#what seems disappointing to me is that not all novels are nearly as worthwhile as my favorite novels

[britneyshakespeare]

I started reading another novel last night to cope with having finished rereading David Copperfield and it is just not the same man. I don't have something I laugh at on every other page. I've read 45 pages so far and I haven't giggled once. This hurts

[litafficionado]

Four Questions with Garielle Lutz:

I’m extremely beholden to Garielle who took the time to respond to my silly, garbled, childish, intrusive questions. You can purchase her latest book Worsted here and here, among many other sites.  --------- Q.  You've attributed the resuscitation of your literary career in quite considerable measure to your teacher and editor Gordon Lish. It seems like you guys are particularly close, even as you seem to have largely confined yourself to Pittsburgh(mostly driven by your erstwhile teaching career but also by your liking the city over time). How does it feel to hear someone like Gordon speak so highly of you, “I think there’s more truth in one sentence of my student [Lutz] than in all of [Philip] Roth. Lutz gives [herself] away. “The speaking subject gives herself away,” says Julia Kristeva. I thoroughly believe that. What you see in Lutz, [her] lavish gift, is [her] refusal to relax [her] determination to uncover and uncover. It is, by my lights, quite wonderful, quite terrific.[…]Lutz is entirely the real thing?” Does one feel vindicated? How do you navigate the waters of self-effacement and self-indulgence as a writer and as a person? A.  I haven’t had a literary career before or after studying with Gordon Lish.  I don’t think one finds one’s way to him in hopes of launching a career.  Anyone with vulgar ambition along those lines would have been shown the door pretty quick.  I would never presume to be close to Gordon or to feel that I am part of his life other than in my role as a student. He dwells in another realm entirely. I attended his classes and tried to grasp, to the best of my abilities, the things he was saying about how to get from one word to the next.  He also talked about how to free a word from the constricting range of its permissible behaviors, how to drain it of every sepsis of received meaning, until there is nothing left of the word but the skeleton of its former self, just the lank, gawky letters sticking out this way and that, and then how to fill the thing up again, to the point of overspilling, but this time with something that would never have been allowed to belong in there before, and then see whether the word, now close to bursting, can hold up and maybe have a new kind of say.  I’m always surprised and relieved whenever Gordon says anything approving about anything I write.  I think that for a lot of his students, his opinion is the only one that counts.  

Q.  You've said, "A typical day goes like this: noon, afternoon, evening, night, additional night, even more night, furtherest night, then bedtime, though I don’t have a bed or furniture of any kind.” Have you always been a lychnobite, sensing the overwhelming superabundance of life after the sunset or is it a relatively recent development facilitated by your retirement from teaching? Do you consider yourself in any way to be a minimalist? Does your room bear any resemblance with a sparsely lit opium den where all exchanges happen at the floor level?

A.  I think the pandemic has had a lot to do with it.  Lately I’ve been up until five, sometimes six.  But I’ve always found mornings the harshest and ugliest part of the day (maybe it’s just because of the place where I live, but I never open the blinds anyway).  There can be something awfully scolding about a sunrise the older you get  Evening seems to extend every form of leniency, and in the dead of night, expectations go way down, which is where they maybe ought to stay.  I do spend all of my time on the floor, but my apartment doesn’t bear any resemblance to an opium den.  It’s more like a crawlspace or the back of a  dollar-store stockroom.    

Q. Even with your reputation of being a page-hugger than a typical page-turner, how do you decide which books to read apart from your line of work? Do you try to keep it largely in the familiar territory, like exploring the oeuvre of a time-tested writer? How does one unshackle oneself from this constant niggling that one ought to read so many books? Here's Ben Marcus: “When I was in graduate school, there was this sort of cautionary adage going around by the poet Francis Ponge that we can only write what we’ve already read and one way to hear that is you’re just sort of doomed to kind of regurgitate everything you’ve read and so if you’re just reading all the popular books, the books everyone else is reading, in some sense you’re maybe unwittingly confining yourself to a particular literary practice that’s gonna look pretty familiar. I remember at the time thinking, okay well if that’s true, if I’m just fated to that, then I’m gonna read things that no one else is reading. I loved to just go to the library and pretty randomly grab books, because I think for a little while, and I’m kinda glad this passed, but I really just had this feeling that a writer just consumes language and just sort of spits it out. So it didn’t matter. Like it didn’t have to be a great novel for it to be worth-reading. And I still read very little fiction in the end compared to non-fiction, essays, works of philosophy, science. And the other sort of dirty secret is: I don’t finish a lot of books. I just don’t care enough. I only finish a book if I have to or if I really want to. And, often, I’ll stop reading a book three pages from the end. I think that as writers, we probably feel a lot of pressure about what kind of a reader to be, what kind of a writer to be in, and we feel this shame, like “I haven’t read DH Lawrence, I’m such an asshole.” You begin to feel like you’ve these deficiencies and you gotta make them up and you never will and a lot of it is just kinda tyrannical. Of course, obviously, we must be naturally motivated to read and read and read and read but I guess I just started to notice that…I got a lot of my ideas by just reading…e.g. a gardening book…like the weird way a sentence was structured.” Then there's Moyra Davey: “Woolf famously said of reading: “The only advice … is to take no advice, … follow your instincts, … use your reason.” A similar thought was voiced by her elder contemporary Oscar Wilde, who did not believe in recommending books, only in de-recommending them. Later, Jorge Luis Borges echoed the same sentiment by discouraging “systematic bibliographies” in favor of “adulterous” reading. More recently, Gregg Bordowitz has promoted “promiscuous” reading in which you impulsively allow an “imposter” book to overrule any reading trajectory you might have set for yourself, simply because, for instance, a friend tells you in conversation that he is reading it and is excited by it. This evokes for me that most potent kind of reading — reading as flirtation with or eavesdropping on someone you love or desire, someone who figures in your fantasy life.”“What to read?” is a recurring dilemma in my life. The question always conjures up an image: a woman at home, half-dressed, moving restlessly from room to room, picking up a book, reading a page or two and no sooner feeling her mind drift, telling herself, “You should be reading something else, you should be doing something else.” The image also has a mise-en-scène: overstuffed, disorderly shelves of dusty and yellowing books, many of them unread; books in piles around the bed or faced down on a table; work prints of photographs, also with a faint covering of dust, taped to the walls of the studio; a pile of bills; a sink full of dishes. She is trying to concentrate on the page in front of her but a distracting blip in her head travels from one desultory scene to the next, each one competing for her attention. It is not just a question of which book will absorb her, for there are plenty that will do that, but rather, which book, in a nearly cosmic sense, will choose her, redeem her. Often what is at stake, should she want to spell it out, is the idea that something is missing, as in: what is the crucial bit of urgently needed knowledge that will save her, at least for this day? She has the idea that if she can simply plug into the right book then all will be calm, still, and right with the world. […] Must reading be tied to productivity to be truly satisfying […] Or is it the opposite, that it can only really gratify if it is a total escape? What is it that gives us a sense of sustenance and completion? Are we on some level always striving to attain that blissful state of un-agendaed reading remembered from childhood? What does it mean to spend a good part of one’s life absorbed in books? Given that our time is limited, the problem of reading becomes one of exclusion. Why pick one book over the hundreds, perhaps thousands on our bookshelves, the further millions in libraries and stores? For in settling on any book we are implicitly saying no to countless others. This conflict is aptly conjured up by essayist Lynne Sharon Schwartz as she reflects on “the many books (the many acts) I cannot in all decency leave unread (undone) — or can I?”” What way out do you suggest? Do you deem it worthwhile to eschew any shred of obligation and be propelled in any direction naturally? Like you said you found grammar books and lexicons more engaging and enjoyable than the novels.

A.  I seem to remember that in some magazine or another, James Wolcott once said “Read at whim.”  That has always sounded like the best advice.  And I assume it means to feel free to ditch any book that disappoints.  Like Ben Marcus, I’ve had experiences of abandoning a book just a few pages from the end, but I often don’t make it that far in most things anymore.  I came from a long line of nonreaders, so I’ve never felt any guilt about passing up books or writers that so many people seem to talk about a lot, and I don’t expect other people to like what I like. Some books I’ll start about halfway in and then see whether I might want to work my way back to the beginning.  Others I’ll start at the very end and inch my way toward the front, one sentence at a time, and see how far I can go that way.  I seem to remember that in The Pleasure of the Text, Roland Barthes recommends “cruising” a text, and maybe something like that is what I’m doing at least some of the time, if I understand what he means.  And every now and then I’ll read  a book straightforwardly for an hour and afterward wonder whether the time might have been better spent staring off into space. Too many books these days seem ungiving.  It’s the ungivingness that disappoints the most.  A lot of contemporary fiction has the gleam and sparkle of a trend feature in a glossy magazine, and I can appreciate the craft and the savvy that go into something like that, but I am drawn more toward stories and books that demand being read slowly and closely, pulse by pulse, the kind of fiction where everything--what little might be left of an entire blighted life--can pivot on the peal of a single syllable. Q.  I'd like to ask you so many questions. But let this be the last one for matters of convenience. Also, in a capitalistic world, one's enshrouded with guilt for taking one's time without being remunerative in any way. Among the books and films that you recently encountered, which ones do you think deserve rereads/rewatches? A.  I used to feel like the woman you’ve described so movingly above, someone who questions her choice of books almost to the brink of despair.  At my age, though, I no longer have a program for reading, a syllabus or a checklist, and I’m okay with knowing there’s a lot I’ll never get around to.  I’m happy being a rereader of a few inexhaustible books and chancing upon occasional fresh treasure.  The one book that has shaken me the most in the longest time is Anna DeForest’s  A History of Present Illness, which will be out next August.  It’s a blisteringly truthful novel written with moral grace and unsettling brilliance and an awing mastery of language.  A couple of recent books I have read in manuscript, books that totally knocked me out with their originality and uncanny command of the word, are Greg Gerke’s In the Suavity of the Rock (a novel) and David Nutt’s Summertime in the Emergency Room (a short-story collection).  I haven’t watched many movies in the past few months, and the ones I watched aren’t ones I’ll probably be rewatching anytime soon.  

[whitewallwhispers]

Little Lies

Narcos - Javier Peña - Series

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

A young writer moves to Colombia to perform research on the drug war for her latest novel. She’s willing to do anything for information, which leads her down a rabbit hole that begins to blur the line between pretending to be someone and becoming something she might not be ready for.

Her latest target is a D.E.A. Agent named Javier Peña. And their relationship is growing more complicated by the day.

Warnings: Drug use (cocaine), alcohol use (wine), strong language (pretty much every expletive under the sun), smut - oral sex (male receiving), fingering, I don’t want to call it self harm but it’s kind of self harm, rough sex (choking), unprotected sex (wrap it up, folks)

My hope is that you can imagine this character as any race with any style of hair (as someone with short hair I get annoyed when every fic mentions long locks and ponytails).

This is kind of a dumb note but I feel the need to clarify that this smut is completely aimed at Peña - I love Pedro but in a completely different, non-sexual way. It’s a credit to his acting skills that he can make me want to fuck nearly every character he plays when IRL I just want to be his best friend.

Tag List (Open): @fanfiction-trashpile | @sophster1881​ | @theringostarfanclub | @thinemineours

She sat on the stoop of her apartment building smoking her third cigarette of the night, taking a pull from the bottle of wine she held in her other hand. Her parents had finally completely cut her off, demanding that she return to Germany as soon as possible.

No one was hiring foreigners. Why the fuck would they? Sure, her private school education had blessed her with fluency in Spanish, albeit European Spanish, but she could still converse easily with any Colombian. The slang was foreign to her, but she had the basics. But things were hard enough for the locals, who would waste their time employing someone else who surely had other options? She couldn’t blame a single person who had turned down her applications

But that really only left her with one option. Thus far every man she’d fucked here had been interested in her accent. Maybe more men would also be interested in everything else that made her unusual. Maybe they’d relish the chance to fuck some foreign pussy. Maybe she’d found her calling already.

She’d just finished her cigarette when she noticed him walking down the street, strutting the way he always did, infuriatingly effortlessly sexy. She took another swig of her wine and tried to make herself look less like a mess and more like a semi-attractive human being.

“You sharing?” Javier asked as he reached her.

She nodded and handed him the bottle. He took a long drink.

“I prefer whiskey,” he noted, handing it back to her. “But it’s still good.”

“Out of my budget, especially considering…”

“They cut you off all the way?” His face was apologetic, but not patronizing. It made her want to kiss him.

