#which whatever but this is supposed to be an impartial stage

[pulquedeguayaba]

Nothing like being the marginal reference for racist rhetoric usual gringo style

[a-pigeons-soliloquy]

Eurovision 2023 has begun and I’m too hyped to go to bed so now I’m thinking about a hannibal eurovision au!!!

like for hannibal we have 2 main possibilities:

hannibal and his weird suits and harpsichord representing lithuania (or maybe even italy) - lyricless acts aren’t allowed so I think he’d sing lowly in that slightly monotonous but really captivating way some people do and he’d be one of the favourite acts because his voice is really hot lol (he sings in lithuanian/italian of course)

hannibal as the perfect charming well-dressed host (alana and chilton as co-hosts?? both hannibal and alana being visibly repelled by chilton, who is horribly cheesy and trying way too hard, and also trying desperately and very not smoothly to promote his new single despite being a washed up talent show one hit wonder who was last relevant in like. 2008 lol. by the end of the night chilton has ‘unfortunately suffered an accident’ and is no longer able to host) (which country is this and if it’s lithuania why are alana and chilton hosts? shh)

also host!hannibal has a thing for performer!will and tries his best not to let it show because he’s kind of supposed to be impartial to the acts but he’s terrible at hiding it and all the commentators and the internet are laughing at him for the whole event

for will it’s a little harder because the us isn’t in eurovision so he’d either have to represent the uk (bc hugh) or perhaps maybe even france (bc louisiana, also I believe hugh speaks french anyway) or we could take many creative liberties and set this au in a world where the us does compete for some reason!

if he’s an act, it’s probably an underdog act bc I can’t imagine will doing any kind of promotion before the competition haha (whatever his act is it’s probably dark and edgy. unless this is slutty evil will, in which case it’s still something dark but the lighting is blood red and the whole thing is quite sexual)

(will sings every sexual/innuendo line while staring directly at hannibal. he even sings a particularly descriptive line in lithuanian. someone in the audience catches hannibal’s expression. it becomes a meme)

he could also be one of hannibal’s backing singers/dancers?

or a stage hand/tech guy who finds hannibal killing chilton a guy backstage lol

jack is the executive supervisor of eurovision/will’s longsuffering pr guy/manager who scouted will for the competition but is starting to deeply regret it (rip)

beverly, jimmy and brian are will’s co-performers or his entourage/supporters (beverly to support will, price because he gets to go to eurovision and zeller because price dragged him along)

etc etc this is so silly but I kind of love it

[tatyana-dreaming]

Eugene Onegin: Finale Analysis

*apologies in advance for a LONG POST! any TYPOS! and also that the Russian has been latinized (is that what we say?)*

I have often read opinions and observations about the finale of Eugene Onegin along the lines of “there’s no new theme;” it’s “not as intense as the Letter scene;” it’s “anticlimactic...” etc. (those last two comments are found in Eugene Onegin: The Opera Lively Guide by Luiz Gazzola).

Clearly, these are just opinions and I’m not here to disprove anything... but I am here to retaliate with a whole lot of love for this particular 14 minutes of music so buckle up :) I’m going to try to mainly be objective here and just offer my observations/analysis. Maybe you’ll find some newfound appreciation along the way...and please pitch in if you have your own comments or have noticed things I haven’t necessarily picked up on!

Before we start, you may want to pull a recording of the finale (this one is my favorite of course), and potentially your favorite CD/recording of Eugene Onegin, if you want to listen along and compare. If I had more time and skills I would have done this for you in a video or added trimmed audio bits throughout this post but alas. Maybe one day! For now, enjoy these screencaps from the 2007 Carsen production at the Met with Fleming and Hvorostovsky.

1. Gazzola points this out in his book - and thank goodness, because I’m not sure I would have made the connection myself. The final scene opens with a motif that is more or less a repetition of Gremin’s theme (in rhythm, at the very least), “Lyubvi Vsye Rozrasti Pokorni/Love conquers all ages,’” foreshadowing Tatyana’s decision/steadfastness to the mature, stable love or contement, or whatever we want to call this - we can have an analysis of ‘love’ in Eugene Onegin in another post! Already I’m thinking back to the opening of the opera when Larina and Filipyevna sing in unison “Privichka svishe name dana, zamyena shchastiyu ona / Habit is sent us from above in place of happiness.” Tatyana’s mother used to read and dream like Tayana herself and was even in love, but eventually had to marry someone else and “became resigned and settled down.”

And as @lizlensky​ recently reminded me, of course Filipyevna did not get to marry for love either, not that Tatyana was really listening to her story. In fact, maybe I’m looking far into deeply, but it seems to me the strings underneath this “Gremin motif” at the opening of the finale and also when Tatyana eventually sings to that tune “Onegin, ya togda molozhe/Onegin, I was younger then”  are also mimicking the strings underneath Filipyevna when she sings the morning after the Letter Scene, explaining how her mind is getting older and reflecting upon her youth (I’m generalizing a bit - Tatyana certainly isn’t complaining about having an old brain but she is thinking of the past). Make of that what you will! But it gave me chills.

2. Oh no, I’m already getting ahead of myself though. Before Onegin even comes on the scene, we also hear what some call the “Fate motif” but what I prefer to call the “Dream motif” (if it is fate, why does it follow Tatyana all over dreamy Act I but disappears except for this tiny reminiscence? But of course, up for discussion as it’s the prelude/introduction to the opera, and it comes back when Yevgeni does, haunting her like a ghost, which I suppose is fate-y). Here it is again when Tatyana sings “Kak budto snova dyevochkoi ya stala/It’s as if I’m a young girl again” - which is then followed by what I might personally call the fate theme, since it foreshadows the anguish Tatyana will face when she is rejected in Act I, and before she rejects Onegin in Act III.

This is where I wish I had an audio clip but I think you know what I mean; it’s the really dramatic climax that comes right when Tatyana enters the stage in Scene 3 of Act III (before “Zdyez on, zdyes on, Yevgeni!”) and right before Onegin comes onstage in Act III, Scene 2. Or ha, maybe this is just “Onegin’s Arrival Theme” since there’s a similar kind of orchestral panic before he arrives in Act I (though of course, not in Scene 1 of Act III since it is Tatyana who enters rather than Onegin who was in the room already, at least in the productions I’ve seen.)

3. Okay, so now Onegin’s here, what does he have to say for himself? We hear a bit of the Onegin aria theme -  “Mechtam i godom nyet vazvrata, nye obnovlyu dushi moyei/Dreams and years cannot return, I cannot renew my soul!” as he (in some versions) falls to Tatyana’s feet, exclaiming “O, szhaltes, szhaltes nado mnoyu!/ Have mercy on me!”  Clearly has some srs regerts. But also perhaps Tchaikovsky foreshadowing what is to come... not only that we shouldn’t expect Tatyana to act with any less honor (or prudence/reason) towards Onegin as he did towards her in Act I, and that indeed she sings “proshlogo nye vorotit/you cannot bring back the past.”  I know I’m grinding a lot out of this particular moment, but... would you expect anything less from me? Or (thinks of Petya) HIM? :)

4. As Tatyana reminds Onegin how he rejected her and begins to question why he is suddenly in love with her now, we get to revisit some of the music from the Letter Scene - at least in the orchestra. Tatyana’s line differs slightly than her original melody in the Letter Scene when she sings “Togda, nye pravda li pustine, vdali ot suyetnoi molvi/There in that backwater, far from vain society” - and just so, as it is far from its dreamy, romantic parallel in her letter - “Y v eto samoye mgnovyenye ne ti li, miloye vidyenye/And in that very moment, wasn’t it you, beloved vision [...who whispered to me words of hope].” I find this throwback incredibly clever and gutwrenching, as I believe it’s clearly a bitter and ironic jab at the hope that Onegin crushed, even honorably as he did, and now the two of them have changed positions. Whose dreamy hopes (which are... questionable at best at the moment) are getting schooled now? Cmon’ Onegin, “learn to control yourself....”

5. Let me take a moment to admit and agree with many analyses/critics (although Tchaikovsky knows what he is doing, convince me otherwise) that Onegin is pretty fragmented and lacks a coherent theme, and certainly has no original “love theme” of his own to offer Tatyana  - after all, Onegin as a character, especially in the book, is pretty hollow, someone who isn’t so much a “self’ as a person who knows how to go through the motions of life... He’s intelligent but not creative, full of potential but lacking any real direction. (Ohhh I am going to cry because that’s so sad but also so relatable, but crying is coming up next so I’ll hold off). The opposite of Lensky’s “poet spirit” that lives life romantically, and is in love with life itself, seeing the infinite everywhere rather than seeing life so pessmistically (with the mask of pragmatism/”maturity”) as Onegin does, a mask that keeps Onegin from truly engaging with life or his own sense of self.

