Her eyelids fluttered back open. “Seriously? It’s not against me again, is it? I’ve had just about enough of people trying to kill me lately.”

“No, my dear. No one here has any designs on your life this evening as far as I’ve heard. It appears the intended target is Prime Minister Celene Valmont.” Cullen’s attention was turned from the woman when he heard Dorian nearly choke on his drink. He had a bad habit of drinking while hearing distressing news, apparently.

“So why bring this to us?” Halise asked, gesturing with open hands to the plethora of prosecutors and investigators around them. “We’re from the DA’s office. We’re not cops. Well, except Iron Bull, but this is waaay outside his jurisdiction. So why us? Didn’t you alert the security detail?”

It was a rather obvious question. Cullen wondered the same thing. He’d been patted down on his way in, as had everyone else. The ladies’ bags had been opened and searched. On the whole, the evening had promised to be nonviolent until that very moment.

Vivienne’s chin lifted ever-so-slightly in a subtle demonstration of her indignance. “I have informed Mayor Theirin’s security detail, but they have other matters to attend to this evening, and without more proof than a few overheard words, they were not inclined to take the threat seriously. As for Prime Minister Valmont’s security, I have concerns that some of them may be involved, given the person I overheard discussing it.”

“And who, pray tell, was that?” Halise was not stowing her agitation. Rather, she was letting it emanate from her like a venomous aura, ready to strike at the first person to misstep into her wrath.

“The Prime Minister’s favorite cousin and secretary, Florienne de Chalons. I heard her on her cellphone talking to someone about ‘Celene’s interference,’ and ‘putting an end to her so someone less apt to notice’ could take over.”

“Great,” Sera muttered. “One night I’m not strapped. Shit suits. Crap.”

Halise closed her eyes with a sigh, tapping at her forehead with the nails on her index and middle fingers in an odd rhythm. “And Prime Minister Mac Tir isn’t here yet?”

“She phoned earlier to let the mayor know that she would be running quite late this evening due to an unforeseen emergency.” Cullen watched Vivienne’s eyes scan their reticent group, noting the briefest flash of hope.

He considered how someone might attempt an assassination in a room full of armed private security if they didn’t want to die themselves. Not with a gun or knife, certainly. That would draw too much attention. A bomb, perhaps? He glanced around the ballroom. There would be a high volume of casualties if that was the case, and if Ms. Valmont’s secretary slash cousin was the perpetrator, it would be unlikely she’d be able to leave the Prime Minister’s side long enough to blow her up. Historically, the majority of female premeditated murderers were poisoners. It would be easy enough to do, especially when she was likely expected to handle much of her cousin’s food and drink for the evening.

Cullen realized that Halise had been staring at him, her head canted at a slight angle, eyes lively, the inside of her plush lip drawn between her teeth. She took a step toward him, the closest they’d been all evening. He tried desperately not to focus on her intoxicating scent or the swell of her breasts under her gown. Wildly inappropriate, he thought, giving his head a much needed shake.

The dark makeup around her eyes made them luminesce when she looked up at him. “You’re thinking poison too, aren’t you?” she murmured.

He tried not to let his shock shine through. She was his match, in every way. “I am.”

“It’s the most logical way,” they said, nearly in unison. Her red lips pressed together in an attempt to hide her smile, but Cullen let his show, ignoring the blood sneaking up his cheeks.

The sole of Halise’s sparkling shoe made a scraping noise against the smooth floor when she pivoted back toward Vivienne. “Okay,” she began. “So we need a motive. Is this a hit or a frame-up for someone else? Or does it have something to do with relations with Ferelden? You said Florienne mentioned Celene interfering in something. Has she been involved in anything big lately, like, I don’t know, being the poster child for some big federal operation in Orlais or something?”

Vivienne’s expression didn’t even shift as she considered Halise’s inquiries. Her gray eyes bore the only signs that she was thinking of the answers. A string quartet that had begun to play only a few moments before sounded through the hall around them, already drawing couples to the dancefloor. Cullen listened for the melody only to be jolted back to reality when the woman finally answered.

“Relations with Ferelden have always been a bit strained, but I can’t see any reason that would be a motive this evening. No one has expressed any desire to break the peace between the two countries recently. As for what Prime Minister Valmont has been involved in of late, the only things that come to mind are her pushback against Elvhen equality—I am sorry for that, incidentally—” Cullen watched Halise’s jaw clench. “—and her national drug enforcement reform proposal that would make the Orlesian borders much harder to cross.”

“Shit,” Halise blurted. “Sorry. Does Florienne have any ties at all with anyone pushing for Elvhen equality?”

“None that I know of. In fact, she’s been very outspoken against it.”

“Fenedhis,” she spat, casting a glance over her shoulder at Cullen before turning back to the aloof woman. “Orlais has been having problems with Tevinter cartels smuggling narcotics through the country from the ports and the northern border, hasn’t it?” A nod from the sly woman drew an impatient sigh out of Halise’s nose. “And let me guess, the Deputy Prime Minister—who is that, by the way?”