“Bingo,” she answered. She stood then, taking back her wine bottle in one hand and taking his in the other.

“Let me know if anything is too much. I know you’re still recovering.”

They’d polished off the bottle of wine while he gave her as much intel as he could as she scribbled furiously in her notebook. He didn’t even flinch when she took a line of cocaine to keep her alert. What could she do? She couldn’t afford any worthwhile painkillers. She still wore a brace around her ribs, though her black eye had turned more yellow than purple now and her lip was healing quite quickly. The cut was almost gone.

“Pain makes it easier to keep my feelings as simple as money makes yours.”

“I wish it wasn’t like that. I wish just once I could make love to you, not just fuck you.”

“Love?” she scoffed.

“You know what I mean. Something…softer.”

“That’s a nice thought. But no matter what we do tonight, it’s bound to hurt. So just lean into that.”

Javier sighed as he reached into his wallet to pull out her usual fee. Then he placed another twenty on top of it.

“Javi,” she began to protest.

“I’d prefer if you stayed mostly mine. I can only guess how your job search has been going, but knowing what I know about this city…”

“Fruitless,” she laughed, though it was dry and hollow. “So…yeah. That’s the only avenue left to me.”

“But I still want you to be mine.”

“No you don’t.” If she accepted it, it’d hurt her.

“I do. I want you so much, even when I’m elsewhere.”

“Then only come here.”

“I can’t.”

“Then I don’t belong to you.”

“But for right now?”

She closed the gap between them, running a hand over his cheek and down his neck and stopping on his chest. “You took my stubborn ass to a hospital. So, yeah, for now, you have me. All to yourself.”

He kissed her then, so gentle at first. His thumb brushed over the bruises around her eye before his hands dipped down to her side, barely touching her ribs before settling on her hips. As usual. When would he tire of inflicting the same bruises upon her?

“I want to see your face tonight,” he whispered. “I won’t be rough, I promise.”

“I told you hurting me makes it better.”

She brushed past him then, taking off her shirt in one smooth movement and her shorts the next. She sat on the edge of the bed. In nothing more than her bra, her brace, and her underwear. Waiting.

After heaving a heavy sigh, he followed her, already unbuttoning his shirt.

“I don’t like hurting you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Not for real.”

“Too bad.”

His shirt was on the floor now. He was unbuttoning his jeans now.

She went to her knees. Instinctually.

“You don’t have to…”

Sure. Sure I don’t.

He could pretend all he wanted, but he stood before her anyway. She unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock all the same. It was only half hard. Disappointing. Anything other than wanting to fuck her senseless was disappointing at this point. She took his length in her hand and stroked it gently, eyes locked with his. His breathing picked up almost instantly, a gentle sigh escaping his lips as she licked his tip. Now he was hard.

So she went straight to work.

She relaxed her throat as best she could. She braced herself so that even if tears welled in her eyes, they wouldn’t fall. She wasn’t perfect, but she was better than last time. Even when he began to thrust into her, moaning in earnest, she didn’t gag. She only cried a little bit, and towards the end she was even able to begin to move her head in time when he pushed to get him even deeper within her.

After that, it wasn’t long until he had to pull out.

“You’re too much,” he huffed. “You’ve gotten too good.”

“That’s your own fault.” Still she waited on her knees.

“Get up. Get on the bed.”

“Yes, daddy.” It was a reflex by now, escaping her every time she could tell he was in the moment.

“No.” His response took her by surprise. “Only my name now.”

“All the time?” She laid herself out on the bed as best she could, trying to look as prone and fuckable as possible with her bruises and cuts and brace still wrapping across her ribs.

“All the time.” He emptied his pockets and thrust his jeans down and stepped out of them as he positioned himself above her. He hooked his thumbs expertly around her panties and pulled them off as if they were nothing. Two fingers were inside her before she could even respond.

“Yes, Javi,” she moaned.

He leaned down to kiss her, but only fleetingly. He sat up, brushing some of her hair off her forehead before picking up his pace.

She was losing her ability to keep control of her expressions and her body. She wanted to play pretend, to compensate for her ugly injuries and try to be as desirable as possible. She couldn’t be a mess. Why, not though? What was she afraid of? That if Javier didn’t find her attractive for even a night he’d lose interest?

It was a juvenile concern, but it was there all the same. After what they’d been through, she should feel more secure than ever that he wouldn’t stop seeking her out.

As he brought his thumb to her clit, she had to close her eyes.

She couldn’t look at him.

Goddamnit.

She’d hope that their new understanding and arrangement would make it easier, make her want him less.

No such luck.

If she kept staring into his face, at his eyes half lidded, biting his lip, focused only on pleasing her (at least for now) her heart would start to hurt.

Pain makes it easier. Not that kind of pain, though.

She wrapped an arm around her ribs and squeezed, the breath going out of her as she cried out a little.

It helped.

She was able to open her eyes again, and as she met Javi’s gaze he added another finger and began curling them inside her, stretching her out even further. It felt so good. So she squeezed her ribs again and bit her lip as the stabbing pain washed over her.

But all too soon he was pulling out of her, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, pulling her legs further apart and centering himself over her.

She flexed her fingers against her ribs and gasped in time with the way he sank into her to the hilt. Unfortunately the way he’d prepared her before meant it only felt good, without the usual initial pressure, and she couldn’t help but feel like he’d done it on purpose.

Stubborn bastard.

He placed his hands on her hips, gentler than ever before as he began to massage small circles into her skin.

She wanted what she’d asked for.

So she grabbed his wrists and led his hands up to her ribs, the pressure of his touch sending the most beautiful ache through her entire body.

“What are you doing?” He paused inside her, moving his hands to hover at her sides without touching her.

“What do you mean?” she asked, playing dumb.

“Your ribs, they’re -”

“It doesn’t hurt. It does when you bruise my hips in the same place every time, though,” she lied, pouting a little bit to try to look more convincing.

He didn’t look like he believed her. Instead he seemed hesitant, but when she didn’t back down his expression became defeated.

“Are you sure you want this?” The tone of his voice told her he knew what she was doing, and she wrapped her legs around him to pull him further into her as thanks.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded. With a sigh Javier returned his hands to her ribs, albeit gently, and began thrusting into her again, groaning as she flexed around him for good measure.

The pain coursing through her as he gripped her sides allowed her to run her fingers through his hair, to lean up to kiss him, to relish once more in the way he felt inside her. As he began to pick up his pace his fingers tightened around her. She gasped, half in pain and half in pleasure, mixing together in a high that made her eyes flutter shut. Finally, her head was clear. Finally, she could enjoy herself without her feelings getting in the way.

“Harder, Javi,” she breathed, her fingers curling into fists as she held onto the hair at the nape of his neck. He obliged in both ways, leaning forward to rest his face in the crook of her neck, nipping at her shoulder and throat between heavy breaths. She rewarded him by adjusting her legs to let him slip even further into her than before and contracting the muscles to make herself even tighter around him.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he moaned, biting her earlobe hard as his thrusts became fiercer.

“It’s what you deserve,” she whispered, raking her fingernails down his back hard enough that she might leave scratches. His grip on her ribs became firmer and she cried out, a sound of ecstasy mixed with agony.

Javier seemed to have gotten over his reservations, because the sound only made him go faster, his teeth sinking deeper into her skin. He was sure to leave marks, red and purple and prominent.

“I’d prefer if you stayed mostly mine.”

His words slipped through her mind at that moment and she couldn’t help but laugh.

He was claiming his territory.

I can do the same.

She pushed his chest hard, prying his mouth from her neck and sitting him up straight. She hooked her legs behind his knees and launched herself up, forcing him to turn and lay down. It was only a few moments before she was guiding him into her again, setting the pace as she moved up and down, forwards and backwards, grinding against him hard and fast.

He was out of breath for a moment, not knowing what to do with his hands or his face. But as she let her fingers dig into his chest he regained a sense of himself and latched a hand onto her throat, squeezing so hard she lost her breath all at once.

“This is how it should be,” she whispered, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she tried to breathe.

“If it’s what you want,” he groaned, his other hand roaming up her thigh and massaging her hot flesh, “then it’s what you’ll get.”

She unlatched her bra and tossed it somewhere to her left, needing to be more exposed, more vulnerable.

Javier responded by sitting up to swirl his tongue around her nipples, gripping her throat harder, his other hand squeezing her ribs,   thrusting up into her, sending her straight over the edge.

Her orgasm came over her suddenly and unexpectedly, eliciting a cry as she clung to his shoulders for support, unable to handle the pleasure and the pain. It was exactly what she wanted - the closeness of feeling him inside her, the distance of hurting while he was.

“On your knees,” he demanded, thrusting her down beneath him by her throat, slamming her into the mattress so hard she had to grit her teeth to stomach the pain that rippled through her.

She obliged, of course, turning and resting her head against the bed as she made her sex as high and accesible as possible. He sunk into her without hesitation, his hands naturally digging into her hips before shifting them up to her ribs, for her sake, and gripping them with varying intensity.

It was clear he was still hesitant, but willing to submit to some degree for her pleasure.

If anything, he drove her crazy.

“Javi, you’re so good to me,” she moaned, biting her lip to withstand the ache in her chest. The good kind of ache. The kind that came from her fragile ribs, not her fragile heart.

“Don’t you forget it,” he answered, picking up his pace, wrapping one of his hands around her waist to swirl around her clit. “No one can fuck you like I do.”

It wasn’t long before she was climaxing again, a beautiful fireworks show of tightening muscles and trembling limbs and excruciating pressure on the broken parts of her. Javier was soon to follow, burying himself in her as he did, both his hands slipping up to squeeze her breasts.

He stayed inside her, guiding her down to lay flat on the bed as he peppered kisses across her shoulders, running his fingers down her spine so softly it made her shiver. Only then did he pull out.

“Stay there,” he murmured. She turned her head to watch him light a cigarette and slip into his jeans before he made his way to the bathroom to grab her a towel. He made quick work of cleaning her up before tossing the towel onto the floor and sitting beside her, letting his head loll against the wall as he took a deep draw from his cigarette.

“Want one?” he asked, turning to look down at her with one eyebrow naturally raising itself higher than the other.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, sitting up to join him. He lit it for her and then put his hand on her thigh, his thumb tracing small circles into her skin.

“There’s something I want to give you,” he said after a few moments of comfortable, hazy silence.

“What?”

She was intrigued.

“This,” he replied, picking up his gun.

Now she was wary. “I - uh - why?”

“For protection. If that cartel member thinks you know too much, he might come looking for you.”

“He doesn’t know where I live,” she began, but he cut her off by shaking his head.

“It won’t take much asking around about a foreign prostitute for him to find you. Carry it in your waistband whenever you go out. If he’s trailing you, it might put him off. But keep it hidden in here so your clients can’t find it.”

She swallowed hard and nodded.

“You know how to shoot?”

She nodded again. Her father was paranoid about nearly everything, which in addition to stockpiling food and medical supplies meant she’d spent several summers taking trips to the nearest forest to learn how to shoot. Pistols, revolvers, shotguns, rifles. She didn’t ask how he’d gotten them, didn’t try to protest that learning wasn’t necessary.

Now it seemed a bit like fate.

“You have a phone?”

She pointed to the far wall of the kitchen where the clunky, outdated phone hung, loose and crooked.

“This is my number,” he said, pulling a small folded piece of paper out of the back pocket of his jeans. “Office and cell phone. If something happens, you call me, not the police. I’ll send officers who aren’t on the cartel payroll.”

“Javi, you don’t have to do this,” she protested. “You have enough to worry about.”

There he went, being too nice to her again. It felt bittersweet, twisting her heart and stomach at the same time.

“Exactly. If I didn’t try to protect you, I’d be worried about you.”

That took her by surprise. She couldn’t think of anything to say. He said it so simply, as if she’d been stupid to think otherwise. He caught her by surprise again as he leaned forward to place a light kiss on her forehead.

“I’ve gotta go,” he sighed. “But I’ll be back next week.”

Without thinking about it she reached up to cup his face in her hands and kiss him on the lips. Slowly, and heavy with the weight of how much she owed him. He’d become the only thing keeping her in Colombia, keeping her dream of finishing her book alive.

“Thank you, Javi,” she whispered, pulling away and resting her forehead against his, eyes closed.

She’d do whatever she could to make it worth his while.

“Yeah.” He pulled away, not unkindly, and finished getting dressed, tossing her her bra and panties before stuffing his belongings back into his pockets.

All of them except for the gun.

It stayed on the bedside table, equal parts comforting and foreboding.