So as Onegin sings, we hear that lack of originality, though I will pull a Valery Gergiev here and say one “cannot be impartial” to Onegin’s music here (*clutches chest - that’s Tchaikovsky, even though I think it’s clear Onegin is not his fav) - Onegin may not be original, but there is no less truth or heartfelt emotion in what comes through. Luckily, Tatyana knows that it’s still not a good choice... he’s still not very substantial, at best, and at worst truly is only infatuated with her because of her reputation. It would mean ruin for her either way so :( (read: Anna Karenina) (here are some sad Onegin pictures just for fun because it’s all been Tatyana mainly but also: sorry this is Tatyana’s big moment so)

6. Time for tears! Do you hear a familiar theme when Tatyana sings “Ya plachu/I’m weeping?” It’s Lensky’s aria theme making a comeback- what!??! And particularly, the same melody as these two phrases, when Lensky sings: “Shto dyen gradushchi mnye gotovit/What does this day hold for me?” and perhaps more salient to this moment: “Pridyosh li, dveya krasoti, slezu prolit nad rannei urmoi/ Will you come, maiden, to shed a tear over my untimely urn?” Ahhh, I see what you did there, Petya.

But wait, Onegin hates crying! This isn’t explicitly in the opera of course, but Onegin in the novel all but tells Tatyana that her tears (as he rejects her) only vex him - another reason marriage would be a torment for them (not a bad reason and look, we always respected his honesty, right?). But now? I think it’s a crucial moment; it shows there has indeed been some development on Onegin’s part and uh oh, he’s actually in love (ironically in a very Lensky - that is, poetic - way)  even if it’s not for the best of reasons.

7. Fun (pain) pact: “Tak blizhko! [happiness was] so close!” is the only time Onegin and Tatyana sing together or are on the same page, so to say. Nice. (*cries*) The only other times people sing completely lined up together like this in this opera, choruses aside, are when:

Larina and Filipyevna sing “Privichka svishe name dana, zamyena shchastiyu ona /Habit is sent to us from above in place of happiness”  in the opening scene

Onegin and Lensky sing “Nye zasmeyatsa l nam, poka ne obagrilasa ruka, ne razoitis li polyubovno? Nyet... /Shouldn’t we burst out laughing, rather than staining our hands with blood, shouldn’t we part as friends? No...”  before the duel

Moments of truth. And mostly pain. :) Again, please chime in if there are others, I’m sure I’ve missed something.

8. Time for Tatyana to refuse! This is where I completely disagree that there is “no new major theme” in the Finale; Tatyana’s “rejection theme” holds its own in my books. Interestingly, it’s in D-flat major, just like the main themes in her Letter Scene (”Puskai pogibnu ya/Let me perish,” and “Kto ti? Moi angel/ Who are you? my [guardian] angel..” aka the descending/Russian 6th theme). Tatyana is just as earnest/decided/resigned* (yes, all three of those adjectives) in her decision in the finale as in the Letter Scene, so maybe that has something to do with it. (I always remember her words in the Letter scene: “Uvi, nye v silakh ya vladyet svoyei dushoi!/Alas, I am unable to subdue my soul!” but just like Onegin learning to be endeared by tears - she has indeed learned to subdue her soul, or perhaps she has simply matured and her priorities have changed. (And of course, who lectured her to subdue her soul in the first place, even though he meant well? Yours truly!)

*resigned might seem an interesting way to describe the Letter Scene, but don’t forget “No, tak i bit! Sudbo moyu otnine ya tebye vruchayu/So be it. Henceforth my fate belongs to you....”  I tend to interpret that as Tatyana actually taking her fate into her own hands and deciding to go all in with her decision, despite the words that seem to make her position passive. In the finale, she is ‘resigned’ in a similarly active manner - this is not a passive resignation. But I still would use the term resigned, if only to draw the parallel between Tatyana and her mother....  “I became resigned and settled down.”  And so she has, even if she has to struggle to push Onegin away from the settled life she has, loving him all the same.

And in comes some of my favorite music of all time - Onegin’s desperate, even malicious pleas and a good dose of mansplaining how Tatyana “can’t” abandon him, quoting back her letter. Extra ouch, because do you remember in Tatyana’s letter when she tells Onegin if he has any pity, “vi nye ostavite menya/you won’t abandon me.” And what does she have to beg him to do over and over until she finally runs offstage? “Ostav menya!/Leave me!” heheheheh *laugh-cries*  everything is fine.

9. And we’ve nearly reached the very end. Almost a year into listening to this particular piece of music and I only recently realized what was going on - yeah, I know. When things get really heated at the end and pain reaches a maximum, Tatyana sings “Gluboko v syerdsta pronikayet, yevo otchayanni priziv no, pil prestupni podaviv/His anguished cries penetrate my heart, but the fire of passion has been extinguished” (well, I’m still not quite sure on the ‘correct’ English translation but it doesn’t sound good for Yevgeni regardless...)

That melody in that last line calls us back to its twin sister at the end of Scene 1 in Act I when Onegin is talking about how bored he was with his uncle, waiting for him to die. So a) I hear this as Tatyana “ending things once and for all” (parallels between the death of Onegin’s uncle, and the death of their relationship), as well as possibly (again I read 10,000% too much into things) b) Tatyana realizing that Onegin’s words to her back in the garden were true - habit [routine] would kill their love; they would become bored (or at least he would). The passion would burn out.

Which brings us back to c) heaven sends us habit in place of happiness [=passion?]- which, OH, RIGHT, OF COURSE has the same rhythm of the aforementioned “boredom” theme and “the fire of passion has been extinguished.” But you all probably already realized that because oF COURSE.. that’s how the opera OPENS... and now how it is CLOSING... AHHHH!!!

I know I’m not original or anything for realizing that parallel, but yeah. I’m pretty happy about it.

Tchaikovsky is absolutely genius. Unbelievable. And paired with Pushkin? I’m not surprised I’ve clearly lost my mind over this masterpiece.

Anyways, this was an extremely long post but I hope you enjoyed it immensely, especially if you read this far!! Please chime in with your own comments! I LOVE THIS PIECE OF MUSIC!

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Chapter 20 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

~|Emily Fox|~

I’ve been in Uncle Bobby’s studio since 7am this morning, rehearsing for my audition this afternoon. I’d woken Mitch up, and he’d gotten a little annoyed, but after his cup of coffee, he joined me in the studio and gave me some notes to work on or praised me for everything I did perfectly. We even jammed a little together as a break from rehearsing. “You ready?” he asks me when we’re packing up to leave for Los Angeles. I nod my head and check my phone again. I’d sent Charlie a couple of messages with the address, asking if he was going to be there. But all of them were left unanswered. “Yeah,” I sigh and hop into the car with him. It takes us only ten minutes to get there, and my nerves just get stronger and stronger. Nothing can distract me from them anymore. I have become my nerves. My body has tensed up since we left the house and I haven’t been able to relax any muscle, despite Uncle Mitch’s attempt to get me to calm down. Good luck on your audition, Hot Mama! Wish I could be there. Sending you all the love xxxx Madi’s message does make me smile. Even though I’d rather have her here, it’s better than not getting any texts at all. “Charlie isn’t answering my texts,” I tell Uncle Mitch when we’re in the green room, waiting for my turn to audition. Fellow students buzz around us, some of them equally as nervous as I am, others just buzzing with excitement. “I’m sure he’ll be here,” Uncle Mitch tries to reassure me, but I can tell from the look on his face, he’s not so certain himself. “The boys always have your back, Muffin. They’ll be here.” “Sacha Carlson?” a voice chimes through the green room. A guy gets up, hugs his chaperone and then follows the guy through the thick double doors. I have always been impartial about doors, but these are looming and the scariest doors I ever did see. Scarier than the ones in IT. “They’re already on C!” I notice, and my stomach churns. “There are probably a lot of people between Carlson and Fox though, Muffin,” says Mitch. And he’s not wrong. We’re there for an hour or so more, awaiting my call to go on. An hour or so filled with dread that my friends aren’t going to be here in time to cheer me on from the sidelines. An hour or so filled with nerves that made me puke about three times, every time just barely making it to the restrooms. “Emily Forrester?” I draw in a breath, nearly fainting on the spot thinking he was calling out my name. The girl looks pale, her hands shaking. At least I’m not the only one this nervous about it. Our eyes meet and I offer her the most encouraging smile I can muster. We’re in this together, babe. You and me both. Emily Forrester comes back into the green room with the widest smile on her face and it’s almost as if the color had poured back into her complexion. She seems healthier now. Wish I could say the same about me. “Emily Fox!” My breath hitches in my throat and it takes a while until my muscles start moving. “Good luck,” the other Emily mouths to me. I can’t even manage a smile. “You’ll do great, Muffin,” Uncle Mitch reassures me. With buckling knees, I walk behind the guy with the headset and clipboard. He offers me a smile too, and leads me towards a stage, handing me a microphone. The black tiles reflect the bright light of the one spotlight in the middle, nearly blinding me. “Hi, Emily Fox,” one of the teacher’s kind voices sound. I can’t see her, but her voice has a somewhat calming effect on me. “Why don’t you tell us what instrument you play and what song you’re going to sing for us, and then you can go straight ahead.” “I-I play the piano, and I’m going to sing a song I’ve written, called Stand Tall.” My voice echoes into the almost-empty venue. “Good luck, Emily.” I walk over to the keyboard and sit down while the lights guy changes the spot onto me. Now I really wish I had Charlie with me, telling me I got this. I could really use those words right now. My fingers hover over the keys, almost forgetting how this song starts. I take a moment to shut my eyes, imagining the boys and Madi here with me. It gives me enough courage to start playing the song. “Don't blink No, I don't want to miss it One thing, and it's back to the beginning Cause everything is rushing in fast Keep going on never look back” I open my eyes again to the bright, blinding light of the spotlight on me. “And it's one, two, three, four times That I'll try for one more night Light a fire in my eyes I'm going out of my mind” Uncle Mitch has taken a seat on the front row, giving me an encouraging smile. “Whatever happens Even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall I'ma stand tall Whatever happens Even when everything's down I'ma stand tall I'ma stand tall” I keep my eyes on him for the next line, wanting to see his reaction. “I gotta keep on dreaming Cause I gotta catch that feeling Whatever happens Even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall I'ma stand tall” I hear the drums before I see Owen appear, the tech guy turning a spot on him. He smiles at me, telling me to continue. And then Jeremy’s bass fills in too, and seconds later, I find him lit up by the artificial light, smiling at me. “Right now I'm loving every minute Hands down Can't let myself forget it, no Cause everything is rushing in fast Keep holding on nevеr look back” I glance down at Mitch, who’s as shocked and surprised as I am. Then the guitar riff surprises me even more. “And it's one, two, three, four times That I'll try for one morе night Light a fire in my eyes” Charlie smiles at me as the tech guy gives him his spotlight too. “I'm going out of my mind,” he sings, and I grab my mic to come out from behind the keyboard. “Whatever happens Even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall I'ma stand tall” Charlie and I then take the second part of the chorus together, our voice blending seamlessly, like they always do.  “Whatever happens Even when everything's down I'ma stand tall I'ma stand tall” I walk closer to Charlie as he keeps his eyes on me whilst singing. Which gives it that extra spark at my favorite line of the song.  “I gotta keep on dreaming Cause I gotta catch that feeling Whatever happens Even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall I'ma stand tall” I then turn and walk up to Jeremy, who meets me in the middle of the stage.  “Like I'm glowing in the dark I keep on going when it's all falling apart Yeah I know it with all my heart” We turn back-to-back, leaning against one another, rocking out like never before.  “Ooh, ooh” “Never look back,” Charlie sings while I take a high note.  I then turn to Owen as he stops drumming and gets up from his stool, singing the bridge chorus. “Whatever happens Even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall I'ma stand tall” Then Jeremy does the same, capturing my attention. “Whatever happens Even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall I'ma stand tall,” he hits that high note flawlessly and it gives me the boost I need for my high note. “Stand tall” “Stand tall,” Owen and Charlie echoes.  The four of us lapse into the chorus again, all of them resume playing their instruments. “Whatever happens Even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall I'ma stand tall Whatever happens Even when everything's down I'ma stand tall I'ma stand tall” I walk up to Charlie again and offer him my microphone, the way we’ve done so many times before.  “I gotta keep on dreaming Cause I gotta catch that feeling Whatever happens Even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall I'ma stand tall”