“Florienne’s brother, Gaspard de Chalons.”

Halise barked out a humorless laugh. “Of course. Let me guess,” she continued, “he’s much less focused on border security than…oh, say, the foreign war in the Free Marches?” Her hand waved about in a series of flippant gestures.

Cullen watched Vivienne’s face shift for the first time. Understanding or terror widened her eyes. “He is.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic. More Tevinter bullshit.” Halise looked over her shoulder—and Cullen’s—right at Dorian. “Eventually, you’re going to have to call your father and remind him to straighten out your fucked up motherland.”

“And you wonder why I left,” the olive-skinned Tevinter replied, his tone sardonic and utterly unamused. Cullen looked on as Iron Bull whispered something into his fiancé’s ear, bringing a tiny smile to his face.

Halise’s shoulders pulled back, flexing under her porcelain skin as she righted her posture with a slow, even breath. “Alright, Ms. de Fer. I think it’s time you introduced me to the Prime Minister.”

*****

Cliffhanger!

Please don't curse my name! ^_^;; Here's Halise's dress! It's part of Galia Lahav's Le Reves Bohemians collection!

#cullen #cullen rutherford #commander cullen #cullen x inquisitor #cullen x lavellan #cullavellan #halise lavellan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #da:i #fanfic #fic #lavellan #modern au #trial by fire

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gordonwilliamsweb · 5 years ago

Text

Reopening In The COVID Era: How To Adapt To A New Normal

As many states begin to reopen — most without meeting the thresholds recommended by the White House — a new level of COVID-19 risk analysis begins for Americans.

Should I go to the beach? What about the hair salon? A sit-down restaurant meal? Visit Mom on Mother’s Day?

States are responding to the tremendous economic cost of the pandemic and people’s pent-up desire to be “normal” again. But public health experts remain cautious. In many areas, they note, COVID cases — and deaths — are still on the rise, and some fear new surges will follow the easing of restrictions.

“Reopening is not back to normal. It is trying to find ways to allow people to get back out to do things they want to do, and business to do business,” said Dr. Marcus Plescia, chief medical officer at the Association of State and Territorial Health Officials. “We can’t pretend the virus has gone away. The vast majority of the population is still susceptible.”

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So far, state rules vary. But they involve a basic theme.

“They are making assumptions that people will use common sense and good public health practice when they go out,” said Dr. Georges Benjamin, executive director with the American Public Health Association.

As states start to reopen, people will have to weigh the risk versus benefit of getting out more, along with their own tolerance for uncertainty. The bottom line, health experts say, is people should continue to be vigilant: Maintain distance, wear masks, wash your hands — and take responsibility for your own health and that of those around you.

“It’s clearly too early, in my mind, in many places to pull the stay-at-home rules,” said Benjamin. “But, to the extent that is going to happen, we have to give people advice to do it safely. No one should interpret my comments as being overly supportive of doing it, but if you’re going to do it, you have to be careful.”

An added caveat: All advice applies to people at normal risk of weathering the disease. Those 60 or older and people with underlying health conditions or compromised immune systems should continue staying home.

“Folks who are at higher risk of having a more severe reaction have to continue to be very careful and limit contact with other people,” Plescia said.

So, should I go to the beach?

There’s nothing inherently risky about the beach, said Benjamin. But, again, “if you can, avoid crowds,” he said. “Have as few people around you as possible.”

Maintain that 6-foot distance, even in the water.

“If you are standing close and interacting, there is a chance they could be sick and they may not know it and you could catch it,” Plescia said. “The whole 6-foot distance is a good thing to remember going forward.”

Still, “one thing about the beach or anywhere outside is that there is a lot of good air movement, which is very different than standing in a crowded subway car,” he said.

Even so, recent images of packed beaches and parks raise questions about whether people are able or willing to continue heeding distancing directives.

But if we’re all wearing masks, do we really need to stay 6 feet apart?

Yes, for two reasons. First, while masks can reduce the amount of droplets expelled from the mouth and nose, they aren’t perfect.

Droplets from sneezing, coughing or possibly even talking are considered the main way the coronavirus is transmitted, from landing either on another person or surface. Those who touch that surface may be at risk of infection if they then touch their face, especially the eyes or mouth. “By wearing a mask, I reduce the amount of particles I express out of my mouth,” said Benjamin. “I try to protect you from me, but it also protects me from you.”

And, second, masks don’t protect your eyes. Since the virus can enter the body through the eyes, standing further apart also reduces that risk.

Should I visit Mom on Mother’s Day?

This is a complex choice for many families. Obviously, if Mom is in a nursing home or assisted living, the answer is clearly no, as most care facilities are closed to visitors because the virus has been devastating that population.