She couldn’t look away, not even when Javier said goodbye and closed the door behind him. She stayed like that, frozen and naked and staring at the cold, gleaming metal until her neck began to ache and she started to shiver.

[punkscowardschampions]

James & Ava

James: Good morning, how are you? Ava: 😊 All the 🌞 for hearing from you Ava: how are you, James? James: I'm happy to hear that James: meanwhile I'm busy, but unfortunately not solely with hours dedicated to missing you, which is in itself dangerously close to a regret Ava: I know what you mean Ava: the universe doesn't allow nearly enough opportunities for pining at open windows or reflective musing whilst staring into bodies of water, or mirrors, depending on the mood Ava: impressive you can think up any beautiful words in such circumstances Ava: what are you busy with? James: I can't remember the last time I looked into a reflective surface that wasn't a kitchen appliance, but considering how few hours of sleep my present universe allows, that's perhaps for the best James: there is only so much a caffeine fuelled bloodstream can produce and therefore no new paragraphs of the novel are forthcoming either James: I'm steeping your in disappointments to begin your day, I'm afraid James: and you're not the only one, as what I am overwhelmingly busy right now is cancelling plans Ava: I'm sure I'll survive them all though Ava: as you will the lack of sleep and caffeine jitters, with a bit of help Ava: what can I do? Ava: Which is to say, what plans are worth keeping cancelled, and which ones should be salvaged from the ❌🗑 James: all I am left with are the activities which I cannot bear to erase from the schedule, therein lies my dilemma in its entirety Ava: Lay it on me Ava: two heads are better than one James: she is supposed to be here & isn't, which is of no surprise to me & wouldn't be of any consequence if I were capable of being in two places at once James: but I am not, nor do I have words to spin this into a story that doesn't end with a child having even less routine or structure when what she wants is more of both Ava: Right, and naturally, she's left it too late to contact any grandparent to be a stand-in? Ava: is it something I could do or not? James: I did try my mother but her reaction to being asked to enter the swimming baths was as hilarious as it was unhelpful Ava: I can imagine Ava: if that wasn't a waste of imagination James: I should have foreseen that they'd end up sharing the same unwillingness to get their hair wet Ava: but swimming caps are so fetching Ava: 🙄 James: of course James: & it's entirely about them, not the children's enjoyment Ava: or that swimming is actually a pretty vital skill Ava: you think people who like to spend so much time doing water-adjacent activities, yachting, sailing etc, would realize said importance but half my friends can't swim, only take the poolside pictures Ava: but seriously, if you think they'd be okay, I'm happy to keep watch on whichever kid would be more agreeable with me doing so James: Jay loves swimming, but I'm sure she'll outgrow it & prefer to pose apathetically on a lounger in designer sunglasses given a few years & the force of my wife's will James: that's how things work in this universe Ava: Not everyone is like that Ava: and your wife's will can be broken by the horror of damp hair, it can't be that much of an unstoppable force James: her will isn't the one being tested, but point taken Ava: No, I know Ava: I bet none of her yummy mummy friends take their kids though, do they? James: all of her friends have foreign au pairs that they barely have to financially compensation for raising their children full time Ava: so Ava: we can pretend I'm your enthusiastic...Swedish is perhaps a little too cliche Ava: Dutch? Ava: au pair James: what language do you actually take in school? James: they might hypothetically try to voice their complaints to you & expect you to respond in kind Ava: Such a shame the obligatory Latin won't come in handy, as per with dead languages Ava: I take French though, some of them might be Swiss James: it's inconsequential really, I can't ask you to help me when I haven't even asked what your plans are Ava: I offered, you didn't ask Ava: and I wouldn't have offered if I was busy with anything of consequence James: yes you would Ava: Nothing in my life is that important, not currently James: this isn't important to you James: & it doesn't have to be Ava: It's a life skill, like I said Ava: I don't mind doing it James: what am I supposed to say? Ava: if you think it's a bad idea, it's not like I'll be offended or anything silly like that James: it isn't that it's a bad idea Ava: What is it? James: it's that I feel bad, if this is what I can offer you James: because ours isn't supposed to be a sob story & it seems like I've only started a conversation with you to file my complaints Ava: it's not all you can offer me Ava: or all you do Ava: you have responsibilities, plenty of them, I knew that before Ava: and it's not a negative, even with it meaning we spend more time missing each other than we'd like James: it is however painfully stereotypical, 'my wife doesn't understand me' & so on Ava: well, yes Ava: at least you aren't alone in that pain Ava: 2/3 marriages, isn't it James: you're not supposed to be a sounding board for my mistakes, or hers, is all I'm trying to say Ava: I don't feel like one, I promise James: I just wish we could exist independent of this James: but there's no way not to feel equally as bad for wishing for a different world as I do for dragging you into this one Ava: I know Ava: but that wouldn't be a real world at all Ava: it could only exist within the pages of the novel Ava: it'd be perfect but James: I know that too, all of it James: ignore me, I'm tired Ava: I couldn't if I wanted to Ava: and I don't Ava: maybe you'll find a lilo to catch some 💤 on James: sadly I'm not taking any of you swimming at the villa Ava: You would have to tell me if I needed my passport as well as my swimsuit James: one day Ava: yeah? James: if you want to Ava: I don't need to pose apathetically in another sun lounger Ava: but of course, I'd like to be anywhere with you James: you won't be, that isn't even the hypothetical holiday I have in mind James: you know I want to experience things with you Ava: Then we will Ava: and it'll be much more than a photo opportunity James: okay, good Ava: Where would you most want to go together? James: I don't know James: but I like snow Ava: We can work with that Ava: top of a mountain, maybe James: that would be an undeniably good photo opportunity Ava: okay, so the view doesn't count 😅 James: I'll be relying on that, taking mental pictures is all well & good for now but you're a very lovely view Ava: oh 😌 Ava: you're lovelier James: no, you're impossibly beautiful James: all I can do is my best to put suitable description to it Ava: you're just Ava: I want to help you today Ava: but it's undeniably a bonus that I will get to see you James: I'll make some time purely for you James: I don't know when, but as soon as I can Ava: I'll take it Ava: whenever it is James: there's a chance I can use my mother's unwillingness to help me now as a insistence to do so later Ava: potentially Ava: promise her hair won't get wet, that'd be a start James: thank you, I'll open with that Ava: 😏 Ava: there must be something she'd like to do with them Ava: that won't also be entirely torturous for them, because certainly counterproductive James: I'm not sure there is James: but at the very least she's capable of feeding & putting them to bed Ava: then I can do the same for you Ava: more or less James: by then, it'll be my turn to do something for you Ava: which would you rather 🛏 or 🍽? James: it's not my decision, it's yours Ava: I'll cook for you James: I think that's wise Ava: I just want to see you, we don't need to go anywhere unnecessarily Ava: my place is often empty James: I'm happy to hear that in this instance, because of how much I want to see you too Ava: It has its perks Ava: you can take as long as you like putting me to bed, also James: can I? Ava: Yes Ava: I very much hope so James: I don't think you've anticipated how long I would like to spend doing so James: in a perfect world Ava: in this world Ava: we can go to bed very, very early, so you'll still be home by the time you need to be James: & if I don't need to be anywhere else, can I stay? Ava: yes Ava: you can stay as long as you can James: I'll try & stay until we can say good morning face to face Ava: I'd really like that James: me too Ava: You make me smile, you know James: I look forward to seeing it, should traffic ever allow Ava: Oh, I could've got myself there James: I know but I want to spend as much time with you as possible, just in case James: it's already been highlighted how unreliable all of my childcare options are & just how dependent on ridiculous whims Ava: I'm not going to complain, trust me James: you'd be entitled to, when you see how much energy these girls have compared to me James: they make me appear a level of exhausted that I haven't yet reached, honest James: it's horrifically unjust Ava: If I know anything about having kids, it's that any complaint I might have doesn't even register in comparison Ava: and you're still beautiful, even if you're very, very tired James: in theory possibly, but actually, your every sound & silence registers with me Ava: in that case, I'll make every one count James: I believe you Ava: not that I promise my words will be as good as yours Ava: that would just be foolish James: I don't doubt your vocabulary either, you're extremely eloquent & capable whatever the circumstances James: a very worthwhile skill in a protagonist Ava: you could make me the swooning type and it'd be valid Ava: perhaps not very likable or inspirational though James: unless you've changed your mind about seeing me, I don't have the time for such a drastic & unnecessarily out of character rewrite James: there aren't enough hours in the day to finish the saga, never mind turn us into the next Bella & Edward James: what a great disservice that would be to you anyway Ava: That would be so out of character, I couldn't possibly, we'd find ourselves in the same situation regardless Ava: and whilst I'm happy to miss you and do some pining for the cause Ava: I'll be happier to see you, of course Ava: no need to exile yourself to Italy, though I can see the pluses of that for you/Edward James: not to mention, the age gap is already enough of a potential concern Ava: at least you aren't re-doing high school for the nth time Ava: that would be alarming James: there's an argument to be made that I should Ava: if you picked a better school, maybe James: at the top of a mountain, perhaps Ava: yes Ava: though, distracting as you would be, I wouldn't be mad at an excuse to see you every day James: there is nothing more distracting than the thought of the blush of your cheeks in the cold air, which is what I'm considering right now Ava: James James: Ava Ava: I'm going to have to be cool when I see you, aren't I James: yes Ava: okay Ava: then I better compose myself James: such a heartbreaking sentence will never make it into the final draft Ava: it's okay, I like swimming James: you'll enjoy it when I can promise you a hot spring Ava: I'll love it then James: I hope so Ava: I will Ava: but I could be anywhere with you and feel 🌞 James: I can't help but feel as though this swimming lesson will put that to the test Ava: screaming kids are nothing Ava: I'm 💪 James: you can have the baby then, there's more heavy lifting involved Ava: alright Ava: I can do that Ava: she must be like a little 🐠 James: she looks like one with her 🐠 hooded towel on Ava: that's adorable James: [sends her a picture from a previous swimming lesson of that adorable bub wearing it because that's not cheating evidence Chlo, we're safe] Ava: Bless her Ava: she's precious James: you'll do fine, she enjoys a compliment Ava: I feel that James: well, it'd be amiss if I didn't flirt with my au pair & we don't want any raised eyebrows Ava: Exactly Ava: got to play your role James: if there was ever one I was seemingly born to play Ava: you don't want an actual au pair? Ava: not for flirting purposes, obviously James: I'm not allowed one, for flirting purposes or otherwise Ava: Ahh Ava: I see James: yet another cliche Ava: you shouldn't need one Ava: she doesn't work, right Ava: or uni, or anything James: of course not, but we would hypothetically need one because, as you just highlighted, she doesn't do anything Ava: yeah Ava: maybe you could find a man Ava: or a really unappealing woman James: I'm not handing her someone else to sleep with, least of all someone who's supposed to be busy watching the children James: & I don't think a woman unappealing enough exists given that my imagined track record clearly surpasses the actual Ava: and it would just be cruel to force any queer guy to be her built-in gay BFF Ava: 🙁 James: oh god, that would be the cruellest fate imaginable Ava: couldn't wish that on anyone Ava: I just Ava: wish I could help more long-term James: all you have to do is be here, that is helping me both short & long term James: more than you know or I could feasibly let you know Ava: but you can try Ava: and I will very much enjoy you doing so Ava: later James: I miss you James: I want you to know that now Ava: I miss you too James: I'll be there soon though, whether or not that helps or makes the feeling worse for you Ava: we'll see Ava: at least I can let you know 💬 James: I'll take my own opportunity to compose myself before you do Ava: 😇 James: 😈 Ava: it will be hard not to be James: it always is Ava: yeah Ava: one day, you won't have to be James: but this morning, I'll try to please everyone Ava: and you will James: you're the 😇 darling Ava: but you are very, very good Ava: you should know, I want you to James: thank you Ava: you're 🥇 James: I will only accept the accolade if I can share the honour with you Ava: you're too generous Ava: you deserve it James: so do you Ava: nah, not really James: yes really James: I don't deserve you happening to me James: I'm in awe of everything about you, Ava Ava: That's not true Ava: you deserve me Ava: and a lot more besides James: irrespective of the difference of opinion, I don't want anything more than you Ava: anything? James: what could I possibly desire more than you? Ava: you're Ava: are you nearly here? James: yes, but I can take some kind of impromptu detour if you'd rather the answer was no Ava: I can definitely compose myself again Ava: becoming quite an expert James: which is why you deserve a 🥇 James: I know how difficult it is to do Ava: at least we share in it Ava: that makes it, not easier but at least worthwhile James: still, I wish there was something I could do to make it easier for you Ava: it'll help when I get to see you in the pool Ava: or make it a lot worse in a kinda fun way, anyway James: oh James: I haven't stopped to consider what you're going to be wearing for this Ava: It's probably best you don't Ava: forget I said anything James: hm, what you're done is, you've essentially guaranteed I can't & won't Ava: it's okay, you have the whole ride there to think about it before you really need to concentrate James: except I meant it when I answered yes to being nearly there & as soon as I am, time will speed up as it tends to do James: around you there are just never enough moments Ava: I miss you before you've even got here too Ava: no amount of time seems suitable James: I'll write us days, weeks, months & years but there's every chance you'll still feel cheated by it Ava: that's just life isn't it Ava: there's no time for half the things we want to do, but we have to carry on in earnest anyway James: the fraction alters from person to person, depending on the life lived & what gets prioritised but I don't believe there's anyone satisfied that they've experienced enough of anything they still want Ava: right Ava: the best you can hope for is doing some of it and having no regrets about if you could've done any more with your allotted time James: in not doing regrets, I'm halfway there Ava: could be worse James: I'm aware it could also be better, don't worry, I won't make you say it Ava: who's couldn't though James: anyone I care about, if the 🖋 were mightier than the ⚔ or indeed intentions counted for more than words on paper in the 1st place Ava: good intentions might not exactly be doing good, but it's still much better than doing bad James: they might also be dangerously close to a fool's errand but I've definitely made a fool of myself for a lot less Ava: I think its