We finish the song, all four of us panting and rushed with adrenaline. And while the boys stand back, I step forward a little, ready for my feedback. The tech guy aims a spot on the teachers. Five of them in a row. Neither of them with smiles nor any indication they liked what they saw. “Miss Fox…” One of them starts. A man, in his fifties in suit. “This is not a rock concert.” My heart drops to my feet. “It’s an audition for the Music Academy which you’re supposed to take seriously.” I raise the mic to my mouth, wanting to say something, but another teacher cuts me off. It’s the woman that spoke to me before. “As much as I liked the song, Emily, the guidelines clearly say you have to audition on your own. No bands, no duets.” She actually looks remorseful, more so than her grumpy colleague. “I’m sorry, Emily Fox, but we can’t let you in.” It’s at that point my entire world falls apart. Everything I have worked for, everything I dreamed of with Uncle Bobby and Uncle Mitch all falls into the shreds. A fragile piece of glass to shreds, cutting my hands and heart open. I don’t waste another second on the stage and rush off, pushing the microphone into the tech guy’s hands, and shove open the double doors to the green room, then out of the building. “Emily, wait!” Charlie’s voice makes me stop and turn around. All three boys are there with Uncle Mitch running up a little later, my backpack and jacket in hand. “No, Charlie! You had no right to barge into my audition like that! I just needed you to be there on the front row, cheering me on, not ruin my entire future!” The words come out into croaks, my voice betraying me. “Maybe this is a sign you don’t need a fancy school, Emmy!” he shouts back. “Do NOT call me that!” I yell back. My anger is now taking the better of me. Charlie flinches before recomposing himself. “Emily! Listen to me!” his voice grows louder, “You don’t need a fancy school! You’re insanely talented! You have magic in your fingers and your throat! Just because a fancy school doesn’t see that, doesn’t mean you can snuff it out! You have everything to make it big, Emily!” “Yes! I do! It might be your dream to break out with your band, but it’s not mine! Mine was getting into this school and you just went ahead and ruined that for me! I thought we always had each other’s backs?” I direct the last question to all three of them. Jeremy is fidgeting with his flannel, staring down sadly at his feet. Owen just gives me that worrisome look of his that doesn’t comfort me whatsoever now. And Charlie. Charlie has this pained expression on his face that breaks my heart even further and angers me more at the same time. “Our band, Emily,” he says, his voice now lowered. “No,” I shake my head, “It’s not our band because if it would be our band, you wouldn’t have gone in there and made it our show. You would’ve made it mine.” I turn around and walk up to the car, getting in without even lending them a glance. Uncle Mitch gets in a couple moments later, a deep sigh leaving his body. “Don’t say anything,” I warn him, “Just get us home.” Uncle Mitch simply obeys and drives us back to Los Feliz. Neither of us talk. The only thing breaking the silence are my sobs filling up the empty space. And that’s how I’m back to where I was a year ago; crying in front of the tv with buckets and buckets filled with ice. Uncle Mitch tries to comfort me but doesn’t even try to talk to me. He knows it’s no use. He knows it probably won’t help. I had texted Madi, and she asked if she could do anything. I replied with an emoji of spaghetti. She knows I just want her mom’s lasagna. It’s the best comfort food ever, ever. So, that night, when the doorbell rings, I get a little excited. For the first time in hours. Uncle Mitch gets up from the couch to answer the door. “Charlie,” I hear him say. The excitement in me washes away quickly. “I don’t think she’s up for any company right now, buddy.” Fresh tears pool in my eyes when I think about how sad Charlie looked when I was yelling at him. And then even more tears flow down when I’m reminded why we were fighting in the first place. “Can you just tell her that I’m really, really sorry?” I get up from the couch at his words and make my way to Bobby’s studio instead. I can’t listen to his voice so fragile anymore. In Bobby’s studio, I sit down at the piano and play a couple of notes. “I’m so sorry, Uncle Bobby,” I whisper, letting my head hang down. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to make our dream come true. I’m sorry I let you down…” I let my head hang low as more and more tears run down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” A sudden breeze waltzes through the single open window, blowing a piece of paper off the desk in front of the piano and onto the keys. It’s the lyrics to Wake Up in Uncle Bobby’s handwriting. For a moment, I hug the piece of paper to my chest as if that would actually bring Bobby back somehow. “So get up, get out, relight that spark,” I hear Uncle Mitch sing behind me. “You know the rest by heart,” I cry out and sobs take over my entire body again. “I let Uncle Bobby down, Mitch.” I feel his arms wrap around me. “I let everyone down. My parents, Bobby, Charlie and the boys, you…” “You didn’t let me down, Muffin. Whether you got into the Academy or not, I’m still immensely proud of you. You picked yourself back up when your parents kicked you out of their house. And when Bobby died, you didn’t only pick yourself back up, but me too. You helped those boys bring back some umph in their band. You helped Charlie mend things with his parents. You didn’t let anyone down, Muffin, and I’m so proud of you for how far you’ve come.” I wrap my arms around my uncle’s neck, and for a while, we just cry together in Bobby’s studio. “If you need some time, you can stay home from school this week and I’ll take some time off work too. We’ll pick you back up,” he presses a kiss to my forehead before leaving the studio. Some life I have build for myself.

Taglist: @parkeret​ @lukeys-giggle @gingerxarmy @lovesanimals @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @ashleyleblancx @calamitykaty @lolychu @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @siennanoelle01 @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @luckylouiebug @kiss-themoongoodbye @camiladelrio98 @myfriendscallmebeans

Lemme know if you wanna be on the taglist! 

[eintsein]

Warning: 10 min read ahead :)

Coming into freshman year, I was relatively optimistic. However, I also did that thing where I prevent myself from having too strong of an opinion or extreme expectations (whether it’s positive or negative) before actually experiencing something, in order not to settle on a premature judgment. Even so, before starting freshman year, I was excited for a huge change - I was sick of mundane high school life. When I finally started college, man, was it liberating.

On Intellectual Development

I’d been taking more or less the same classes throughout high school. These classes covered the exact same topics - the only difference was the depth of the material. In college, however, I got to study a breadth of topics and subjects - astronomy, anthropology, information science, philosophy - subjects into which I barely dipped my toes, and when I did so, it was only through the books I read in my own time.

Choosing a liberal arts school is one of the best decisions I ever made because it exposes me to so many things I simply did not have access to in the earlier stages of my intellectual development. Like, yeah, I can read philosophy books whenever I want, but who will I talk to when I don’t understand an argument? How can I discipline my thinking, my writing, my approach to this new learning material? I can find any topic fascinating, but I can’t exactly set my mind on any of them because I haven’t had proper academic exposure. Plus, where high school humanities courses were easy and contained little engagement - just lots of material - the humanities courses I took in my freshman year of college got me thinking and reflecting and engaging with the material even when I didn’t intend to.