There’s still risk beyond such venues. Data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention shows 8 out of 10 reported deaths from the coronavirus are among those 65 or older. Underlying conditions, such as heart or lung disease and diabetes, appear to play a role, and older adults are more likely to have such conditions.

So, what if Mom is healthy? There’s no easy answer, public health experts say, because how the virus affects any individual is unpredictable. And visitors may be infected and not know it. An estimated 25% of people show no or few symptoms.

“A virtual gathering is a much safer alternative this year,” said Benjamin.

But if your family insists on an in-person Mother’s Day after weighing Mom’s health (and Dad’s, too, if he’s there), “everyone in the family should do a health check before gathering,” he said. “No one with any COVID symptoms or a fever should participate.”

How prevalent COVID is in your region is also a consideration, experts say, as is how much contact you and your other family members have had with other people.

If you do visit Mom, wear masks and refrain from hugging, kissing or other close contact, Benjamin said.

My hair is a mess. What about going to the salon?

Again, no clear answer. As salons and barbershops reopen in some states, they are taking precautions.

States and professional associations are recommending requiring reservations, limiting the number of customers inside the shop at a given time, installing Plexiglas barriers between stations, cleaning the chairs, sinks and other surfaces often, and having stylists and customers wear masks. Ask what steps your salon is taking.

“Employees should stay home if they are sick or in contact with someone who is sick,” said Dr. Amanda Castel, professor of epidemiology at Milken Institute School of Public Health at the George Washington University. “Also, employers should make sure they don’t have everyone congregating in the kitchen or break room.”

Some salons or barbers are cutting hair outside, she noted, which may reduce the risk because of better ventilation. Salons should also keep track of the customers they see, just in case they need to contact them later, should there be a reason to suspect a client or stylist had become infected, Castel said.

Consider limiting chitchat during the cut, said Plescia, as talking in close proximity may increase your risk, although “it feels a little rude,” he admitted.

What if your stylist is coughing and sneezing?

“I would leave immediately,” he said.

What about dining at a restaurant?

Many states and the CDC have recommendations for restaurants that limit capacity — some states say 25% — in addition to setting tables well apart, using disposable menus and single-serve condiments, and requiring wait staff to wear masks.

“That’s the kind of thing that does help reduce the chance of spread of infection,” Plescia said.

If your favorite eatery is opening, call to ask what precautions are in place. Make a reservation and “be thoughtful about who you are having dinner with,” said Plescia. Household members are one thing, but “getting into closer physical contact with friends is something people should be cautious about.”

Overall, decide how comfortable you are with the concept.

“If you’re going to go to a restaurant just to sit around and worry, then you might as well do takeout,” he said.

And travel?

Consider your options and whether you really need to go, say experts.

Driving and staying in a hotel may be an option for some people.

If hotels are adequately cleaned between guests, “you could make that work,” said Plescia. Bring cleaning wipes and even your own pillows. Again, though, “if you’re going to see an elderly parent, you don’t want to contract something on the way and give it to them.”

Regarding air travel — airlines are taking steps, such as doing deep cleaning between flights. Fresh and recirculated air goes through special HEPA filters. While there is little specific research yet on the coronavirus and air travel, studies on other respiratory and infectious diseases have generally concluded the overall risk is low, except for people within two rows of the infected person. But a case involving an earlier type of coronavirus seemed to indicate wider possible spread across several rows.

Maintaining distance on the plane and in the boarding process is key.

“Wear a mask on the plane,” said Benjamin.

And plan ahead. How prevalent is the coronavirus in the areas you are traveling to and from? Are there any requirements that you self-isolate upon arrival? How will you get to and from the airport while minimizing your proximity to others?

But if it’s not essential, you might want to think twice right now.

“People who absolutely don’t have to travel should avoid doing it,” said Plescia.

Worship services are important to me. What precautions should be considered?

The distance rule applies as houses of worship consider reopening.

“As much as you can within religious rules, try to avoid contact,” said Benjamin.

He is not giving any advice on Holy Communion, saying that is up to religious leaders. But, he noted, “drinking from the same cup raises the risk if a person is sick or items are touched by anyone who is sick.”

Finally, keep in mind that much is being learned about the virus every day, from treatments to side effects to how it spreads.

“My own personal approach is, try to play it on the cautious side a bit longer,” said Plescia.

Castel agreed.

“We need a little more time to fully understand how COVID-19 works and more time to ramp up our testing, find treatments and hopefully a vaccine,” she said. “We all have social distancing fatigue. But we can continue to save lives by doing this.”

Reopening In The COVID Era: How To Adapt To A New Normal published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

0 notes

stephenmccull · 5 years ago

Text

Reopening In The COVID Era: How To Adapt To A New Normal

As many states begin to reopen — most without meeting the thresholds recommended by the White House — a new level of COVID-19 risk analysis begins for Americans.