noble James: do you? Ava: Yes Ava: of course Ava: I mean it, really mean it, when I say I think you're lovely James: it's just that I'm not used to hearing it James: give me days, months, weeks & years Ava: Done Ava: the only reason I'd stop was if you wanted me to Ava: even then, I might try again, a few more times James: I have no intention, be it good or bad, of stopping you from doing anything you want to Ava: as long as you want it too James: even if I don't Ava: I wouldn't want that James: give yourself days, months, weeks & years James: the point is, my limitations aren't yours, you can do whatever you want & I won't be something that prevents you Ava: I'll still have time and space to say and mean it, whoever I am, because it will still be true and you'll still deserve to hear it James: okay, I'll work on accepting that James: but I make no promises about getting that work done during this particular car ride James: nonetheless, if you're still willing to, you can get in Ava: [come through gal, say hello to them babies] James: [depending where we're putting this on the timeline it could be the first time you have] Ava: [very well could be, Jay just like whaaa] James: [she's like new phone who dis] Ava: [just like I too wanted to swim so I'm coming with, is that cool?] James: [cue excited chatter about swimming and all the other sports and activities she likes because she's a sporty bitch from cradle to grave hence her personal trainer future] Ava: [just taking an interest like your own mother never, so rude] James: [I like to imagine the baby joining in by making excited sounds like she's trying to chat too] Ava: [just replying like yeah girl, same, like you understand] James: [I love it when that's a thing] Ava: [so do babies] James: [already better with her than her actual mother is] Ava: [sad but true] James: [we know the bar is that low, no shade Ava we also know you'll be an amazing step mum and mum so] Ava: [but seriously, we aren't being that extra rn that would be weird, we're just being not shit lol] James: [exactly dr phil and we know this swimming lesson will go great cos I'm only gonna be evil after and not let him get away to spend the night with her cos forever rude] Ava: [that's real and fair] James: [you lowkey don't get to have anything you want rn lads it's just the era we're in] Ava: [true tea, can skip to that] James: the later we wanted is going to have to happen moreso than we thought James: I'm really sorry James: I've tried everyone, both my siblings even Ava: Oh, okay Ava: that is a shame James: It's not okay, you were wonderful earlier & I James: well, I'm hardly that, unless we're giving out marks for effort in the last hour Ava: I'm definitely counting it Ava: if it can't be done it can't be James: not tonight Ava: then it's, not okay but just a fact Ava: we'll find time James: what are you doing tomorrow, maybe we can find some time then? Ava: I'm going to another Uni taster day thing James: which uni is it? Ava: LSE, so I will be about the day after on James: & you'll tell me what you think of LSE when it's over, right? Ava: Of course Ava: it's 1st for journalism but I'm not sold quite yet James: the tour might swing it for you if they take it more seriously than the one I gave Ava: I happen to be fond of the tour you gave, thank you very much James: Yes, The Vault will forever hold a special place in your heart Ava: Exactly Ava: be swinging by whether I'm alum or not 😏 James: I'll bear that in mind should I ever need to find you Ava: you only have to ask James: or whistle, not your namesake's immortal line, but I'm sure it'd be effective Ava: I have two, should you ever like to try again James: I'll bear that in mind as well Ava: Are you named after your dad, or granddad? James: II not III Ava: might've skipped a generation, if he was feeling particularly ruthless James: that would be a fun anecdote, but no Ava: that's a shame Ava: how do they pick the second boy's name James: I assume my mother just named Teddy what she would have named me if my father's ego hadn't got in the way Ava: that makes sense James: how they chose me sister's name would be anyone's guess, were it not stolen from the royal family Ava: surprised they'd commit the faux pas Ava: never have you 'round now, very awkward James: or very much a relief Ava: Poor Charlotte is pretty awkward looking James: looking like your grandmother can go one of 2 extremely different ways James: the more greats you add, the more you're rolling the dice Ava: 😅 Ava: at least there is some mystery in that Ava: no prizes for guessing who I come from James: but hand on heart I can profess to being thrilled that neither of my daughters resemble any of their grandparents Ava: they look like you James: Jay does Ava: yeah, moreso Ava: little ones change so much James: yes, she's an unfinished work Ava: that's a good way to put it James: it's better than being a shelved one, as I am Ava: I can deploy tiptoes if necessary James: thank you for what will be a cherished mental image Ava: it'd be cuter if I was smaller but in relation to you James: you couldn't be any cuter, in relation to anyone Ava: I'm glad you think so James: of course I do Ava: no of course about it Ava: you're totally gorgeous yourself James: first you're comparing our heights & now follows the rest of our attributes James: it's okay, I'm sitting down Ava: well I'm glad to hear you're getting somewhat of a break Ava: I'm just saying, it was still very unlikely, if not star-crossed James: you don't think we looked right together earlier? Ava: I love how we looked James: is there a but coming? Ava: only in the sense I wish it wasn't such a predictable cliche scene around here Ava: but it's neither of our faults that employment is seen as an actual form of flirtation by some James: it was a convenient excuse, I couldn't have wished for more than that under the circumstances Ava: I know Ava: it did the job James: if you want to come again, we know it works Ava: do you think I'll be invited back? James: I don't see why not Ava: I did okay then James: you did better than okay, we're all in agreement here Ava: good James: you haven't been worrying about this since you left, have you? Ava: not worrying Ava: but I don't want to mess that up, so I'm glad I didn't James: I understand, but I meant what I said about being in awe of you, you know James: this wasn't any different Ava: You really do always know what to say Ava: I know it was only swimming, but I'm glad they got to go James: well it's obvious that you always know what to do because you were perfect James: I was worried I shouldn't have agreed to you coming with us, but I'm glad you did James: they would've missed out for no reason if I'd panicked needlessly Ava: it wasn't needless panic though, you were left properly in the lurch Ava: and on paper, does not sound like the best idea James: I'm used to that, but less used to us existing off the page, particularly when it isn't just the two of us James: I asked you what you thought about how we looked, but it's something I try not to think about Ava: because of what other people might think Ava: or because you don't like the thought James: because of everything about my life that makes it difficult for us to be an us James: & because of your age & theirs Ava: You aren't that much older, even if your life means you have to act it Ava: but I understand Ava: thinking about it too much makes you think it might only ever be a nice thought, a daydream on the page and in our heads James: I know but Jay is 6 & you aren't old enough to have a child of that age James: which is why you don't James: I can't help thinking about that Ava: Well, yeah, I don't get having kids, there's no denying that but I'm not trying to say I do Ava: most people your age don't have kids either James: of course they don't, that's the thing, there's not an excessive age gap but there is a huge discrepancy when it comes to our lifestyle Ava: I know James: I don't want to alter yours, that's all Ava: You aren't just going to Ava: my lifestyle is up to me James: okay, just don't let me rewrite you Ava: you won't Ava: you don't want to, and I won't let you Ava: don't worry, okay James: I'll try not to Ava: it's needless, we can use that word here instead James: it's only a worry because I like you exactly as you are Ava: those aren't your words, sir James: do you only accept original speeches? James: it's very much a sentiment that applies to you and how I feel in this instance Ava: as long as you stick to the classics Ava: Mark Darcy, Edward Cullen James: an easy promise to both make & stick to Ava: then I'm happy Ava: 😊 James: I'm happy to hear that Ava: I like it when you're happy James: I'm happy with you Ava: good Ava: that's a good start Ava: we'll see each other soon, but maybe we can call before then James: I'd like that James: when? Ava: whenever you can Ava: I'm going to have a quiet night in James: as soon as I can then Ava: perfect Ava: what are you doing now? James: everything you would if you were my actual au pair Ava: Awkward when I am just a pretty face James: you're not but you're also not on my payroll thankfully because that would be more awkward James: what are you doing? Ava: making some dinner Ava: then I'll see how long I can make a bath last, I reckon James: are you making the same thing for yourself as you were going to make for me? Ava: I would've made you something special James: you've earnt special too though Ava: I'll do a different kind of special then Ava: comfort food James: I normally can't stand compromises but that admittedly sounds like a lovely one Ava: aren't compromises key in kid negotiations though? James: I think that depends what kind of parent you are Ava: and you're the structure and routine, so you're the boundaries and rules that aren't up for discussion too James: whether I wish I could just give in sometimes or not Ava: you're the love too though Ava: you can tell they both adore you James: for as long as being everything doesn't wear me down to nothing, I'll keep being exactly what they need me to Ava: does anyone help Ava: like, give consistent help James: her parents are the closest I've got Ava: sounds really fucking stressful James: it was easier with one Ava: yeah Ava: now you're outnumbered James: & everyone helped more when Jay was younger because we were too James: I'm expected to know what I'm doing by now Ava: don't reckon anyone ever does though Ava: cop-out response, I'm aware but genuinely Ava: it's just everyone has the responsibility of fucking up their own kids James: every child is different & I'm not remotely the same person I was either James: an additional cop out response but true anyway James: the way I handle things now, or don't, is a world away from how I coped then so James: new challenges Ava: well, I can't say about then Ava: but you're nicer now than lots of dickheads 'round here that wait 'til they're 30-40 odd to have theirs James: thank you Ava: whatever missteps, having a parent that's a decent person is an advantage lots of kids don't get James: are yours? Ava: yeah, I think so Ava: like, they aren't storybook parents and they never have been that type, they're too fucked up for that Ava: but they did and would do anything for us, nothing we could bring at them would be too much, and my siblings have definitely put that to the test in recent years James: storybook parents tend to lead you into the woods using a trail of breadcrumbs or do nothing while you're placed under a curse anyway James: which sounds more like the school of child rearing my parents would subscribe to Ava: oh you're right Ava: the ones that aren't dead are usually terrible James: I need to write some better bedtime stories once the novel is finished Ava: you'd be perfect at that Ava: I can tell Ava: you can turn me into whatever animal sells best but it better be cute or I won't be able to help being slightly offended James: you'll be adorable & clever & kind, of course James: the good ideas can come from your animal counterpart as they always do from you when you're yourself Ava: very 🦗 Ava: she likes 🐕 a lot though, and I can handle that James: I was considering a water creature because you love swimming & are intending to be in the bath as long as you possibly can James: perhaps 🦦 Ava: see Ava: you're amazing at this Ava: that would be so cute James: you haven't seen the pictures yet, an amazing artist I am not Ava: we'll get you an illustrator James: male or unattractive? Ava: I'm not your wife, I don't need to make those sort of stipulations James: strictly hired on their ability to draw an adorable 🦦 it is then Ava: 👍 thinking James: [I was thinking he should send her some totally beautiful and expensive pudding because she said comfort food so that needs to arrive before she's in the bath otherwise that'd be annoying instead of sweet] Ava: James James: Ava Ava: how am I ever going to thank you? James: oh good, I thought you were say you didn't like it James: *about to Ava: I love it Ava: how are you just as sweet Ava: it's ridiculous James: it's ridiculous that I can't see you for days at a time James: I want you to know that you're in my thoughts more often than that Ava: if she knew how lucky she was, none of this would even be an issue, that's what's ridiculous Ava: but I'm sort of glad she doesn't Ava: selfishly James: she isn't lucky to have me, that's the obvious issue James: because to say that we don't work as a couple or aren't sweet to each other is an oversimplification Ava: did you ever? James: no Ava: I'm sorry James: I don't deserve any sympathy, I haven't always tried very hard Ava: It's still sad James: It's sad for them, I'd like to think that maybe one day they'll describe me as 'fucked up but...' as you did your parents though James: I'd happily settle for that Ava: I don't know how thrilled they'd be Ava: but there's not really a higher compliment so Ava: as far as goals go, it's a good one James: realistic goals are the only way forward Ava: I'll drink to that James: 🥂 since I can't actually Ava: I'm just eating my pudding, obviously James: very amiss of me not to send you 🍾 as well James: noted Ava: Shh Ava: it was perfect, you are Ava: there's always enough 🍾 'round mine to bathe in, should I feel so inclined James: I remember Ava: yeah Ava: I remember too James: I won't ask you to fill in the ensuing gaps in my memory, don't worry Ava: I tried not to pay that close attention, naturally James: 😇 naturally Ava: Hardly Ava: Buster was just pretty embarrassing James: I remember that as well James: though I took the 👑 in that regard so there's little room for me to say anything Ava: you aren't my brother so I guess it didn't really register James: it may have more closely registered had we stayed friends, I suppose Ava: He didn't stay, period James: precisely Ava: 🤷 James: if he had & we were still friends, there wouldn't be a you & I so Ava: depends how good friends you were Ava: think you'd have to be much better than you were, right? James: it would be an added complication regardless & there are more than enough of those Ava: very true James: no offense to your brother but I would rather have your company than his Ava: 😂 I should hope so James: you could improve your ⚽ skills but James: Jay'll help you Ava: Slander Ava: I could be semi-pro, you don't know 😏 James: 😂 Ava: I'm not though, don't want to get anyone's hopes up here Ava: definitely come back to bite me if I try and impress you with my dribbling skills 🙄 James: I won't wait for you to indignantly explain the off side rule to me, it's okay Ava: we're both better than that cliche James: I hope so Ava: besides, I have ZERO interest in being a sports journalist thank you Ava: not putting that out into the universe James: or a WAG presumably Ava: not unless he has an interesting personality to go with the ball control James: some of them must Ava: probably be better going with a female player but I doubt they're girlfriends go in for the WAG label Ava: not invested enough to champion it solo James: it'd be a slightly less stereotypical existence Ava: except every lesbian is either a footballer, cop or farmer James: I'll have to take your word for it Ava: yes, I'm very reliable James: well I'm sorry, you can't be the novel's narrator Ava: I like your words too much, that's fine James: you're too kind to me Ava: no James: yes James: because it's another failing of mine that I can't get inside your head in order to write those words Ava: I like when you tell them to me Ava: with your voice James: can I call you? Ava: yes James: [does and I vote it lasts for hours and hours because they are cute and high key] Ava: [agreed]