What I particularly enjoyed was the discussion sections in humanities courses. For those less familiar with the system, each course usually has a weekly discussion where students are split up into smaller classes and get to discuss anything related to the course material that week. I am not a naturally talkative or articulate person by any standard, let alone compared to Americans, so obviously these discussions were very challenging. But aside from helping me practice putting my thoughts into words and to interact verbally with academic material, these discussions did allow me to engage with the material in a way that I could not have alone, in a way that a STEM course probably could not be discussed.

My STEM courses, however, had their own merits. I very much enjoyed the project based, hands-on approach of most of the classes, especially when teamwork is involved. For my final project for a web programming and design course, my team and I got to make a website for an on-campus, student-run grocery store. For my intro CS final project, I got to code an entire game of alien invaders. This was so refreshing compared to the STEM courses I did in high school, where I was basically just learning the theory for 6 months, and then drilling past papers for the next 6 months. Theory in these STEM courses are also more involved and require more thinking, while high school science courses tend to be on the mechanical side.

College is also liberating because whenever I have the urge to understand something more deeply or find an ever-present curiosity sitting in the back of my mind, I can always enroll in a course or attend a lecture, instead of always being redirected to a predetermined course combination that doesn’t allow for intellectual exploration, and settling for an article, a youtube video, or a book instead. It’s an amazing feeling to always have a fountain of knowledge with which I can quench my intellectual thirst.

When it comes to learning things, I still have the same attitude as the wide-eyed freshman when I first came last fall. I kinda wish I had experimented more instead of jumping into my ‘intended major’, though. In my first two semesters here, I took astronomy, anthropology, comparative literature, computer science, economics, information science, mathematics, and philosophy, which is already quite a diverse course combination, but there are some other subjects I’d like to try out and definitely could have if I hadn’t settled for a major upon entering college. But wherever I end up - and I still have a year to decide - I’m sure I’ll choose something interdisciplinary and requires diverse ways of thinking.

On Paths (in Life, School, etc.)

The intellectual and academic rigidity of high school also kind of narrowed my scope for my own future. The courses and careers built into my head were the ones I was exposed to at school, at home, or in mainstream media. However, being exposed to all this new knowledge made me realize how little I’ve experienced - certainly not enough to determine where I’m going in life - and that it’s okay to not be sure of where I want to go.

There’s this perception that you should know where you want to be in the future by the time you turn 17 or 18 or whatever age you graduate high school, maybe even earlier if you take into account the college application period. But honestly, how realistic is that? I mean, it’s great if you discover your ‘passion’ early on in life, but then where’s your room to breathe? How can you explore the other joys life has to offer? How can be so sure that the path you’re on is the right one if you haven’t walked any other or even seen other possible paths? 

College freed me from feeling like I need to be certain of where I was going. It freed me from trying to pursue a predetermined path based solely on my past academic experience, and instead focus on trying new things to build new experiences and knowledge that will evolve into a path that I enjoy every step of the way.

That also applies to choosing a major. I started out ‘wanting’ to do computer science - wanting being a loose term meaning something I thought I should do, based on my background, experience, academic strengths, and personality. But then I noticed myself being very impartial towards pursuing the major and just doing the minimum amount of work needed for the classes. I also took the minimum number of CS classes each semester because I was honestly not looking forward to them - and I didn’t particularly enjoy them when I took them.

It wasn’t the same with my Info Sci classes, for example, where I started early on projects just because they were enjoyable to do, even if they were challenging. I learned how to do certain things when they weren’t required for the class, experienced a good flow when doing the projects, actually came to class because I wanted to, had initiative when it came to group projects, made friends with people in the class who I didn’t know before taking it - I was just more involved in the class. Overall, I was more motivated to learn, and I think that’s the most important thing (maybe that’s just the ravenclaw in me, who knows).

On a smaller scale, you might be good at a certain subject in high school only to find out you’re suddenly incompetent in it and aren’t interested enough to push through it. I was a math person in high school - like I almost didn’t even have to try - but the two math classes I’ve taken so far in college were very challenging for me, and I suppose that’s a good thing because it allowed me to push my limits further and think about whether I enjoy the challenge.

Recently, I read that true happiness comes when you find problems you enjoy solving, and I think that’s a good ideology to help you choose the path you wanna take.

On Things that Spark Joy

This past year, I also found that I was a lot happier than in high school because I got to pursue the things that bring me joy, whether it’s in regard to academics as I’ve described above, extracurriculars, or things in my daily life.

I got to wake up at whatever time I wanted to and had breakfast how I liked - both in terms of food and whether I had my coffee at home or to-go, or example. I could change my physical appearance in ways that make me feel powerful and confident - in terms of clothing and hair and just how I presented myself in general. When I needed to breathe, I could walk around town or go down to the gorges. I could do my work when and where it was most convenient for me (most of the time).

With regard to extracurriculars, there were a lot of opportunities for me to try new things and continue doing the things I already love. I became a graphic designer for a cultural magazine, which allowed me to do one of my favorite things for a purpose towards which I’m happy to be working. My high school didn’t have any publications and had a seasonal need for graphic designers (mainly school events). I tried out for music groups, trained to be a DJ, watched and discussed films I wouldn’t have seen if it weren’t for Cornell Cinema, went to the concerts of bands that never come to Indonesia. I attended social events I was interested in, and skipped those that I didn’t want to go to, attended workshops, listened to guest lectures, etc. I hung out with people I enjoyed being around, instead of those with whom the only thing I had in common was physical location.

One of the things I’m still adjusting to, however, is the different dynamic of college friendships compared to high school friendships in that they’re more spread out in away - like you’d know a whole bunch of people but they don’t mutually know each other, and there isn’t really like a friend group. Maybe that’s just me. But either way, I also realized that my closest friends in high school took at least 3 or 4 years to go from merely a familiar face to people I’d call for four hours straight and send my sporadic thoughts to. So I guess I gotta be patient and have faith that with time, compatible and like-minded individuals will gravitate towards one another.

On Self-Discovery

Starting college also allowed me to be who I am and who I want to be as opposed to who people think I am and who people expect me to be. Whenever I decide to do something, I don’t have this fear of being ‘out of character’ since I haven’t entirely established who I am yet in the context of college. By doing things I've never done before, I learn things about myself that I probably could not have had I stayed in the same environment (i.e. high school).

Among other things, I noticed that if I don’t want to do something, I will deliberately sabotage myself to make it harder for me to achieve. On the other hand, if I want to succeed or do well in something, I’ll take initiative. That might seem obvious, but the thing is, I don’t always consciously know what I want or like so analyzing my own actions helps a lot. Because college exposes me to so many different material, there’s more data and information to work with, in which to recognize patterns.

A lot of the self-discovery that’s happened is personal, as it should be, but one of the things I’m really grateful for is taking that philosophy course the first semester of college. It made me reassess everything I knew and believed and decide on what values and thoughts I should keep.

I guess one thing I’d advise you to do is to experience new things and reflect on the impact of those new experiences. Sometimes it might not feel like you’ve done a ton of things after a whole year. I’ve had moments where I thought about all the things I thought I should have accomplished but didn’t, and I was like, ‘did I just waste an entire year doing nothing?’ But then I look back on the things I did do - took awesome courses, made amazing friends, got a job, learned to live on my own, etc. - and realized I gotta give myself a little more credit.

On Everything

Coming into college was a huge positive change. Something I wish I could tell myself at the beginning of the year is firstly not to fear making mistakes, so you won’t be afraid of trying new things. Keeping an open mind is great, but not entirely helpful if you don’t venture out into unknown territory to provide you with things to think about. Step out of your comfort zone and don’t be afraid to redefine yourself, but in all circumstances, don’t lose track of who you are.

If you’ve read this far, thank you so much! and please don’t hesitate to drop me an ask if you have questions or comments or concerns. Have an awesome day :)

[buzz-london]

Yuga Dharma of Yuga Purusha ((Horses for courses!) (my essay for 'Oxford Centre for Hindu Studies') 

Ramayan and Mahabharata have Vishnu playing the central role of Yug-Purush – man-of-the-hour who decides the fate of the world, formulates history and decides the course of the future.

Yet, Vishnu-avatar in Ramayan is very different to the Vishnu-avatar in the Mahabharata.  Both itihases (histories) record how ‘god-incarnate’ behaves in a totally diametrically opposed manner.  One has to wonder why!

In fact when we examine the 24 avatars of Vishnu, each one seems to be very different!  Their ways of establishing Dharma seem to very widely.  For example, Parashuram, Varah and Narsimha are exceptionally fierce where as Rushabh and Nara-Narayan are exceptionally placid.

Why is God not behaving in a consistent manner?   Why are God’s actions not predictable? Why is God not behaving like GOD?

For the purposes of this essay, we will mainly look at Ramavatar and Krushnavatar, discussing other avatars to understand what is means to be a Yug-Purusha and uphold Yug-Dharma.  