Should I go to the beach? What about the hair salon? A sit-down restaurant meal? Visit Mom on Mother’s Day?

Email Sign-Up

Subscribe to KHN’s free Morning Briefing.

Please confirm your email address below:

So far, state rules vary. But they involve a basic theme.

“Folks who are at higher risk of having a more severe reaction have to continue to be very careful and limit contact with other people,” Plescia said.

So, should I go to the beach?

There’s nothing inherently risky about the beach, said Benjamin. But, again, “if you can, avoid crowds,” he said. “Have as few people around you as possible.”

Maintain that 6-foot distance, even in the water.

Still, “one thing about the beach or anywhere outside is that there is a lot of good air movement, which is very different than standing in a crowded subway car,” he said.

Even so, recent images of packed beaches and parks raise questions about whether people are able or willing to continue heeding distancing directives.

But if we’re all wearing masks, do we really need to stay 6 feet apart?

Yes, for two reasons. First, while masks can reduce the amount of droplets expelled from the mouth and nose, they aren’t perfect.

And, second, masks don’t protect your eyes. Since the virus can enter the body through the eyes, standing further apart also reduces that risk.

Should I visit Mom on Mother’s Day?

“A virtual gathering is a much safer alternative this year,” said Benjamin.

How prevalent COVID is in your region is also a consideration, experts say, as is how much contact you and your other family members have had with other people.

If you do visit Mom, wear masks and refrain from hugging, kissing or other close contact, Benjamin said.

My hair is a mess. What about going to the salon?

Again, no clear answer. As salons and barbershops reopen in some states, they are taking precautions.

Consider limiting chitchat during the cut, said Plescia, as talking in close proximity may increase your risk, although “it feels a little rude,” he admitted.

What if your stylist is coughing and sneezing?

“I would leave immediately,” he said.

What about dining at a restaurant?

“That’s the kind of thing that does help reduce the chance of spread of infection,” Plescia said.

Overall, decide how comfortable you are with the concept.

“If you’re going to go to a restaurant just to sit around and worry, then you might as well do takeout,” he said.

And travel?

Consider your options and whether you really need to go, say experts.

Driving and staying in a hotel may be an option for some people.

Maintaining distance on the plane and in the boarding process is key.

“Wear a mask on the plane,” said Benjamin.

But if it’s not essential, you might want to think twice right now.

“People who absolutely don’t have to travel should avoid doing it,” said Plescia.

Worship services are important to me. What precautions should be considered?

The distance rule applies as houses of worship consider reopening.

“As much as you can within religious rules, try to avoid contact,” said Benjamin.

Finally, keep in mind that much is being learned about the virus every day, from treatments to side effects to how it spreads.

“My own personal approach is, try to play it on the cautious side a bit longer,” said Plescia.

Castel agreed.

Reopening In The COVID Era: How To Adapt To A New Normal published first on https://smartdrinkingweb.weebly.com/

0 notes

dinafbrownil · 5 years ago

Text

Reopening In The COVID Era: How To Adapt To A New Normal

As many states begin to reopen — most without meeting the thresholds recommended by the White House — a new level of COVID-19 risk analysis begins for Americans.

Should I go to the beach? What about the hair salon? A sit-down restaurant meal? Visit Mom on Mother’s Day?

Email Sign-Up

Subscribe to KHN’s free Morning Briefing.

Please confirm your email address below:

So far, state rules vary. But they involve a basic theme.

“Folks who are at higher risk of having a more severe reaction have to continue to be very careful and limit contact with other people,” Plescia said.

So, should I go to the beach?

There’s nothing inherently risky about the beach, said Benjamin. But, again, “if you can, avoid crowds,” he said. “Have as few people around you as possible.”

Maintain that 6-foot distance, even in the water.

Still, “one thing about the beach or anywhere outside is that there is a lot of good air movement, which is very different than standing in a crowded subway car,” he said.

Even so, recent images of packed beaches and parks raise questions about whether people are able or willing to continue heeding distancing directives.

But if we’re all wearing masks, do we really need to stay 6 feet apart?

Yes, for two reasons. First, while masks can reduce the amount of droplets expelled from the mouth and nose, they aren’t perfect.

And, second, masks don’t protect your eyes. Since the virus can enter the body through the eyes, standing further apart also reduces that risk.

Should I visit Mom on Mother’s Day?

“A virtual gathering is a much safer alternative this year,” said Benjamin.

How prevalent COVID is in your region is also a consideration, experts say, as is how much contact you and your other family members have had with other people.

If you do visit Mom, wear masks and refrain from hugging, kissing or other close contact, Benjamin said.

My hair is a mess. What about going to the salon?

Again, no clear answer. As salons and barbershops reopen in some states, they are taking precautions.

Consider limiting chitchat during the cut, said Plescia, as talking in close proximity may increase your risk, although “it feels a little rude,” he admitted.

What if your stylist is coughing and sneezing?