[elftwink]

What are your feelings about wtnv condos?

WELL, since you asked: 

for one i think most everything has been said about cecil calling carlos perfect prior to condos and imperfect after it. i agree w/all that, i think its beautiful and it makes me cry and also it’s so cohesive and such a good character development thing BUT like i said, it has been covered so i won’t waffle about that. but i will waffle about the way that perfection is presented in and of itself and how that presentation is tied to night vale’s larger themes. namely, this line:

“I understood that the cubes are perfect! I understood that this is how we become perfect. I understood that what I was seeing was the way to perfection. And I don’t know how I understood this. Thinking about it now, nothing about it seems good, let alone perfect.” [bolding mine]

night vale is far from the only media around that covers the idea that perfection is a myth that people spend their whole lives chasing. i think what it does that works so well is that it never portrays perfection as completely unattainable— in fact, the plot of the episode hinges on the fact that the character can access a perfect existence— but rather as alien. so far removed from a real human experience that looking at it from an outsider perspective, as cecil does after the weather is over in that line, makes it very nearly incomprehensible. 

and moreover, the people who are “perfect” within the context of the episode are not, in any tangible or understandable way, “better” than they were before— which, as far as my personal media consumption goes, is a fairly novel twist. off the top of my head i can think of several stories or plot points that revolve around a protagonist being offered a perfect existence and refusing. basically any media that involves omnipotent beings will have a plotline like this or similar and stories about human beings refusing like, divinity or power or wealth or skill or whatever it might be are kind of a staple of like, every genre. HOWEVER the idea tends to be that they have something to gain from that; power or wealth or status or knowledge or something, something that might be massive and that they could never hope to achieve or accrue on their own.

the condos offer no understandable improvement. they don’t even offer the promise of improvement. the demonstrations of perfection and the examples we are given as an audience are not glorious or grandiose but foreign and terrifying, something that the characters openly admit. 

“Janice Rio (from down the street) saw a city. A lost city. A dead city, nestled in a jungle – the kind of jungle that only ever existed in books written by people who have never seen a jungle. The city stood, and Janice stood, in perfect dread, its doors were open jaws. Its windows were open jaws. Its roads and avenues were gaping mouths and open jaws. That dead city teetered. It rotted in its jungle tomb, but…it was not empty. And she started to run. Run through the thick foliage of that absurd place, she shouted and ran.”

���Roger Singh (who had been able to buy a condo with the spine) saw a cave, underwater, in an ocean far to the north. And the water around him was dark – so dark! – that he wasn’t sure even which way led to the surface, to life…and which way led down only to the deep silent. He gasped, but found he had no breath…and no need to breathe. And there was this cave that smoldered with a light, a light that was charged and alive. And shadows moved against the light, cast by…what?…within the cave. And then he swam towards it, uncertain whether he was guest, or sacrifice, or invulnerable dreamer. And he heard a song from the cave, and he knew it, and it was perfect. And he sang along, but at the same time, he had never heard that song before in his life. And what was life? What made it his? It all seemed so small, part of the world that didn’t exist anymore.” 

and like, to some extent, so what, right? who cares if perfection is seen as desirable vs unknowable? what difference does it make? well, i will tell you/theorize about it abstractly. i find that this framing of perfection makes it much much clearer that wtnv intends imperfection to be celebrated rather than tolerated. 

the order of events is not imperfection is human -> being human is good -> imperfection is good, but rather, imperfection is good -> humans are imperfect - > being human is good. cecil says pretty much this when he says: “And those imperfections in our reality are the seams and the cracks into which our out-sized love can seep and pool. And sometimes we are annoyed, and disappointed, and that too is a part of how love works. It is not a perfect system, but… Oh, well.”

and i mean, even in and of itself that’s a deeply moving thing to say. this post could end here with me saying that night vale’s framing of imperfection as not just necessary but integral to experiencing life in a way that is worthwhile makes for an incredibly powerful story. 

but condos is part of a larger story. and i’ve talked about parade day & old oak doors before, and briefly mentioned all right in that post. one of the most oft quoted night vale bits is the candle wax spiel from a memory of europe (the “time is like wax” speech). with these, and with countless other moments across the show, over and over again, wtnv is about the value of right now. of action. of effort. of choice.

what actually sets night vale perfection apart is that above all else, perfection is stagnant. the people in the condos float motionless and frozen. fading away. even when cecil says that they are able to be contacted, the action is still taken by the people left behind, imperfect: “Walking through where the condos once stood, you can hear their voices — but distantly, faintly. And if you reach out when you hear that voice, if you reach out and feel for them, you too will get a vision of some far-off place, a place that is, in its own way, in a way perhaps that can never be explained, perfect.” these people no longer do anything. they no longer live, even though they are presumably alive, in their own perfect way. the reason the condos offer no improvement is that improvement is growth, it’s movement, it’s action. improvement and perfection are antonyms. you improve for the sake of improvement, for betterment, rather than to attain perfection.

when cecil escapes from the condos, he does so through resistance, through fighting, through choosing imperfection actively. throughout the show, things happen because people try. they do. they live and they grow and they change and they discover and they fucking try. and when they don’t it’s to make a point about inaction, to show you that being static is easy and nice but that even in the face of all that, it’s important to try. and you try knowing you could fail. and you try knowing the odds are stacked, knowing that the world is chaotic and things don’t always happen for a reason. you try if it doesn’t personally affect you. you try if you have never tried before or if you couldn’t or didn’t last time. 

i promise i’m almost done but i couldn’t mention all that without saying something about how community is tied up so tight with those values that you can’t tear them apart. the way in which things happen is rarely because cecil does something on his own but because the town does something, together. relationships are built on communication and effort and trying, from one-on-one to city wide. the entire show is fundamentally built on balancing your inclusion in the community of night vale with your independence and ability (& sometimes duty) to act as a single person. you can stand alone, and if you must, you should, but you shouldn’t have to. and hopefully you don’t have to. 

disclaimer that i’m way behind on wtnv so i could be contradicted by more recent episodes and also this isn’t nearly long enough to really get Into It(tm) and also the wtnv has covered such a variety of topics that it’s very hard to make generalizations like this, but even so, i hope i’ve done it justice. also shoutout to cecilspeaks for all the quotes, here’s the full transcript for condos if anyone wants/needs it

anyway, on a final note, i think cecil really says it best so:

“A perfect place that you will never visit. And that is the best news of all. Listeners, I send you now back out into the night. And it’s dangerous out there, and it’s lonely, and it’s not perfect.

Goodnight, all of you here, goodnight, all of you listeners, and goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight.”

[aion-rsa]

James Wan Horror Movies Ranked

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James Wan has a new horror movie out this weekend, and it’s been far too long since we’ve been able to write that. As one of the singular genre filmmakers of his generation, Wan managed to launch three successful and pop culture defining horror franchises in less than a decade between Saw (2004), Insidious (2010), and The Conjuring (2013). And yet, the Australian director hasn’t stepped foot in a spooky house since 2016’s The Conjuring 2. Moving on to bigger and (maybe?) better things in Furious 7 and Aquaman, Wan’s new status as a blockbuster director caused many fans to wonder if his days in dark shadows were done. 

Which is why this weekend’s Malignant is such an inviting proposition. Five years after walking away from personally helming Ed and Lorraine Warren’s on-screen adventures, Wan’s returned to his roots with an original horror movie that’s not part of any franchise. What a novel concept. To celebrate this change of fortune, the editors at Den of Geek have put their heads together and voted, coming up with a definitive ranking of Wan’s horror movies. You can trust us.

7. Malignant

Sometimes it takes a while to get back into the swing of things. While Wan deserves credit for championing an original idea in the modern world of sequels, prequels, and spinoffs—he even turned down helming The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It for this!—daring gambles don’t always payoff for everyone. Which might be a polite way of saying that for some of us (although not all), Malignant is a disappointment.

Built entirely around a plot twist we’re not going to spoil here, Wan’s Malignant takes the familiar concept of a protagonist (Annabelle Wallis) being wrongfully accused for supernatural crimes, and turns it on its head. The actual twist however has left folks divided. Some applaud how bold it is while others of us found it fairly underwhelming, and lacking a satisfying subtext or cohesiveness to make it worthwhile. We’re all in agreement though, it’s a stylish bit of eye candy… and that Wan’s done better before. – David Crow

6. Insidious: Chapter 2

As the second installment of Wan and frequent collaborator Leigh Whannell’s Insidious franchise, there was a lot of anticipation over how this horror sequel would follow-up on the cliffhanger ending to the first film. If you don’t recall—and here there be spoilers, by the by—that movie ended on the shocking revelation that Patrick Wilson’s repressed and mild mannered father, Josh, had become possessed by a ghost which has been chasing him since childhood. Worse, this spirit caused him to kill Lin Shaye’s delightfully kooky Elise! (Don’t worry, her soul gets better.) What will happen next to the poor Lambert family?

Read more

Movies

13 Best Blumhouse Horror Movies Ranked

By David Crow and 3 others

Movies

Insidious: Is The Further Real?

By Tony Sokol

Something a lot more rote, as it turns out. This is not to say that Insidious: Chapter 2 is a bad movie; it’s simply a much lesser one than what came before. From the film doubling down on a monster not nearly as intriguing as the Lipstick Demon from the first film to the picture failing to expand on the strange astral plane of the Further in a meaningful way, Chapter 2 is just a tad underwhelming—a horror follow-up going through the motions. Still, it allows Wilson to play secretly evil, so that’s fun! – DC

5. Dead Silence

Dead Silence was DOA in theaters and critically panned when it debuted in 2007, yet after the movie became available as a home release it scraped together a small audience that was mostly composed of very specific genre fans: those who are just plain shit scared of ventriloquist dummies! Directed and written by the horror dream team of Wan and Whannell, Dead Silence stars True Blood’s Ryan Kwanten as Jamie Ashen, a young widower who slumps back to his hometown looking for answers following his wife’s ‘death by dummy.’ Dogging him on his quest is New Kid Donnie Wahlberg in a wild, scene-stealing performance as a detective who seemingly can’t stop preening his facial hair.