Shri Rama of Ramayan is very ‘human’.  In Valmiki Ramayan, Rama rages, cries, despairs and even blames his father’s lust for the miseries visited upon him.  Rama’s resolve to fight Ravana is unswerving, but his despondence during setbacks in his life are endearingly ‘human’.  His rejection of Sita is shockingly melodramatic and his desperate desire to please-everyone-all-the-time is achingly admirable – though frustratingly impossible!  Rama is admired as the son, brother, leader, friend everyone wants.  Yet, his behavior as a husband, father and king leaves us aghast.  

By contrast, Shri Krushna of Mahabharata is rarely despondent.  His relatives are far more troublesome than those of Rama, and yet he rarely gets upsets or admonishes them for their lack of propriety.  He weaves through the quagmire of complex relationships with hundreds of characters in the epic.  He adheres to rules, bends them, breaks them and makes them up as he goes through life.  His focus on establishing a ‘Dharma-Rajya’ in Arya-vart is unwavering and despite setbacks, he marches forward with this singular aim.  Though incredibly complex, Krushna remains the most enigmatic and interesting of all the Vishnu avatars.      

Establishing Dharma is the key to all avatars of Vishu.  But what we have to ask is, What is dharma?   Whose dharma? Which dharma?

Does the Yuga Purusha determine what the Yuga-Dharma should me? Does the Yuga Dharma determine what the Yuga-Purusha should establish as the law of the land?

Rama was the latter – he followed the Yuga-Dharma to the letter. Krushna was the former – he decided what the Yuga-Dharma was and made sure others helped him establish it!

In the SMB Gita, chapter IV, shloak 7, Shri Krushna states, ‘Yada yada he Dharmasya, glanir-bhavati Bharata, abhyuthanama dharmasy, tadatmanum srujamyahum’.  This can be paraphrased as ‘Oh Arjun, whenever Dharma is impacted, I come to its rescue.’  

Dharma’s principles may be eternal, but its application in the here-and-now is fluid.  Each Yuga has its own version of what is the ideal way to practice dharma.  Dharma, as interpreted by rishis, kings and citizens seems to be different.  If we look superficially, with the change of a Yuga, dharma seems to change. God’s own enforcement of Dharma seems to changes.  These enforcements are sometimes violent, sometimes peaceful, sometimes mysterious.  But each and every time, the result is the same.  Dharma and order are re-established.  This can be succinctly described by the English term, ‘horses for courses’.  God does whatever is required to establish Dharma.

Everytime Yuga-Purusha comes, ALL sections of society are forced to confront their excesses, account for it, repent and re-establish social-order by leading a balanced life in accordance with Dharma. *The intellectuals have to climb down from their ivory towers and engage with the wider community. *The ruling class has to restrain itself from excessive use of its powers and let the citizens lead a fulfilled life.   *The entrepreneurs and businessmen have to rein in their relentless pursuit of profit and realise that anything other than a fair-deal is robbery by any other name.   *The working class have to realise the value of their work and relish ‘work’ rather than see it just as a toil of a mindless automaton.  

No one is above Dharma.  As part of the rituals of coronation of ancient Indian kings, after he receives the sword-of-state and the royal crown, the king proclaims, “A-dandyosmi!” (I am now above all reproach / oversight / punishment).  The Raj-Guru gently taps the crown three times and reminds him, “Dharma dandosi, dharma dandosi, dharma dandosi!” (Dharma can still punish you!)  In English courts, we use a similar maxim, written by Dr Thomas Fuller in 1733, “Be you never so high, the law is above you!”  Even the law makers are not above the law!  Recently, in the British Parliament, the government and the Priminister had to be reminded that they are not above the law – ‘Dharma dandosi’ enacted in 2019!

Only when every section of society benefits and progresses, can Dharma (in its widest sense) be truly established.  God does not work for one side or another.  God has no ‘favourites’.  God favours equilibrium.  Hence, to establish Dharma, is to establish balance.  Dharma is impartial.  God is impartial.  When required, God comes as an axe-yielding ParashuRama and when required, he comes as a peaceful preacher – Horses for Courses.  

No one lives in isolation.  We all live in symbiosis.  When one party tries to rise at the expense of others, crushes the rights of others to benefit itself, they disturb the delicate balance of Dharma.  When that ‘balance’ swings too far to one side, it results in oppression of the ‘powerful’ over the ‘powerless’.  Who is ‘powerful’ verses who is ‘powerless’, changes from one Yuga to another, one place to another.  Everyone has the chance to become ‘powerful’ at one time or another.  Not just China or Russia, even nations as small as Britain and Japan have had the chance to occupy center stage in world history.  What they do with their power determines their legacy.  History will record if they were benevolent or malevolent ;  cruel or kind ; progressive or regressive ; dharmic or adharmic while they ruled.

Just as too much sunshine can wither the crops and too much rain can drown it, even excess of ‘goodness’ can unbalance the universe.  For example, Vishnu comes as Vamana to gently curb the ‘goodness’ of Bali and re-establish the power-balance between good and evil in the universe.  To the casual observer, robbing Bali of his empire and pushing him in the Patala seems like an ‘own-goal’ by God!  Here was an honest Danava, devoted to dharma and dedicated to the welfare of his subjects.  Why remove him from power?  But God wants to make sure everyone has their due and no one is deprived of their fair share.  As stepbrothers, Devas and Danavas are both given fecund kingdoms to enjoy.  Both places are equally good and they both reflect the characteristics of the people who were suppose to occupy them.  But, when Patal tries to dominate Swarga or when Swarga tries to dominate Patal, universe becomes unbalanced.  Through his avatars, God works hard to make sure no one is bullied into submission and everyone has the chance to enjoy their ‘place-in-the-sun’.            

Changes in interpretation, and application, of Dharma are reflected with the symbolic ‘colours’ given to each avatar.  *1 In Sat Yuga, the character of the avatar is described as ‘White’.  In Treta Yuga, the avatar’s character is ascribed the colours Red and Yellow and by end of Dwapar Yuga, the avatar is described as ‘Dark (blue)’.  

The White colour of the avatar symbolically reflects the simple, straight forward ideas and applications of Dharma in Sat / Kruta Yuga.  Matsya, Hansa, Varah etc reflect the straightforward efforts God takes to establish of dharma.  

In Treta Yuga, attributes of Vishnu’s avatars are described by colours Red and Yellow.  At the start of the Treta Yuga, Vishnu has to be aggressive in forcefully applying Yuga Dharma – hence Red.  ParashuRama is the angry version of God’s ‘justice’.   Those who are found wanting, are judged and punished without waiting for lengthy ‘due process’.  However, by the end of Treta Yuga, requirements from the avatar have changed and this is symbolically reflected by the colour ‘Yellow’. The ‘golden Avatar’ of Rama has regal poise.  Rama patiently suffers ‘due process’ to establish Dharma-Rajya at great personal cost.  He waits 14 long, lonely, arduous, years in the forest to sit on the throne and rule as Dharma-Raj.  To the ‘golden avatar’, personal privations were nothing in comparison to ‘peace’ achieved during Rama-Rajya for the entire society.  As a result, till date, Rama-Rajya is synonymous with Dharma-Rajya in South-East Asia.  Hence, from North India to Cambodia, there are several cities with the name ‘Ayodhya’ and countless rulers with the name ‘Rama’.

During the of Rama-avatar, ParashuRama symbolically passes the mantel of Yuga-Purusha to Rama by handing over his bow to Rama.  The Red, angry Avatar of Vishnu, who as a Rishi’s aggrieved son had decimated Kshatriya clans 21 times over, hands over the job of maintaining Dharma to a Golden Kshatriya prince!  It is a dramatic, diametric change.  From Rishi-Putra killing Kshatriyas to forcefully establish dharma, to a Kshtriya killing a Rishi-Putra (Ravan) to reluctantly establish dharma.  From an extrovert, dynamic avatar who imposes his will on the people, to an avatar who is painfully introverted, who tries desperately to establish dharma through consensus.  They both cause a lot of bloodshed, but one relishes the bloodletting, while the other abhors it.  ParashuRama feels that violence is the only way to keep the ruling class in check, while Rama seems to reserve violence as the last option to check unruly rulers (eg Vali and Ravana).

In Dwarpar Yuga, God’s enigmatic application of Dharma has literally become ‘dark’, impenetrable!  By the time of Krushna, cycle of Yuga has marched on. God incarnate has to use multiple approaches to bring peace in society.  Though not exclusively, this does include using a great amount of violence to establish Dharma.  Shri Krushna uses the full range of Sama, Dama, Danda and Bheda to reestablish Yuga Dharma.  By using diplomacy, economic pressure, army and ‘intrigue’, he manipulates the political environment of the era to bring about peace.  Though he never sits on any throne or claims any crown, he is openly acknowledged as the king-maker of the epoch.  

While ParashuRama is an outsider, forcing the rulers to bend to his will, Rama is an insider, coaxing fellow rulers to his will.  Both feel the process changes them.  They start out enthusiastically, but end up bitterly ruing their role in bringing order to the world.  Krushna however works as a catalyst, working tirelessly to ferment change without changing himself.  Even as empires rise and fall around him, Shri Krushna smiles knowingly, always enchanting everyone around him.  God’s singular purpose of coming as an Avatar is to liberate all the souls that come within his / her ambit.  Through wise words and wars, God aims to cut karmic bondage of any and all those who meet them.  