“I would leave immediately,” he said.

What about dining at a restaurant?

“That’s the kind of thing that does help reduce the chance of spread of infection,” Plescia said.

Overall, decide how comfortable you are with the concept.

“If you’re going to go to a restaurant just to sit around and worry, then you might as well do takeout,” he said.

And travel?

Consider your options and whether you really need to go, say experts.

Driving and staying in a hotel may be an option for some people.

Maintaining distance on the plane and in the boarding process is key.

“Wear a mask on the plane,” said Benjamin.

But if it’s not essential, you might want to think twice right now.

“People who absolutely don’t have to travel should avoid doing it,” said Plescia.

Worship services are important to me. What precautions should be considered?

The distance rule applies as houses of worship consider reopening.

“As much as you can within religious rules, try to avoid contact,” said Benjamin.

Finally, keep in mind that much is being learned about the virus every day, from treatments to side effects to how it spreads.

“My own personal approach is, try to play it on the cautious side a bit longer,” said Plescia.

Castel agreed.

from Updates By Dina https://khn.org/news/reopening-in-the-covid-era-how-to-adapt-to-a-new-normal/

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savagegardenforever · 6 years ago

Text

TO THE MOON AND BACK Rolling Stones Magazine - Australia june 1998

All Darren Hayes could think was "This is not happening!" It was a mantra the Savage Garden vocalist kept chanting to himself, but it wasn't taking. The nascent pop star went to take a sip of his Powerade, but then the Edge cracked a joke and Hayes involuntarily laughed, spitting purple liquid all over himself. Supermodel Helena Christensen giggled as the singer coughed and spluttered. The rain clouds were clearing in the aftermath of the Sydeny leg of U2's PopMart tour, and Hayes had climbed the various levels of celebrity patronage - the shitkicker VIP tent; the serious VIP tent where Midnight Oil were rubbing shoulders with Keanu Reeves and Samuel L. Jackson - to here: U2's dressing room, "The Bunker". He was on his own. The other half of Savage Garden, the calm, assured keyboardist Daniel Jones, was back on level two. "This is not happening! This is not happening!" he told himself. When Bono's assistant bought Hayes in, he walked past Adam Clayton and had to remind himself to be cool. But f**k it, there he was, sitting there in the corner wearing a boxing hood and those black wraparound shades: Bono himself. The Fly, McPhisto, the man who wrote "One", the man who'd just left 50,000 people enthralled. Darren Hayes's goldstar was sitting a few metres away. It was happening. Hayes was dripping wet. The Powerade had simply added to the downpour he'd already stood through, dancing at the tip of the catwalk, alongside the other true believers, lost in the music. He'd had the chance to meet Bono the previous August, when PopMart was in Los Angeles. Hayes had been transfixed bu the show but decided not to go backstage. He didn't want to be the millionth hand Bono shaked, another beaming face to be forgotten. It was different now. Over the last year Savage Garden had sold approximatley four million albums around the world - they were on the course to double that - including a phenomenal 800,000 in Australia alone. They'd scooped the 1997 ARIA Awards and had a number one single in America with "Truly Madly Deeply", the first Australian act to do so since INXS with "Need You Tonight" in 1987. But Darren Hayes didn't want to meet Bono because he felt successful. He would never dare compare Savage Garden's achievements to U2. No, Darren Hayes wanted to meet Bono because he was starting to realise the baggage that came with the success. Savage Garden were in the midst of a sold-out national tour and he was starting to feel like he had nothing more to give, that he'd been stretched so thin he would either break in two or simply dissipate. A few nights before, in Tasmania, he'd been asking himself before a show if he could go on, if not tonight, then next week, or next month in New Zealand, or the month after that in Asia, or the looming months beyond that in Europe and America. He was wondering why they'd become a teen sensation, if he could keep his marriage out of the public eye. All of these thoughts were racing through Darren Hayes's mind. And then Bono was looking at him, gesturing for him to come over and talk ...