The mythical boogeywoman of the piece is Mary Shaw, a ventriloquist who was once lynched in the town after a performance went awry and a child later died by mysterious circumstances. Jamie’s family were an essential part of her lynching, and now Mary is on the warpath from beyond the grave.

Dead Silence is incredibly silly, but an important step in Wan’s directing career. Throughout the film he plays with the kind of masterful sound design and jump scares that he eventually refined down to a sublime craft. Just like one of Mary Shaw’s dolls, all the parts are there but the movie is only possessed by a little soul that doesn’t do too much damage to your nerves. – Kirsten Howard

4. Saw

The movie that made Wan a household name (at least among movie nerds and horror hounds), Saw became the biggest horror franchise of the 2000s and launched a grim new subgenre of exploitation that’s been derisively (if fairly) dubbed “torture porn” ever since. It’s therefore easy to forget Wan’s original Saw really isn’t one of those movies. Oh, people are tortured on-screen in this gnarly nightmare. And it is very horrific, to be sure.

Yet unlike the many subsequent Saw sequels that came later, plus copycats like the Hostel franchise, Saw doesn’t take perverse pleasure in its characters’ suffering or imagine the villain as some kind of antihero. Jigsaw was originally a chilling serial killer in the David Fincher mold, and his original film had a surprisingly minimal amount of gore. Most of the picture is really about the dreadful suspense of anticipation as we wait for something horrible to happen when two men wake up inside a dilapidated industrial bathroom and are told they need to saw off their own feet to survive.

In truth, if this same exact script (minus the grisly flashback sequences) was presented a one-act Off-Broadway play in 2004, it would’ve likely been hailed as edgy and boundary-pushing art. Instead we got a horror classic that spawned a memorable, if ultimately trashy, B-horror franchise after Wan and co-writer Whannell left the series following the first outing. Fair trade. – DC 

3. Insidious

Back in 2010 when Insidious was released, Blumhouse hadn’t yet become the horror behemoth it is today. So low budget but glossy horrors starring talented household names weren’t the norm. It wasn’t just these attributes that made Insidious a breakout which still holds up a decade later, however. It’s the fact that the movie is undeniably scary. It may use certain jump scare tactics at times but boy, do they work. Patrick Wilson and Rose Byrne star as a couple whose son is capable of astral projection, which has taken him into the nightmarish world of the Further and caused demonic figures to haunt the family. 

The first half of the movie will have you leaping out of your seat. The second half though is more of a comedy, marked by the arrival of psychic Elise (Lin Shaye) and her sidekicks, Tucker (Angus Sampson) and Specs (Leigh Whannell, who also wrote the screenplay). Made for just $1.5 million, Insidious is good-looking and distinctive, with scenes in the Further sharing an aesthetic with Dead Silence, and a mythology that clearly had legs. To date three sequels have been made, with a fourth confirmed last year. – Rosie Fletcher

2. The Conjuring 2

As a horror sequel done right, Wan’s follow-up to the biggest horror movie of his career felt like a palate cleanser for the director. After helming the successful but tragically troubled production of Furious 7, Wan returned to his roots and delivered a fiendishly designed thrill ride. In The Conjuring 2, we again follow Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga’s fictionalized takes on Ed and Lorraine Warren, this time to London as they investigate the infamous “Enfield Poltergeist” (spoiler alert: it’s a demon).

Once again Ed and Lorraine play the good samaritans and help a young family in desperate need, and Wan still keeps it wildly entertaining and suspenseful, if not necessarily fresh. But as important as his gliding camera set-ups and ability to create new iconic images of evil out of seeming whole cloth—hello, there demon Nun!—it’s the humanity in both of Wan’s Conjuring films which elevate them above the rest of their franchise. Never mind the ghosts; the scene of Wilson crooning Elvis Presley to some beleaguered children is the stuff of movie magic. – DC

1. The Conjuring

James Wan couldn’t have picked better subjects for his paranormal investigation franchise than Ed and Lorraine Warren, the controversial demonologists who left behind countless diaries and recorded accounts of demonic possession, haunted houses, and other supernatural events they claim to have witnessed over their decades-spanning careers. They even opened a museum full of spooky artifacts in the back of their Connecticut home. This is a couple who enjoyed digging into the occult, and with The Conjuring, Wan showed just how much he loved telling stories about the Warrens. 

Read more

Movies

The Conjuring Timeline Explained: From The Nun to The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It

By Daniel Kurland

Movies

How The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It Embraces Satanic Panic

By David Crow

The first film covers one of the Warrens’ most famous cases, the Perron family haunting, with more than a few embellishments thrown in for an effective ghost story. In the real-life account and the movie, Roger and Carolyn Perron (Ron Livingston and Lili Taylor) are haunted by an antagonistic spirit that wants their newly-purchased 18th-century farmhouse in Rhode Island all to itself. That’s where the Warrens come in to investigate the strange occurrences, like the smell of rotting flesh in the basement.

The chemistry between Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga, who bring the Warrens to life, is one of the movie’s greatest strengths, establishing one of the franchise’s most important themes: that love can defeat any evil. It’s their devotion to each other, and their will to help others in need, that allows them to overcome any supernatural obstacles in these movies. (It’s why the sequels spend so much time threatening to tear them apart.) More than the creepy set pieces—like a possessed Carolyn in the crawl space *shudder*—and the “based on a true story” tagline, it’s the Warrens as characters that people keep showing up for, and the first Conjuring cleverly sells their love story to an audience just expecting jump scares and demons. – John Saavedra

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[wearethekat]

June Book Reviews

Winterkeep: sequel to Graceling and Bitterblue. A prickly girl in a difficult situation, who’s strongly hinted at being ace. I liked catching up with Bitterblue, who has recovered nicely from everything she’s gone through. also, this introduces a new steampunk continent. but the big draw here was the telepathic fox, who had his own POV chapters. hilariously and believably a fox.

Igniting Darkness: catching up on an old series, featuring medieval France and Brittany where the old gods are real. plus, assassin nuns. I’m still very fond of these, and LaFevers does a solid job in writing a believably Not Modern teenager voice.

King of Scars: some further reading after watching the Shadow and Bone TV series. you know, it was very unfair of me to critique the characters for failing to shoot Cape Man in the head despite numerous openings. the man has proved remarkably hard to get rid of. this was good, but it only reminded me how much more I liked Bardugo’s Ninth House, which was absolutely genius. I want the sequel now. (it ended on a cliffhanger. evil.)

Britannia Mews: read this on recommendation from Jo Walton’s blog. it was described as a “furrowed middlebrow novel.” this is more or less accurate. but it’s weirdly compelling after the MC makes her first catastrophic mistake and grows up a little. of course, it’s about Class as only a 1940s British novel can be. however, Sharp doesn’t really cohere the narrative into a proper novel. It follows the life of one family, with all the messy ends implied in that, and doesn’t really satisfyingly conclude. but apparently this was somewhat of an exception for the author, and her other books are witty. I will be reading more of these.

Miss Lacey’s Last Fling: reread. Traditional Regency romance about a young woman who goes to Town and has a great deal of fun. very good, but still not Heyer.

The Gentle Art of Fortune Hunting: perfect. genius. beautiful. (also, gay). I was up until 2:30 reading this, which was painful the next day at work, but I did not regret it! this is the perfect Regency I was looking for, with bonus meditations on the bogusness of class and the entire concept of “fortune hunting.” I love KJ Charles. can’t wait for her upcoming Will and Kim novel.

One Last Stop: this was actually a bit of a disappointment after all the hype. It was a sweet romance, but the book lagged, with large stretches where nothing seemed to happen. what this really needed was a strong secondary plot, like the politics in Red White and Royal Blue. plus, the fantasy elements weren’t that well fleshed out. still a solid novel and a worthwhile read, though.

Aunt Maria: reread. this is one of the weird DWJ books, about a girl’s great-aunt (actually I think Aunt Maria is some sort of in-law, but I forget) who is toxically abusive and has a strange and sinister hold over the town of Cranbury. gosh, this was a very odd book, but the prose was absolutely perfect, like all DWJ books.

The Twisted Ones: one of T. Kingfisher’s (Ursula Vernon) horror books. this was genuinely scary, but not nearly as much as her second horror book, The Hollow Places. it’s something in that we get an explanation in this book for the horror elements, which immediately makes them less scary. Ursula Vernon has a real talent for horror, even in her supposedly fluffy fantasy romances.

Forget This Ever Happened: read this one because I loved another book by the author, which featured PIRATES. and swashbuckling, a very competent lady, and the assassin-sent-to-kill-you-becomes-part-of-your-found-family. this book did not contain pirates, and instead had a disturbing Midwestern town. this was fundamentally disappointing. the sapphic romance was very sweet, though. 

Fireheart Tiger: this was at the beginning of the month, so I don’t remember terribly much. Vietnam-flavored novella with a sapphic lady. I rather liked this book. I’ll probably go read more books by this author.

Empress of Forever: SF novel with nearly magic-level tech. I didn’t like this book that much. it was worth reading, but I just didn’t click with the characters.

The Long Way To A Small Angry Planet: I loved this book. I can’t remember why I didn’t pick up this series earlier. soothing SF novel with found family, focusing more on cool aliens and interpersonal relationships that Big Drama. this is SF with a close focus, rather than a big intergalactic war. I will absolutely be tracking down and reading the rest of the series. 

[ganzeer]

Grant Morrison was impressed. "I've never seen anything like it", he said, peering over a particular piece in my portfolio. An intricate thing, letter-pressed on handmade Indian hemp paper, something you can only really appreciate up close. Morrison seemed to be fixated on it, and it was then that HEAVY METAL's managing editor, Rantz, stepped up to ask me if I'd be interested in doing stuff like that for the magazine – Art pieces they could insert between the comics segments, singular pages of visual communication. Of course I was interested! HEAVY METAL fueled my demented mind in my younger years. If I was going to be given the chance to be part of its revival, and partake in messing with the heads of future generations, then my answer would most certainly be yes.

I was there with Zak Smith, who was showing painted pages from this outrageous Russian prostitution/espionage graphic novel he'd been working on. But my first contact with HEAVY METAL's new regime was actually through Dan Goldman, who himself was in talks with Rantz. "They want to make comics dangerous again" is what Dan told me, and that –as I'm sure you can imagine– was music to my yearning ears.

Now I hadn't read any of the magazine's latest issues, but I suspected with Grant Morrison on board as editor-in-chief that it might be good. I mean, it depends which side of Grant is at work really. You have overtly-optimistic-superhero-fanboy Grant, and you have haunted-by-demons Grant. And you would expect the latter would be the one helming HEAVY METAL magazine, especially –especially– given the times we live in now. To my disappointment, however, it seemed like neither side was at work at all, because Grant Morrison is largely a figurehead at HEAVY METAL, which is all too content to just be using Grant's name. But this I found out later, many months after pitching this cover:

I'd seen that they'd gotten Ron English to do the cover for their relaunch issue, which I saw as a sign most promising. Ron is not only a very skillful street-artist, but everything he creates is charged by a kind of biting satire that is most demonic in its social commentary. Outstanding body of work, really. So between Ron's cover, Dan's "pitch", Morrison's involvement, and well, HEAVY METAL history... I was in. But I never heard back from Rantz about my cover pitch. Not even months later when Grant was looking at other work of mine with some admiration. But he did say he'd like me to provide some pieces for the inside of the magazine, which I was totally happy to do. Meanwhile, Zak's tediously painted espionage comic had them by the balls, and they said they were eager to serialize it in the magazine. Which was perfect, because Zak is exactly the type of person you tap into if you want to make comics dangerous again. If you want to make anything dangerous again.

With a couple of signed copies of the magazine's latest edition under our arms, Zak and I went to get drinks in celebration. But then I went home and read the magazine.