How is the use of violence justified for establishing Dharma by Yuga purusha?  How can a dharma-avatar use something so adharmic as violence to establish dharma?  Is everything fair in love, war and establishment of dharma?

God is compassionate.  When God kills, s/he liberates the souls s/he kills.  God removes the karmic bonds of those who die in his presence.  Thus they are freed from the need to be reborn.  Just as fire reduces everything to ash – burning sandalwood and a thorn bush with equal vigour, dying in God’s presence helps sever the good and bad karmas of the soul.  Unfettered by their karmas, souls that die in the presence of God attain moksha.  This reduces the number of souls who ‘burden’ Mother Earth.  This helps achieve the goal of any avatar.  Even Buddha-Avatar’s goal was to release souls from the samsara and lead them to nirvana.    

Taking his cue from Rama and Krushna, both warriors par-excellence, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi renounced violence and defeated the biggest empire the world has ever seen with ‘non-violence’!  Taking account of ground realities, though he invokes the ancient avatars of Vishnu, he used different tactics to establish order and Yuga-Dharma in Kali Yuga.  Taking inspiration from Vishnu, the sustainer of the universe, Gandhiji helped re-establish dharma, bring back balance, humble and empower the ruler and the ruled alike, and establish a level playing field for both.  Man became a Mahatma, creating a new definition of Yuga-Dharma.  

In each Yuga, the subtle application of dharma changes.  Yuga-Avatar establishes Yuga-Dharma and releases the maximum number of souls it can during its ‘karya-kala’ (time while the Avatar is active on Earth) from their karmic bondage.  Shri Rama and Shri Krushna, along with other avatars of Vishnu, have helped re-balance the universe, bring peace and establish Dharma.  How they did this (abhyuthanama dharmasy) was unique to each of them.

[iwassentbycyberlife]

Good things never last...

Connor x Reader // Sometimes when things feel hopeless, help can come from unexpected sources // slight AU where people still live in Detroit but there’s still “peace” (also disclaimer: I don’t know anything about the US legal system so please don’t sue me if it’s not too accurate)

It hadn’t been easy. You knew from the beginning that things would be different, but you had hope that it could work. Somehow, some way, you were going to make it work. You had tried and tried, put in all the effort you could give, but in the end it couldn’t last, whether you wanted it to or not.

Your friends had warned you that dating an android would be a bad idea, but you had fallen, you were still falling. You were still so in love. But there was no way to solve this problem. Some things were out of your hands, and this was one of them. You sat down on the bed, not wanting to pack your stuff anymore. You laid your head on your hands which were still holding a shirt. New York wasn’t too far, but right now it felt like the other side of the world, and you were supposed to just move there.

“Are you almost done?” You felt like crying, his voice was so sweet, you wouldn’t be able to handle saying goodbye to him without crying. “Are... Are you alright?” you couldn’t resist letting out a sarcastic laugh when he said that. There was so much concern in his voice however, that you immediately started crying. It was too much, it wasn’t fair.

“Why are they doing this... I don’t want to leave you.” He sat down next to you and you leaned your head on his shoulder. “Why...” It was the only question you could ask, the only thing that had been on your mind since you had gotten the news. Since the revolution had ended there had been ‘android rights’ yes, but the respect was nowhere to be seen. You had started dating a few weeks after the revolution, on account of the obliviousness of a certain android of course, but no two months later Captain Fowler had told you to break up with him. You had been aghast, and asked what motivation was behind this, arguing that seeing a human and android together would only help acceptance. He wouldn’t even listen to a sound you made.

“The public needs to be able to rely on their officers to be impartial in cases, the higher ups decided this would impact your objectivity, and so we had to try and solve this in a civil matter. I hope this will not be an issue.” When you looked into his eyes you knew that he didn’t mean that in a polite way, and he would do whatever it took just to get his bosses off his back. Sure he was a wonderful Captain, pushing everyone to do their best, yet when it came to his bosses he for some reason was way less supportive of his underlings. But to ask this from someone was a scenario you never even imagined could become reality. Trying to play his game you had reluctantly agreed, and told Connor to keep it under wraps, you even staged a break up which you found more amusing than you’d care to admit. But it seemed Fowler kept closer tabs on you than you’d thought, which you were made aware of not even a week later.

“In my office. Now.” His tone was indication enough to tell you exactly what was up. The consequences however, were worse then you could’ve imagined. He started off with an angry rant of how you had always been stubborn and had a problem with authority. That last point made you laugh now. You had been quite a good cop, and remembering his face, he knew you knew that he didn’t mean it.

“You’re being transferred.” Your heart stopped as silence filled the air, this wasn’t a good kind of transferal. “You will be sent to the 99th precinct in New York. Connor will stay here and if you two decide to transfer together, know that his application will be rejected.” You knew there was no point in arguing and left the office immediately. Hank had ran after you asking ‘what the hell is up’ but you couldn’t say anything, the lump in your throat growing as you held back tears.

“Shhh, it’ll be alright.” Connor said, bringing you back to the room of your small but comfortable house, again your throat seemed to close up. The scenes had been playing through your head non-stop, and every time you imagined a scenario where you won the argument that hadn’t even been an argument you wondered. If only you didn’t love your job so much, if only you hadn’t fallen for Connor, if only he hadn’t been an android, if only you hadn’t been human. What would’ve happened then.

“I’ll miss you.” You said, kissing him softly. He wiped away some of the tears on your face, smiling gently. As he took the shirt from your hands and put it in the box, he whispered,

“I love you.”  Holding his hand you squeezed it, and you couldn’t help the smile even as your tears began flowing again.

“I love you too.” For a few minutes you just sat there and just enjoyed each other’s company. The last day of calm before the storm. Then the doorbell rang.

“Guys let me in! I can help!” A familiar sounding voice yelled as you saw Hank jumping in front of a window. You were surprised to see him, not having spoken to him much since the day he had ran after you. Connor smiled, and tugged your hand to indicate you walk with him. A giggle left your mouth seeing the Lieutenant so exited, feeling slightly guilty for dismissing him the other day.

“Come in Lieutenant.” Connor said, Hank raising an eyebrow.

“Nice to see you too. I’m doing great if you were wondering.” He sighed and entered the house, not bothering to wipe his shoes and dropping a file on your dinner table. “Now I am about to save both of y’all’s asses and I know you’ll be too exited to thank me later so I thought I’d give you the opportunity to do it now.” He gestured for you to speak.

A hesitant “Thank you,” came from you, looking over from Hank to Connor in confusion. Connor seemed rather happy about this. When he saw your confused look he finally explained.

“I asked the Lieutenant to help me figure out if there was any other solution. Since he has access to more files than I do.” Hank rolled his eyes.

“This dude had me searching through thousands of paper files which he could’ve read in ten minutes!” Leaning forward Hank whispered, “He says it’s because he wasn’t allowed to access them, but I think it’s because he wanted to spend more time with you.” You bit your lip, finding it to be quite endearing.

“What did you find Lieutenant.” Connor inquired. Hank sighed again, if you didn’t know better you’d think he hated the idea of helping you out, but through everything other than his sighing it was obvious he was glad he did help.

“Now now, no need to hurry, dramatic timing is important in these things.” Hank grinned, seeing your glare however, he quickly started talking. “Well, at first I didn’t know what to look for, but when I came across a file of a case where two officers sued their boss when they weren’t allowed to date, claiming it wasn’t stated in their contract, and they won the case.” He smirked, “Then I realized I should read the contract, and I finally read through the small letters.” You rolled your eyes in an amused manner.

“You do realise normal people actually read their contract before signing it right?” Connor suddenly got a worried look on his face,

“Lieutenant did you not read your contract? That is quite imprudent. If you wish I could help you with that.” Hank laughed,

“Don’t worry kids, I got this. Anyways, so sadly enough there was a part in there where if relationships come in the way of service, they can legally take steps to make sure that that isn’t the case anymore. However!” Hank now started grinning, “This only applies to people with a criminal record, suspects in any open cases, or anyone who is involved in a current open case.” He was silent for a few seconds before letting out another sigh. “Hello, earth to dimwits, didn’t you hear me? You can sue them.”

“We can?” You said in a surprised tone, not being able to believe what he just said. You could fight this after all. Case law was in their favor. When you finally gave a reaction, Hank face palmed.

“Why am I doomed to work with you dimwits.” He sighed, but you didn’t respond to his self pitying, deciding to hug him instead.

“Thank you, you don’t know how much this means.” Slowly Hank gave in, pulling Connor in for the hug as well.

“I couldn’t stand seeing you two be anything other than happy. And from what I’ve seen you two make each other the happiest I’ve ever seen you.” Letting go Hank smiled,

“Now how about we watch a movie to cheer up the mood a little? I think Shrek would be perfect for the occasion.” You hit him in the shoulder, pointing a warning finger at him.

“Don’t you dare do that to my man. I will murder you.” Hank laughed as Connor’s LED turned yellow. He was about to speak when you now pointed your finger at him. “No. No Shrek talk while in my house, do you both understand?” The two nodded, Connor looking like a beat puppy, and Hank still grinning. You then firmly stated, “It’s Bee Movie time.”

[fae-fucker]

Zenith: Chapter 13-14

Chapter 13

We’re in yet another flashback/past timeline, 4 years ago from present time and in Dex’s point of view. 