Let it be said again: Savage Garden are a phenomenon. Together with the Spice Girls they have spearheaded the return of pop music to the top of musical charts around the world, giving focus to the desires and needs of a generation of teenage, on the whole female, fans. But behind all this is two young men from suburban Brisbane. Polite, inquistive young men who worry a lot about what's happening to them, how they should handle success, how they can prove that their brand of pop is one which will mature and grow, which will reach for resonance and a sense of belief. When I first meet Savage Garden they are preparing to have thier photo taken. It is a Saturday afternoon and Savage Garden are standing in a Sydney hotel suite, looking at clothes, prior to shooting new press shots for America. On the Sunday and Monday, with a show also scheduled on Sunday night, they're to shoot a high-budget clip for the US release of "Break Me Shake Me". Hayes is wearing all black, most noticeably a pair of jeans armour-plated with PVC. With his locks now cropped, his dewy features have lost some of their femininity. He moves around constantly, even if he fights the flu, breaking into snatches of song, delving off into varied topics of conversation without warning. Now he's appraising outfits. "How much is this stuff?" he asks the stylist, who's lacing up Hayes's boots for him. "$290 for the top and $220 for the pants, less 10%," comes the reply. Hayes pauses, then snorts. "Tell 'em to get f**ked," he retorts. Sitting on a bed, patiently having his makeup done, Daniel Jones laughs. The keyboardist is tall and rangy, with blond, spiky hair. Up close, you can see the handful of acne scars which pit the right side of his face. When he smiles, which he does often for someone so observant and low-key, his angular face becomes quite disarming. He watched the PopMart show at the mixing desk, standing beside Helena Christensen. "I said hello and then spent the rest of the show trying to smell her," he notes, grinning broadly. Because they own their very successful records - they only lease them to Roadshow Music in Australia and New Zealand and Sony Music for the rest of the world - Savage Garden have a degree of control most bands can only dream of. "There's not one cent spent, not one colour used on a front cover that we don't approve," Hayes later explains. "It's very comforting." Right now, Savage Garden are working it for photographer Robin Sellick's camera. Hayes is a natural, staring off into the middle distance while standing in the foreground, masking his face in the very definition of broodiness. Jones stands behind him, biding his time for a practice he clearly doesn't place a great deal of faith in (although he's never less than professional). As the shoot moves from hallway to penthouse, Hayes takes front and centre in every shot. "I'm always aware that I'm in the front in every photograph, but it's not because I step in front of him," he says. "Daniel takes two steps back. People just assume I'm an egomaniac." The first album that both Hayes, age 25, and Jones, age 24, bought was Michael Jackson's Thriller. George Michael is a name they both mention with respect. Out in the suburbs of Brisbane both youngsters were pop fanatics, giving vent to their obsessions. Jones was so taken with the video for "Thriller" that he and a friend started digging graves behind his house so they could recreate the video; he even began work on making the famous red jacket. Hayes went one better: he built a paper maché ET and rode around with it in the basket of his bike. But the divergent paths the two took towards Savage Garden illustrate the differences between them. By the time he was 13, Jones was more interested in making music than listening to it. He'd started buying keyboards and sequencers, creating musical beds for songs. On the New Year's Eve of 1989, aged 15, he did his first two gigs back to back, with a covers band, and walked away with $400. He never went back to school after that. Financially astute, by the time he was 17 he owned his own PA, which he regularly loaded in and out of every pub and club in Queensland. "I kind of miss those moments," Jones recalls. "I enjoyed some of those innocent pressures more than these serious ones." Darren Hayes had far more trouble realising his dreams. "My whole life," he declares, "being a singer or performer was all I ever wanted to do." But growing up in one of Brisbane's rougher suburbs didn't make this easy. There's an undercurrent of anger in Hayes when he describes those years, as if he's still upset at how people tried to deny his dreams. "Most people I went to school with had two babies before they were 20. One guy is in jail for armed robbery. Another one died in a car crash while on cocaine. Another one is a pimp. That was the level of my peers. I didn't know a single person who was even a singer. My family weren't that encouraging - which is not a criticism - but my career choice was the most alien thing you could do in my family." Hayes started studying journalism at university, but then threw it in. "My mission was to be a star," he remembers, speaking with an earnestness which can easily veer into melodrama. With his then girlfriend, a fellow Madonna fanatic, the pair auditioned for theatre college. "I got in, she didn't, so I gave it all up for her. And three months later she dumped me. I was gutted." Hayes started a Bachelor of Education majoring in Primary School Teaching, "something I did not have a drop of passion about." Still obsessed with his dreams of fame, he was sitting in a lecture in 1992, reading a Brisbane street paper, when he saw a "Singer Wanted" ad for a local covers band, Red Edge. Replying to the ad he found himself in a band room, being stared down by Jones and the rest of the band. Red Edge didn't know any of Hayes's favourites, while the prospective vocalist ("I always knew I could sing, I knew I had soul") hated their Oz rock/top 40 repertoire. He sang a piece from Little Shop of Horrors, and even though his voice broke halfway through, he was in. It was not an easy adjustment. Hayes is not technically inclined, and he perversely refused to learn the words to the band's set, relying on lyrics sheets instead ("I still don't know the words to 'Khe Sanh'," he announces with pride). The experience, he concludes, was "hideous". Hayes is walking down a corridor to a meet and greet. In the lounge, Hayes is joined by Jones, fresh from dinner. Five girls - before some shows the number has been as high as 50 - appear breathless and nervous. There's nothing studied about teen hysteria, it has an immediacy which distances it from the adult world. Savage Garden are comfortable with it. "So, would you like us to sign some stuff?" asks Jones genially. Tickets, CDs and a stuffed bear are produced. Photographs are taken. One of the girls is red in the face because she's not taking in enough oxygen. "You all go to school, don't you?" asks Hayes. The girls indicate yes. "Well let me give you a lesson about school. All the kids that were popular end up on the dole with babies. All the nerds end up pop stars." "Hey!" retorts Jones. "I was never a nerd." "Darren is brutally honest, even to himself," answers Jones when asked to describe his bandmate. "Sometimes he's his own worst critic. He's