It's really, really, really bad. Awful thing without the slightest hint of substance. I think people really misunderstand what the original HEAVY METAL was. It wasn't just cool-looking mechanicy sci-fi cyborgy things and space titties. I mean, sure it had its fair share of space titties, but that's only taking the magazine for face value. The stories made you stop and think, re-assess your values, and examine the world with new eyes. The reasons the stories did that is that a great many of them were translations of the French comics that first appeared in METAL HURLANT, and HURLANT was a magazine started not by old timers trying to cash in on something’s reputation, but by a couple of daring madmen when wanted to bring some new batshit crazy spunk to comics. 36-year old Moebius, 30-year old Druillet, and 27-year old Dionnet who served as editor-in-chief.

Grant Morrison is 57. Kevin Eastman, publisher & editor of HEAVY METAL, is 55. Rantz, I don't know much about but I would put him at 49.

Now listen, I'm no ageist. It's okay to be old. But its also okay to acknowledge that you lose much of your drive the older you get, typically speaking anyway. I know this because 36-year old me is nowhere nearly as fearless as 28-year old me. And I've only got 4 years before I hit 40 and my brain chemistry is altered yet again. And if we're going to be honest, the comic book industry suffers from many of the same ailments dominating our political sphere. Namely: the preeminence of old white men sitting around big meeting tables, devising ways to preserve the status quo while counting their exploitation money.

Morrison is a super-nice guy and a very fine storyteller, but he is finest when he's genuinely motivated, and I don't think he's been genuinely motivated for a very long time. And he has clearly been comfortable serving as a scribe-by-assignment for the better part of his career. The comic book industry as it stands today has served Morrison too well for him to want to rattle any cages. Eastman is a genuine rebel, but he hasn't created a single new thing since Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in 1983. There was Tundra Publishing, the noble experiment that it was in the 90′s, when Eastman was connected to that generation’s rebels: Alan Moore, Bill Sienkiewicz, Eddie Campbell, Dave McKean, Mike Allred, et al. Today however, age and wealth will keep Eastman way too insulated from tapping into the radical rumble occurring on the fringes of culture required to make comics dangerous again.

The new METAL HURLANT will not be born out of a business investment. It will not be born out of the purchase of a brand-name. And it certainly won't be born by attaching Grant Morrison's name to said brand-name. It'll only be born when a bunch of outcast artists and storytellers band together and decide that it's time to fuck shit up.

Yes, reading that issue of HEAVY METAL was sad and painful. What was even more painful was getting the "brief" from Rantz for the illustration soon thereafter: Something "valentines-themed". For an issue they were releasing in February.

Valentines-themed.

To add insult to injury, I was offered something like less than a hundred dollars. Here's the thing: I am okay doing work for absolutely no money at all if I feel the work is important and necessary. The short story I wrote for the forthcoming anthology from Temple University Press, for example, I did for no money. But the anthology's theme("Who Will Speak for America?") was relevant and inspiring. Valentine's, on the other hand, does not strike me as a burning necessity. Now I'm all for subversiveness. I know if I really wanted to, I could’ve sneaked in something worthwhile between the lines. But you have to ask yourself: if this job wasn't requested of me, is it the sort of thing that I might be inclined to do anyway?

If the answer is a firm no, then there's no fooling yourself. And there's definitely no need to do it if you aren't being fairly compensated for your time. Especially when they're throwing big money at the wrong people.

Evidently, when it was time to put the issue out, someone came up with the sensible conclusion that "valentine's themed" does not really scream attitude, so they called it the "sex special".

Yeah. Space titties.

Zak's comic was nowhere to be found in that issue, and he has yet to be contacted about it again, which sounds super-weird to me because they seemed all over it when I was there. And Zak is a respectable artist, operating quite successfully in the gallery circuits of the art world. He's collaborated with China Miéville for fuck's sake, and he's a former porn star! To have someone like that be interested in comics is a blessing for the comicbook industry, because you know he's bound to bring something new to the scene. I'm not saying that it’s a guarantee of good work, but the fact that it will surely be different from the material conjured up by Suburban Comicbook Guy is most certainly a plus. I do not for the life of me understand how this person could have a graphic novel in the works and not have publishers clamoring at his feet to get it into their catalogues. It's really absurd.

It's probably for the better though, because this incarnation of HEAVY METAL will not have any influence on comics or culture at large. Space titties will not make comics any better, nor will realistic sword and sorcery paintings, nor will a Sex Special issue. No matter whose name you slap on the cover.

Frankly speaking, it is a bullet that I'm very glad I dodged. Because I'm already making comics dangerous again, but I'm doing it my way.

Ganzeer Denver, CO September 2017

[sinceileftyoublog]

Live Picks: 6/4

Anderson .Paak

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Ariana Grande, United Center

With finger-snapping beats, skronking bass, and remarkably buoyant vocal performances, Ariana Grande’s topped herself mere months later. If Sweetener was Grande’s tour de force of empathy, thank u, next is everything at once: Over a year removed from the Manchester arena bombing that shook her, Grande looks back on simultaneous trauma, relationships started and failed because of it, and her quest for self-love, all in seeming real time.

Written and recorded in the wake of the death of rapper and Grande’s ex-boyfriend Mac Miller, as well as the dissolution of her engagement with SNL’s Pete Davidson, thank u, next is an essential journey that starts with a self-critical woman seeking the unattainable. Down-tempo opening track “imagine” immediately references Miller’s death; its atmospheric instrumentals eventually give way to high-pitched shrieks and dramatic strings, symbolizing Grande’s initial realization that she doesn’t live in the world she wants to. However, this realization is a catalyst for self-actualization. She reframes healthy neediness as something good because it makes the other person feel good. On “NASA”, she affirms the need for her to be alone (“You don’t wanna leave me, but I’m tryna self-discover / Keep me in your orbit and you’ll know you’ll drag me under”). And “bloodline”, “bad idea”, and “make up” see her giving into her desire to numb pain through sex.

But these aren’t even the toughest songs on the record. “fake smile” (which includes an expertly placed sample of Wendy Rene’s “After Laughter (Comes Tears)”, is a direct response to “needy”, Grande now refusing to put on a happy face when she’s not feeling that way. The effectively warbling “ghostin” is not about dating, but about the ghosts of her past who visit her in her dreams, affecting her every waking thought. And the dark “in my head” is probably the most Davidson-centric track here, wherein she comes to realize that she called off their engagement not just because the trauma of Miller’s death had become too much to deal with, but because he also just wanted her for sex. Perhaps most impressively, in this context, single “7 rings” isn’t just a shallow brag track, but necessary therapy.

Of course, the title track is probably her best and best known track by now, the ultimate jam about learning, maturity, and being yourself, the only pop song to match the emotional empathy of Robyn in the past decade. But the album is classic because it’s an artistic statement that extends beyond its own borders, from associated videos to Grande’s stream-of-consciousness Twitter account. Closer “break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored” is inseparable from its video; in it, the girlfriend of the love interest is actually another version of Grande. It all serves to promote her strength in herself. It’s been a long, worthwhile journey for Grande and for all of us.

8.4/10

Singer Normani and Pittsburgh pop duo Social House open.

Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever, Thalia Hall

One of the best guitar bands of the past few years, having released a relentlessly catchy EP (The French Press) and debut album to match Hope Downs, Australia’s Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever return to Chicago for a show at Thalia Hall. Even after two busy years, the band continues to debut new music. April saw the release of a single, “In the Capital” b/w “Ready My Mind”, and the band has been playing a new song, “Big Fence”, live.

Melbourne rockers RVG open.

Anderson .Paak & The Free Nationals, Huntington Bank Pavilion

Executive produced by Dr. Dre, Anderson .Paak’s Ventura is a quick follow-up to the disappointing Oxnard that’s solid, but safe. From the get-go, the skill at hand, in both the singing, rapping, and instrumentation takes reigns from the lyrics or themes. It’s a bold move to open your album with a song featuring a typically dexterous and overwhelmingly awesome verse from none other than Andre 3000, and .Paak’s slow and smooth delivery doesn’t quite keep the song in check. Overall, the record sees him at various stages of relationships, wanting a lover to come back to him on the opener, wanting to ignite a flame on blue eyed soul jam “Make It Better” (which doesn’t use Smokey Robinson nearly enough), and questioning a woman on the freaky keyboard funk-laden, two part “Reachin’ 2 Much”. On “Chosen One”, he wants a woman that loves him for him. On “Twilight”, he tells a lover that she guides him through the darkness--all you really care about is the arpeggio horn line and retro Pharrell beat. On closer “What Can We Do?”, he contemplates his next relationship--all you really care about is the mere presence of the late, great Nate Dogg. This is standard stuff with a great cast making the most they can out of the material.

Ventura succeeds best when .Paak gets creative with the format or delves into his sociopolitical perspective. The short, funny “Good Heels” is a conversation disguised as a slow jam, he and Jazmine Sullivan contemplating how she’s gonna sneak in and out of the house to get her stuff back when his girlfriend is coming home. On “Yada Yada”, .Paak expresses his gratitude at being able to make music in general, let alone the type of music he wants to make: “Chicken wings and sushi, I’ve gotten used to the perks / Narrowly escapin’ the holy war on the turf.” And the political funk of “King James” pays tribute to the biggest star in the NBA of the past couple decades, someone who also happens to be a philanthropist and advocate for the black community at large, someone for .Paak to look up to and aspire to be like.

Too often, though, .Paak’s grand realizations come in the form of thoughts like on “Winners Circle”: “If I know that I can get it, then I’ve already had it” isn’t really deserving of any sort of praise, despite its honesty and newness for .Paak. Songs of devotion and love might be novel for him, too, but the fact that he’s overshadowed by his guests make you wonder whether he’ll ever return to the greatness of an album like Malibu.

6.1/10

Bass maestro Thundercat, who we saw at Day For Night 2016, and rapper Noname, who had our #1 album of last year and stood out at last year’s Pitchfork Music Festival and the inaugural House of Vans show, open.

U.S. Girls, Empty Bottle

Experimental pop band U.S. Girls, fronted by Meg Remy, continues to tour off of In A Poem Unlimited, one of our favorite albums of last year, and bring their much heralded live show to the Empty Bottle tonight.

Badge Époque (Maximilian 'Twig' Turnbull of U.S. Girls) and Black Culture ensemble Mourning [A] BLKstar open.

Simon Joyner, Hideout

We previewed Simon Joyner’s set at Empty Bottle last year:

“Omaha singer-songwriter Simon Joyner is the type to have laid back and made himself a steady presence in the Americana world. Those he’s influenced and collaborated with, like Beck, Conor Oberst, and John Darnielle, have sold more records than he has, but his music remains just as present. [2017]’s Step Into The Earthquake followed 2015′s excellent Grass, Branch, & Bone, which we spoke to him about at length in our feature Palpable Pain.”

Folk singer-songwriter Max Knouse and Girls of the Golden West (the project of singers Marydee Reynolds and Amalea Tschilds) open.

[imeugene]

BMX PIRATE

I’d say between the mid 2000′s and early 2010′s there was a shift happening in BMX and in the larger world also. Internet was finally fast enough for streaming and downloading. To the young kids who grew up on Youtube... it used to take minutes to even load a single picture. Those were the days of dial up where downloading, uploading, or streaming were not really a viable option. The early days of the internet. This is all changed when cable modem and DSL were becoming cheaper and more mainstream. Because of this shift internet was becoming a more viable option in marketing, business, and just life in general. Slow speeds of before and the general animosity towards computers still existed but that was all starting to change. It was becoming increasingly noticeable that the computer was not a fad as some have imagined it to be.

Like everything else in the world BMX has always been a slow adopter. Magazines were rife and still very mainstream, websites merely existed to exist, and social media/networking was limited to forums. The BMX internet was really scattered and I credit the TheComeUp for tying it all together. It allowed a certain centralness to it all. No longer did you have to check every messageboard and every website to see if they had worthwhile updates, it was all curated personally by Adam22 at the time. It’s through the high speed internet something like TCU thrived. The compilation of videos posted on the net. Because their was a single source of videos, viewership of those videos rised significantly. It was becoming a viable source of marketing... but BMX is late to everything so it was relegated to b-roll clips, skatepark edits, and videos made by hungry kids who somehow figured out how to upload SD footage to the internet. The internet definitely wasn’t the primary source that everything revolves around like it is today.

DVD’s were still very marketable and existed in a very strong way. In the minds of everyone, this was still the only way to properly consume BMX. It was the outlet to the best filmers and editors who have yet to be reckoned with. Sure there wasn’t nearly half the amount of footage out today compared to then but you knew that whoever put the effort to make it happen, really tried to and the quality showed. DVD’s are almost a rarity now but back then with Props, Shook, and every other company releasing something every year or so it was still steady source. 