He’s 17, which means he’s 21 in the present, so jot that down. 

Anywhoo, he’s just recently become a Guardian and he’s on his first bounty hunt on some planed called Uulveca, where we all know he found Andi. Apparently, completed bounties mean that he gets to add another star constellation tattoo to his body, which is apparently a status symbol among Guardians ...

That’s inconvenient. What if somebody doesn’t want tattoos? And why constellations (aside from them being appropriately cheesy and deep for Shinsay)? What decides which constellation goes where? Or do you just get to pick randomly? What’s stopping someone from just adding a bunch at random? Will they forcefully remove them? What if they don’t want constellations but something else?

Dex is here to prove himself and catch some dirty dirty criminals. He’s hunting some ... creature, that’s been suspected of doing shady business, but runs into Andi instead as she tries to steal his money.

They have what I can only describe as the most cliché-filled and boring first meeting, complete with rolling around in the mud all sexily while exchanging threatening quips. Whatever you can imagine them saying is probably close enough, so I won’t even show you any of it.

Well, have this, I spose:

Her wrists were wrapped in thick cloth and tied with leather strips. Dark stains, possibly blood, stained the material.

She was too old to be a street rat, and too filthy to be working for a pleasure palace. The palace owners on Uulveca liked to keep their workers clean and enticing.

Dark stains stained the material, huh?

And why do they call it “pleasure palace?” What’s wrong with “brothel?” Too R-rated for you there, Shinsay? I get wanting to come up with your own terms for things but you’re reinventing the wheel here.

Andi reveals that she knows about the guy Dex is hunting, but in return for the information she wants a week’s worth of meals and half of Dex’s money. 

He agrees and says that he’ll kill her if he finds out she’s been lying.

“That’s the funny thing.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m already dead.”

In case you didn’t believe me when I said that this while exchange is just a billion clichés slapped together.

Chapter 14

We’re in Androma’s POV, back in the present, and it’s been a day since last time. Andi is annoyed with Dex, and tbh I can’t blame her. He’s apparently been following her around just to annoy her, and this is what he says after checking out Andi’s ... electronic calendar? Which is full of super hot models? 

Fuck, I was going to post the quote here but now I’m just confused by that entire concept.

“So this is what you like, Androma?” he’d asked, waggling his dark brows suggestively. “I guess I understand why you left me.”

WAGGLING HIS DARK BROWS SUGGESTIVELY

You mean like this?

Remember, he’s supposed to be sexy.

Dex wanted to talk at some point, but Andi’s HEART JUST CAN’T HANDLE IT. 

She did try to murder him, but I guess she still loves him and just can’t admit it to herself. 

Andi is planning their approach, I guess, by looking over the planets in the Olen System, where Xen Ptera is.

The Junkyard was the perfect place for the Marauder to disappear.

Well, you’re not wrong.

Gilly was preoccupied with eating a chunk of bread from dinner. If she had the chance, Andi thought, Gilly would eat all our food stores. Andi often wondered if her stomach was a bottomless pit. The thirteen-year-old was growing fast and had an appetite to match her growth spurt.

Thanks for that info, Shinsay. It’s absolutely vital to my understanding of Gilly as a character and the impact of this personality trait on the overall plot.

The ship’s system, Memory, beeped overhead.

WE KNOW WHAT ITS NAME IS. JUST SAY ‘MEMORY’ AND WE’LL GET IT.

It’s like Shinsay believes that the reader is so fucking braindead that they have to remind them where they are every five pages. Then again, you’d have to be to enjoy this book.

[The general had] already rejected several plans, which seemed to defeat the purpose of hiring Andi and her crew to do a job that he lacked the experience to carry out himself.

Andi you dumb bitch.

1. He doesn’t lack experience, he’s a general. You dipshits were chosen to do this not because you were “experienced” (which you very evidently are not), but because you were pirates and supposedly “impartial.”

2. Again, he’s a general. I’m pretty sure he’s rejecting your plans because they’re idiotic, because you’re a bunch of kids playing with guns who don’t know shit about anything, not because he’s just too inexperienced to know better.

3. Though I am going to blame Cortas here, also. The only reason he picked Andi was because she supposedly doesn’t have any affiliation with neither his side nor the side of his enemy. Which means there’s a billion other, more experienced mercenaries out there who could’ve done the same job had he just given them the proper instructions.

4. And why didn’t Cortas give them instructions? Why are they making up plans now instead of right away? None of this makes any damn sense.

5. If he hates Andi so much, and if she killed his daughter, why the fuck is he trusting her to save his son? If he thinks that Andi is an asshole and he was the one who had sentenced her to death, why does he think that she won’t just grab Valen herself and demand a ransom? Or does he think Dex will keep her in check? Is that really a gamble he’d want to make with his son’s life on the table?

6. Why didn’t he just send a few of his own men disguised as a pirate ship? There won’t be any difference once Valen is safe anyway, Xen Ptera will figure out they got into their territory once Valen is back to his father’s side.

Anywho, Dex fucks off and Andi asks why Lira hasn’t been able to keep him occupied like she’d promised to. 

“Dextro is a man with many talents, the most obnoxious of which is that he knows this ship inside and out.”

That’s a talent now, huh? 

I guess Shinsay follow the footsteps of their kween SJM, which means that any basic thing a man does is actually amazing and should be respected as such.

They joke about locking Alfie and Dex away in the “waste bay.”

This was how it should be, just her and the girls making plans to strike it big. Without a self-righteous, Krev-worshipping man on board.

Yeah. Girl power. 

I’m cackling.

This book is peak white feminism.

The Marauder was currently hidden within the large husk of a fallen warship. If anyone happened to come through this area, their ship would easily be mistaken as a piece of the larger one. That had been Lira’s bright idea, and the exterior damage the Marauder had recently sustained was helpful camouflage.

And I guess the fact that y’all are visible through its walls don’t make no difference?

Or is it opaque now that it’s convenient?

And why does this imply that they could only be found visually? How small is this Junkyard that they think people will be able to see them from space. We already know they have scanning and tracking technology, so whether or not they’re visible shouldn’t even matter.

Anywhoo, they go over their vague-ass plan and it’s really boring. Lira isn’t pleased that she won’t get to join Andi and Dex on the actual rescue mission, and Andi is forced to admit that she and Dex work great together.

Because of course.

Andi says that all they need now is a map of the prison, because I guess the prison moon isn’t guarded and has literally zero security measures, since they don’t even mention getting past any of that crap.

Maybe that’s a later stage of the plan, we’ll see.

“I know I’m not the most experienced at this stuff,” Gilly said from across the table as she polished her golden gun, “but it all seems a little too easy. How do you know we can even trust this so-called informant Dex has?”

Gilly? Saying good shit, for once? Unbelievable.

Also WE KNOW HER GUN IS GOLDEN.

They establish that they can’t trust any bitch and luckily, Andi has a backup plan! 

What is the backup plan? 

I have no clue. The chapter ends. 

Thrilling!

[regularpioneer]

I remember when I was 15 and "feminism", like consumerist feminism I guess, came on the scene for me. Tumblr exposed me to this world of women's empowerment and people like Taylor Swift or whatever, who I loved at the time, were jumping on the band wagon and it was cool as shit to be feminist.

Yes, I still use that title and it obviously has changed over time for me and become more important to me in terms of an active role in helping others, especially now that there are things that I can do since I am no longer a Jehovahs Witness.

As someone who grew up in that environment though, just being exposed to that idea at the time and the seed planted in my head of even just putting women on an equal level was something so fucking mind-blowing. Here I am at like, 15 or 16 hoping this will catch on and maybe one day I will be able to read from the platform for the watchtower, or even carry a microphone *dreamy sigh*

Sadly, The bible takes no prisoners when it comes to women though, and neither does the watchtower.

That was when I guess my "rebellious" stage started, I suppose (which was actually just the thick of my depression, but you know...tomato, tomahto). The idea that women could be equal to men...hoooo buddy...I was SOLD. I couldn't fucking shut up about this shit. But people couldn't STAND when I talked about it, I guess it was way too radical for them LMAO I mean if you can imagine that. I became very embarrassed and felt shameful for ever talking about it even though I tried so hard to identify aspects of feminism with the organization to make myself feel better maybe. I tried to reason that Jehovah viewed women equal to men and that maybe it was just the organization that hadn't caught up yet and ALL KINDS of excuses to try to imagine them at that level until finally, shortly before I left, I had had enough of making excuses for watchtower and came to terms with the way they have been mistreating women and realized how barbaric it actually is. They have no compassion. The bible is old fashioned in its view of women (and literally anyone who isn't a straight white christian male, but that's another story) and its been said so many times.

I think its sad that young girls are not allowed to feel this way or get excited about something they really believe in and identify with because it makes them feel empowered, or at the very least slightly good about themselves for once. Or even just to talk about it without feeling shame. Yes, at the time I really had no idea what I was talking about, but everyone starts shaping their mind from somewhere and coming from a religion like this, that's really saying something. People should be allowed to express what they're passionate about. People even went as far to say that feminism was apostate. Apostate! Imagine that. Say what you want about your political views or the title that you decide to describe yourself as, but really at the end of the day I was talking about equality for women and I was told those ideas were apostate. For an organization who claims to love everyone and says that "God is impartial" they're really doing a great job of it. Thumbs up, watchtower...really.