so honest that anything he's feeling comes to the surface, which really helps clear the air in the type of intense relationship we have. He reminds me of a kid, not in a bad way, but in his naivity." Asked the same question, Hayes replies, "He's probably the most intelligent person I've ever met in my life. He doesn't say anything unless he's thought it through and it's right. It might take him two or three days, but he'll come to you and say, 'I think you look really insecure when you do that. I'm just being honest.' And you'll go red because he's absolutley right. Intelligent. Calm and confident. He's devoid of insecurity." When U2 brought the Zoo TV tour to Australia in 1993, Red Edge was scheduled to play a residency in Alice Springs. Darren Hayes didn't have to think for long. He left the band. But the other thing he was pondering was writing songs with Daniel Jones. The two had slowly developed a rapport, and Hayes was impressed that Jones and several other band members already had a music publishing deal. The actual songs, however, he hated. "They were watered down 1927," he laments. "It wasn't really my thing," says Jones. "But then I hooked up with Darren and left that band." The pair began to experiment. Happily working by himself at home, Jones would create the musical backing, Hayes would suggest refinements and then add his vocals. The fourth song they wrote together was their astral retooling of "She's Leaving Home", "To The Moon & Back," and afterwards they knew they were on to something. "I turned around," says Jones, "and said, 'This is as good as anything out there. It's as good as U2, or a Seal song - the benchmarks.' That's when we became really serious." Savage Garden's five song demo - the duo envisaged themselves as a studio project and were heavily influenced by U2's Atchung Baby - was well-recieved, although the pair were disheartened by the amount of music industry players whose first queries to them were, "What do you look like?" and "Can you dance?" The duo eventually signed with veteran manager John Woodruff (Baby Animals, Diesel, Icehouse) in 1995 and he remains the linchpin of the Savage Garden organisation and their business partner. It was a relationship forged in adversity. Because they couldn't get a record deal (whether because no one could see the band's potential or because no one was willing to give Woodruff a deal for his own record label is unclear), Woodruff self-financed the album, bringing the pair to Sydney for eight months to record at the home studio of veteran producer Charles Fisher )Hoodoo Gurus, 1927). Hayes first choice for a producer was George Michael. Living in a Kings Cross Hotel on a diet of noodles and missing their families, Savage Garden struggled to finish their album. Their doubts were constant, their aims shifting each month. Woodruff licensed the album to start-up label Roadshow Music, whose early signings had been anything but auspicious. Their first single, "I Want You" - a Hayes tale about an extraordinarily vivid dream where he met and fell in love with someone so deeply that when he lost them upon waking he became depressed - was released in June 1996. "What makes me laugh about our record is that we couldn't get a deal, so we signed to the joke of the industry, Roadshow," Hayes explains. "We had dodgy artwork, dodgy videos. We had trouble getting airplay at the start. Basically, we fulfilled every criteria to be unearthed by Triple J." [Triple J is an Australian youth radio station that plays alternative music] "The day I realised how commercial we were was the day I realised that Triple J didn't playlist 'I Want You'. I was thinking that it would be an indie-pop hit that they'd play. Then it was like, 'Actually, you're the most played band on the Austereo network.'" He pauses, then smiles. "And I'll take that any day." The band did their first in-store appearance as "I Want You" climbed to number three on the charts. "All these 13 and 14-year-olds turned up, screaming 'Darren! and 'Daniel!'" remembers Jones. "I was like, "Oh f**k!' I didn't want to go through that." By the time "Moon & Back" and then "Truly Madly Deeply" had gone to number one, to be followed by their self-titled debut album in March 1997, Savage Garden had acclimatised to their new surroundings. Hayes and Jones make no bones about making commercial music, but under that banner they see a world of subtle differences. "I think the best pop is the one that shoots from the hip," asserts Hayes. "What troubles me sometimes is that we've always wanted to be completely true to ourselves, but people always assume that since we make pop music it has to be calculated and all about marketing. It was never that. There are a lot of pop bands and vocal bands which just aren't real. They're not coming from a real place." "What's so magical about the record we made is that it's so innocent and earnest. It went out there and said this is what we want to be. We didn't care about hip or cool. It was unassuming. I think we write really good pop songs, we have a great ear for a melody and we have a directness when it comes to emotion." Savage Garden's show is mildly choreographed, well-designed and given to U2 homages (which Hayes happily admits to) that the young audience (seeded with the over-30s brought in by "Truly Madly Deeply") scream along to. With just one album and a handful of b-sides to draw on, there are noticeable low points. But live, Savage Garden are a guitar band. Jones plays more guitar than keyboards, while their stage sound is fleshed out by a rhythm section, extra guitarist and backing singers. "I think we're a pop band desperatley wanting to be a rock & roll band and I think that's what's funny about us," claims Hayes. The strangest moment is when Hayes, who has so much desire and extreme emotion projected at him from an audience he works relentlessly, dedicates a song to his wife, Colby. Fans want their pop stars to be free and magical, not married with a home in the Brisbane suburbs. Hayes is vocal on every topic bar one: his wife of three years. "I think it's strange to be young and married," he says, choosing his words carefully. "Imagine being young and married and a pop star. It's tough. We refuse to be an example pf a happy marriage to anyone. The reason I very rarely talk about Colby or do a Women's Weekly spread about our new glamour house is that it's hard enough being married without being a celebrity couple. When you're happy together they love you, but Jesus, when there's problems they don't care, they tear you to bits. And I'm not ready for that." Both Hayes and Jones (who is also in a long-term relationship) decided from the start not to discuss their private lives with the media. On their first tour in May 1997 a tabloid journalist who wanted to follow up his interview with Hayes with a quick phone chat was directed by Woodruff to call him on his mobile: "His wife Colby has it." "The next day he writes some article in the paper: 'Exclusive: Singer Tries to Hide Wife!'" spits Hayes, recalling the spectre of John Lennon, who really did keep his first marriage a secret under management orders. "When did I ever say I wasn't married? When did I ever say I wanted to talk about my private life? What the f**k does it matter? Is my music different because I have a wedding ring?"