Torrents are what changed everything. In today’s world streaming is what’s happening and we as a present day society as a whole is ok with not really owning anything. That sentiment wasn’t shared back then and torrents were how you owned something but didn’t own something. At first it was a novel idea that replaced the p2p programs of the day. Music industry got hit first and took down Napster the first popular downloader with it. New ones like Limewire and Kazaa sprung up but they’d only exist for a limited time. Torrent was a new approach that people rung as safe and the new alternative. This spread like wildfire and the whole controvery regarding the Piratebay only gave it more power. It was only time that BMX was hit the same as everything else in the digital medium and the person to do it was Poatzer.

This guy uploaded nearly every video in the BMX industry. In full quality too. It was a time if you were in the knowing you could rest assure that Poatzer would upload the newest video within weeks time. It was almost disappointing if he didn’t. I’m sure the industry knew what was up but were entirely pissed that they were powerless to stop it. When I say nearly every video got upped during this time period, I mean it. 

In one hand it is entirely bad to take a huge source of revenue from BMX companies, on the other hand the BMX industry has illegally used songs from underground musicians who were clearly not millionaires also. It’s something that happened to everybody equally, everyone participated so it’s hard to point fingers. I think Props did pay for all their songs or at least got permission and props to them but the rest of BMX most definitely did not.

I’ve been wanting to write this for a while now and I don’t know what else to say. I tried digging things up and asking around but it was fruitless. I do know that Poatzer is probably Russian. I came to this conclusion cause the leaks seemed to have started in a russian torrent site. I asked on Instagram a popular Russian account and they seem to have known of him but didn’t follow up with my request to interview him. Poatzer you out there, I still want to do it! Exciting amount of information. I know. 

I haven’t seen his name in a while. Torrenting is nearly dead so that could be it. Maybe he’s done with BMX or the industry figured out and dealt with him somehow. I don’t know but I do want to thank Poatzer and I’m sure A LOT of other people want to also. For the broke BMX kid you were doing God’s work. Like a BMX Robin Hood. A whole segment of generation saw his ripped videos and were inspired to do more with BMX or just keep it around. Let me reiterate that web videos were not as prevalent and Instagram was just maybe a thought in someone’s mind. Myself and I’m sure a lot of pros were about it but just can’t admit it. It was because of him that a lot of people had access to quite sizable library of videos that otherwise let’s face it a lot of people wouldn’t watch. Was it bad for the industry? Absolutely, there’s no justifying it but it is what it is and BMX isn’t immune from worldwide changes and trends. It’s not like he brought down the BMX DVD personally. Just a small cog in all that but no one owns anything anymore. DVD’s are dead. It’s all streaming and free, even though there is most definitely hidden cost to it all. There’s no use for Poatzer or anyone like him anymore. Somewhere in Russia I think, there is a guy with stacks of DVD’s he imported from the US and he made it his mission to share it all. 

[williambriar]

Augury Through Cat Puke and Tarot

DOMAGICK CHALLENGE DAY 2

I feel like I was kicked in the teeth this morning. One of my cats jumped up on the bookshelf and knocked down what I'd I spent a week crafting with Malphas. One of its parts cracked right down the middle. It wasn't just a trinket. I'd spent days charging it with positivity, security, and creativity. Now I either need to repair it or start again. Worse yet, when I came home one of them had puked spectacularly all over my desk chair. I couldn't help but think the universe was trying to tell me something. Last night's question kept coming back to me. "I'm a writer, aren't I?"

I suppose I am. I do, after all, write. Sometimes I even enjoy it. I blog at demonolatry.org and have a good time doing it. I'm may ache after my time at my desk, but I don't resent that. It feels like time well spent. I feel the same way about the posts here. I'm not sure how many people are reading, but at least I'm being given a chance to express myself.

Other times, writing feels like a burden. I don't mean the business aspect of it. Although marketing yourself on the internet is never fun, I've gotten used to that over the years. Perhaps not savvy at it, but I recognize that it is a task I cannot ignore. Yet that isn't the part of writing I'm referring to, or even the Dreaded Novel I Cannot Finish. Rather, it is that people think of me as a writer. It is what they expect me to do with my days, and what they expect me to be good at, and to be satisfied by. Writing has always been at the core of who I am. I fear that saying it no longer makes me happy a good portion of the time will make me seem like an entirely different person: a lesser person, someone not as worthwhile in their eyes.

The people I admire most are storytellers. A few have been published—many times, in fact. Others struggle to place their stories. They remain among the most gifted tale-tellers I know. I always feel blessed when they open up and share one with me. In all likelihood, most of them wouldn't even consider themselves storytellers at all. They might say they have the gift of the gab, that they can make people laugh, or that they are natural healers. Indeed, they should be allowed to define themselves, but they remain storytellers to me, and they seem a little bit magical because of that.

Two tell stories with something other than words. The teacher of my sound healing class can spin tales with graceful movements alone. On the other hand, my husband weaves stories with color and light. He paints in three mediums now, with oil being the latest he's trying to master. He once wrote together, but he could never quite express with words what he can with the brush and he always felt as if he was trying to catch up to me.

I admit it sometimes frustrated me that such a knowledge gap existed between us, but I knew he would catch up. I've often wondered if the joy went out of writing for me when he moved onto painting. Deciding that would be the easy but not true; in many ways, I prefer to work alone. Still, I often resented the excitement with which he raced to his easel while I trudged to my desk. I knew fibromyalgia and all shit-ton of other health conditions made harder and harder for me to sit there, but I also realized stress worsened fibromyalgia. After years away from drawing, I finally tried my hand art again to spend time with husband and to relieve that stress.

When absorbed in lines and color, the world disappears for me in the way like it used to when I wrote fiction. I cannot connect with stories that way anymore. I have to fight through fibro fog to write at all. I was amazed when I could edit a friend's work so easily the other day. It took me hours, but I could concentrate in a way that I can only with visual art and meditation now. I know if I keep plugging away at it, that I can probably could force those neural pathways open and write again… but I don't want to do so.

I think that's what my spirits were trying to tell me when they brought up the Novel That Dare Not Be Named and all its labyrinth symbolism again. It was a story about a man who felt himself changing and became terrified of that change. I felt myself changing while writing it and became similarly afraid. Back then, I was certain that any metamorphosis providing me with the key to happiness would also guarantee I'd end up alone. I still fear that, only now I can see that my chrysalis involves art. The tarot deck I consulted today said no change will come at all unless I am willing to admit what I want, no matter the risk. I've known this all along.

Not so long ago, the writer I admire most suggested I take a break from writing. Other than my current commitments, that's what I'm going to do. I will even play what if with myself and pretend I am not a writer, at least not a professional one. I may be good at writing, I can support my friends and all they do, but I do not have to write anything new this months unless it makes me happy.

Somehow I forgot that muses must be nurtured. They must live in a healthy environment to thrive. I've kept mine in a coal mine, working him 24/7 for years. Even when I wasn't selling my work, all my writing was aimed at eventual sale or getting me forward in some way. I stopped writing for fun—except for the few bits and bobs I mentioned before. I'll keep up with those because there's no reason not to; it makes no sense to throw away what still works, does it?

In light of what I'm figuring out about myself, I'm ratifying my original plans to bring them more in line with working with daemons of love and understanding. Therefore:

EVERY DAY – I will write my novel for one hour, without planning anything in advance, using a soundtrack I created for inspiration. I will not judge or even looking back at the work until the end of the month.  Listen to the soundtrack. Meditate on and disperse any anxieties it brings up with dance and sound. I accomplished this today.

EVERY DAY – At minimum, sing the enns of the daemons I’m working with and run their energy through my chakras. I accomplished this today as well.

EVERY DAY – Make some new art, even if all I do is photograph or draw something I love. If possible, I will listen to upbeat music while I work. I haven't managed this yet, but I still plan to after dinner. I feel like saying I want to make is major movement on this front, since I've been nearly paralyzed to say it out loud and disappoint people I love. In addition to completing day two of the #developingyoureye challenge through Wordpress and snapping the photo you can find below, I took a snapshot of the angel which sits on my porch. Do you love her as much as I do? You can see her at the top of this post.

And, of course…

EVERY WEDNESDAY – Attend a sound healing class here in my city.

MARCH 10 to 12 – Attend workshop on the how to use the 5 Warrior Syllables.

[fic-dreamin]

5.0 out of 5 stars ... a review that basically said it was predictable but excellent. It seemed to be an great read in ...

4.0 out of 5 stars Great overall story, but not happy with the small details. If you've ever read one of my reviews, which I doubt you have, you know that I'm not very good at them, but some things I just have too review. I greatly enjoy reading The Shadow Campaign books and I look forward to the newest entry every year, and have yet to be disappointed. But while I enjoy where the story is going and the general overall narrative, my problem lies in the smaller details. Some minor things that make me stop and go “wait, what?” For example, I had always believed that Marcus was ignorant of Winter’s true gender and at the beginning of the book that seems to remain true, but towards the end it seems like all of sudden he knows she’s female. He refers to her as she and I’m there wondering when had that happened. Its several small inconsistencies like that that takes away the overall enjoyment of the story for me, which breaks up the flow of the narrative. So while I am already looking forward to the next installment in the series I really hope they work on those minute details. Go to Amazon

5.0 out of 5 stars Loved it. I loved this book. I've always been a sucker for military fantasy, and this has been a great series. This book continues to keep the action exciting, while the characters get to develop and interact in very human ways, and the story continues the series' pattern of avoiding the most obvious plotlines and keeping the reader in suspense. Also the cliffhanger at the end is a killer, but in a good way. It's gonna be tough to wait for the next entry in the series. Go to Amazon

1.0 out of 5 stars Disappointed... Let me start by saying that I'm a tremendous fan of Django Wexler. I eagerly devoured the first three novels of The Shadow Campaign. Unfortunately, this fourth book left a lot to be desired. The plot was weak, the action slow, and the story line anti-climatic. I nearly stopped reading three times in order to move on to another book, but kept at it out of respect for Wexler's previous work. This novel just felt forced, like a follow-up was needed but the inspiration wasn't there. I was disappointed that Guns of the Empire merely served as a filler and set-up for another novel, and then didn't really provide that exciting cliff-hanger that creates the crazy anticipation for the next edition in the series. Sadly, that might be my last foray into the Shadow Campaigns. Go to Amazon

5.0 out of 5 stars You're killing me Django! Your writing is fantastic, your characters are perfect ,and the story is completely thrilling and immersive! But you know what?? This was book 3 and I expected a conclusion! Instead I have been further sucked in and captivated. Now I must wait for you to write the next part of this saga. Which I will do because,well, I have no damn choice. But I do so with barely contained frustration *glares* And know this Mr Wexler, if some ill fated harm befalls you and you leave this world before finishing the series, I will hunt you like a penitent damned into the after life to seek the culmination of your story!!*DISCLAIMER* Obviously I wish you only good health and a long life! You've become one of my favorite authors :-) Go to Amazon

2.0 out of 5 stars Unlike the others in the series, this one is pure disappointment. First things first, i love the other books in this series. If you haven't read them, they are great and well worth it.I did not enjoy this book. Unlike in the other books, no apparent progress happens in the story at all, in fact, it might have been mostly steps backwards but for no reason. I would have rathered skip this story entirely but move to the next book and read a foreward that said "These characters died and these two things happened in a rather bleak and empty spring/summer, and now we move on with the story"In the end, i was rooting against pretty much everyone in the book, just because i was tired of it. Go to Amazon

4.0 out of 5 stars Another great addition to the series The series to date has been an excellent, engaging and thoughtful take on the genre. Wexler's characters have an impressive amount of depth and manage to challenge several of the recurrent stereotypes and themes common to fantasy literature. Some of the villains could possibly use some work as they can be a bit cardboard at times, but otherwise very solid writing and surprisingly unpredictable storytelling.Note: Some folks toss around 5 star ratings all the time, I don't but Guns of the Empire earned the hell out of these four stars, seriously a worthwhile addition to the series. Go to Amazon

4.0 out of 5 stars Worth the wait. The saga continues. While Winters new family crumbles around her First Counsel Janus continues his march towards his Grail, Elysium not knowing what lives below it. The queen finds her king, some loose ends are tied up just as some start to unwind...I would recommend this to anyone who enjoys epic fantasy that leans toward the dark, though as good as it is don't start D Wexler's tale here begin at the beginning with the first book. You'll soon be where i am, eagerly awaiting his next chapter in this epic tale of conquest and awakening, though it may have been better to let sleeping dogs lie....... Go to Amazon