For one second I knew what it was like to be Savage Garden. After their solf-out show I leave the Entertainment Centre. Their road manager directs me out the door to the car park. As soon as I open it the 500 fans awaiting the band's departure scream in anticipation. It is electrifying, even a little scary. But when they see it's only an anonymous figure, 500 fans go, "Ohhhhh." Pop music is a cruel, cruel mistress. Last October, the flight to Sydney for the ARIAs, where they would clean up 10 awards, Daniel Jones told Darren Hayes that he couldn't take it anymore and that he was ready to leave Savage Garden. The music, which is all Jones really cared about, had been overtaken by promotion. Instead of being allowed to hide away in a recording studio, Jones was giving 40 interviews a day in America, traipsing across Europe miming on TV shows in every country. "It was pissing me off. Music was becoming more about talking about it than actually making it. I had to get back to the studio. I enjoy it and I miss it. The whole moster size of this machine takes it away from you," he notes. "The whole pep talk I now give video directors and photographers is that I don't want to be up the front. I've drawn a line for myself, and that's the compromise I had to make to deal with being in this band. Now everyone understands what it is about these two people. One wants to be here, the other wants to be here." He holds up his hands to indicate the difference, the gap between them is a metre wide. "That's the deal we made around the time of the ARIAs, but to be honest I think I've always done it," claims Hayes later. "I've always been lumbered with it because everyone assumes I love it. And lately I'm the one saying I want out, I can't do this anymore. If we ever broke up it would be because one of us wanted to be George Michael and one of us wanted to be Dave Stewart." Right now though, the topic the pair are focusing on is their next album. "We matured faster than the album," Jones says. In their mid-20s now, they're not always comfortable playing the songs they wrote as 19 and 20-year-olds. At the end of their concert Hayes tells the cheering crowd, "We have to go away now and think it all up again." "It's seriously not about chart position," clarifies Hayes. "I want a career, so if it sells half as well as this one, thank you, I'll take that. I believe a career is about ups and downs. It shouldn't be a steady gradient. The next record has to be true to itself. It won't be a knee-jerk reaction to critics. To turn around and make a Portishead album would be a big mistake. We'll f**k around with technology, we'll f**k around with drumbeats. We're courting William Orbit at the moment, because we heard the new Madonna record and I thought, 'I like what you added to that record. You added spice and flavour without taking over.' And that's what we're looking for. We want to grow up a little bit. And we're prepared to do whatever it takes." Darren Hayes was thinking that Bono was a wise old man, a wizard. The icon was talking about life, how he searches every day for new inspiration, music, their show, and Hayes was rapt, once more the little boy in love with a mysterious extra-terrestrial. And then he started to tell Bono how he felt, like a rag doll that had been twisted around too much. How sometimes after a show he considered himself a prosititute because he had to give so much from his soul to every person in the room. Bono leaned closer to Hayes and grabbed his hand, putting it to his chest. Hayes could feel the pulmonary kick of the Irishman's heartbeat. And then he spoke: "As long as the music comes from here," he said, pushing Haye's hand harder against his chest, "then it's going to scream louder than any of the kids will." And for the few seconds that followed, Darren Hayes felt at peace with himself.

#interview #savage garden #darren hayes #daniel jones #1998 #rolling stone

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