I could do a million posts on it to be honest, and talking about watchtowers warped application of scripture to keep women in line when it comes to this as well, but I'll leave it here for now just sharing a little bit of my story.

[ekebolou]

#20! Tenor Group

Hahahahaaaaaaa I accidentally kinda went off on this one.  I have another idea for a shorter one, but who knows if I’ll get to writing it down.  Anyway, I spent way too long on this hope you like it :B

For once, all six of them were together, walking down a far too chilly hallway on a floor higher up than their own floor in the Tenor Building.  Because of the separate elevators for different stretches for floors, they had assumed the elevators for the stretch of floors above them simply didn’t connect to their floor (or, in Bosh’s opinion, they didn’t exist).  The suit who had come to get them, however, had opened a panel and inserted a key and suddenly they were going up.  

It was hard to avoid the conclusion that they were in trouble.

“You shouldn’t have gone in on that bank robbery,” Bosh hissed at Seth’s back.  This wasn’t smart, since the vast majority of her road rash received during said bank robbery was on the backs of her arms, making her somewhat sensitive to changes in the air behind her.  Also, it was unwise generally, because in her extremely short words on the matter yesterday, she had been ‘having trouble regulating heat.’  

Decon, in his head, had likened it to speaking near a guttering candle – every breath moved the flame.  Except it wasn’t very apt, because instead of going out, the flame reared up and swallowed your face.

At this moment, however, she chose not to respond.

“We aren’t supposed to have anything to do with crime-fighting, or whatever the fu–”

“Bosh,” Decon said.

“Fuck off with that propriety shit, Decon, you two just blew our whole future here—”

Fir pushing past him to take the lead stopped his talk – or maybe it was the slightly obnoxious smell of the black licorice from the bag cradled in his arm.  “He’s not correcting your potty mouth, he’s trying to make sure she doesn’t fry you before we get to the boardroom.”

“You assholes haven’t ruined my chances,” Julie said.  “Or you better not have, because if you have…”

“Julie, you weren’t even there,” Decon said gently.  “There’s no way you’ll be held responsible.”

Looking no less sour, Julie pressed her lips together and looked away.  The others were thinking of upgrading their estimation of Decon’s abilities to include disagreeing with Julie without the situation escalating.  

“Yeah,” Firmament offered, walking backward in front of the group and speak around the strand of the licorice wheel he was unpeeling, “the ol’ man nee’s you to make ‘im nukes or whatever anyway.  ’S just us.”

“The fuckup trifecta!”  Bosh cried.

“Wes was there,” Decon said.

“Wes didn’t fuck up.  He doesn’t have any powers, he can just go back to a normie or whatever.”

Everyone (except Julie, who disdainfully looked the opposite direction) looked at Wes.  Wes shrugged.

“It’s not fucking up to help people,” Fir drawled.  “Anyway, nobody used their powers,” his eyes slid over to Seth, “proveably, anyway.”

Decon saw the candle flicker vividly in his mind.  Not for the first time, he had reason to marvel at the human tendency to just stop and watch, say, an explosion, rather than running for their lives.  Otherwise he was mentally joining Wes in a contemplation of what, in fact, would happen to Wes should he lose the sponsorship of the group.  At this point, going back into the care of Dr. Hardwick, however vital she was to him, was not promising.  Unlike Firmament, he had disposed of all of his scrubs.

“It is when there’s a fucking law, or congressional act… thingie, or amendment, or whatever to keep you from doing it!  Or else what was our fearless leader’s big talk about ‘not raising concerns’ or ‘keeping a low profile’ or whatever that nonsense–”

“Bosh,” Fir said, “she is going to set you on fire.”

Because Bosh could check on the reality of that statement, and he did, he stopped talking.  

“How is there this long of a fucking hallways in this building,” Firmament said, turning slowly as he walked.  “Who actually has big, dark, secret boardrooms at the tops of towers?  I feel like we’re going to fight a wizard, not get a scolding from our boss,”

“A scolding would be lucky,” Seth said.

Everybody stopped talking.  

It was a long and quiet walk.

*

There was an anteroom to the board room that made it feel like they were being decontaminated before entering a delicate environment.  All glass walls but for the one with the door, which helped the light fight against the abyssal darkness of the polished black walls and floors.  The normal stream of inane music which occupied Bosh’s thoughts had given way to the ominous sound of Darth Vadar breathing, though amazingly he hadn’t mentioned it to anybody.

A secretary got up to greet them without saying a word.  He took out his phone and silently indicated turning of the volume, prompting them all to check, and by way of suggestion making all of them subconsciously concerned they were breathing too loud.  Julie’s sneakers made a noise on the floor, and she actually looked mortified, rather than as if it was somehow their faults for hearing it.  Seth’s grim silence had evolved into the rocky, thousand-yard-stare of a political veteran about to not just bite the hand that feeds, but potentially tear it off at the wrist.  

Firmament found Seth inspiring.  Decon was putting together a list of contacts and organizations he knew of to help everyone get resettled after they were fired, particularly Wes.  Wes was trying to remember the supposed difference between “Ice Ice Baby” and “Under Pressure”.  

The secretary, using signals only perceivable to himself, waited until the proper moment to slide open the completely silent black glass door.  Firmament barely managed to stop himself from asking who the hell would have a completely opaque black glass door.  He was allowed to take his licorice in, so he thought it best not to push it.

Now there was a lot of light, since the boardroom seemed to be in a corner of the building.  They had a magnificent view of the city, right down to the water, fog, and bridges.  The only pieces of furniture in the room were a hideously large black conference table with equally large black chairs, and a tiny rolling service with an airpot of coffee and a pitcher of water on it at some arbitrarily declared but somehow aesthetic distance from said table.  

Mr. Tenor was on the phone.

Rather, a voice was coming out of the weird plastic star on the conference table with a phone-like quality, as Mr. Tenor sat at the end of the table, steepling his fingers and listening.  He motioned for them to sit.

Seth stalked stiff-legged to his right hand, while the rest of them trailed after, reluctantly admitting to themselves that this wasn’t a moment that would allow them to sit at the back of the class.  On his right were Seth, Bosh, and Decon; on his left, Fir, Wes, and Julie.

The voice on the phone was saying, “We’re old friends, we go back a long ways, and I just want the situation to be clear between us.”

“Yes,” Mr. Tenor said.

“You know I wouldn’t be doing this if I weren’t facing just the utmost pressure, just the greatest possible… it’s really tough, you know?”

“Yes,” Mr. Tenor said.

“And, you know, I use my influence wisely on your behalf.  You wouldn’t appreciate me just throwing it all away to fight for a dead cause.”

“Yes,” Mr. Tenor said.

There was a pause.  The sound of various rustlings, a hesitant breath taken that turned into a politely quieted cough.  The pause dragged.  

“So… so you see what I’m saying, don’t you?” the voice on the phone asked.

“Of course, Senator,” Mr. Tenor said.

Even Seth got a little pale at that one.  

“So… I mean, I have to take this course of action.  My hands… I’m really… my hands are really tied.”

“Of course they are,” Mr. Tenor said.

There was another pause.

“So…?” the voice on the phone said.

“So, let us be absolutely clear,” Mr. Tenor said.  “The next thing you plan to do is to make a speech to Congress decrying the actions of a group of young people under my care.  You anticipate their possession of special abilities will somehow mitigate the damaging effects of a United States Senator taking a group of teenagers who risked their lives to save others to task on a national stage.  You also expect that this will mitigate the effects of the federal government bringing its full power to bear in prosecuting children…”

“Not the full power – and not the Feds, not really…”

“No, Senator, it will be the federal government.  It was the federal government who put this law into effect regarding their conduct, and I will want no less than the full power and discretion of the federal government put into effect on their behalf.  If you think for a moment, Senator, I will allow this to stay on a state level, where any number of factors will interfere in the absolute impartiality of judgement, you are much mistaken.  You see, too many people know me in this state, Senator.  You are not the only one, Senator.  And there are only more people the further down the hierarchy we go.  I could not allow the judgement of these young people to rest in the hands of those compromised by familiarity, for the sake of the comfort of a small and personal stage.  Oh, no, Senator, I will not.  The only direction this goes, is up.”

Seth was decidedly pale.  Even Firmament had a disarming seriousness to his gaze.  It was good nobody knew what Wes was thinking.

The voice on the phone had not expected Mr. Tenor to pause.  “…I… this is really unprecedented, Mr. Tenor, I don’t see what you expect…”

“It will be good to set the precedent, Senator,” Mr. Tenor said.  “I am always pleased to help.”

“I… this is all… I meant, intentions are all well and good, Mr. Tenor, but I’m not sure the Feds will be interested in pursuing…”

“I can assure you that they will be,” Mr. Tenor said.

Another pause happened.  Decon caught Julie’s eye and held it, taking long, slow, breaths, which she soon began to imitate.  Bosh’s knuckles were white on the table edge, so in accord was everyone except Mr. Tenor; his empathy, as usual, found Mr. Tenor like a clouded sea, the waves of which pushed him away, whereas the others he felt like still, clear water.  The contrast was making him seasick.

“Look, this really doesn’t have to be this big of an issue,” the voice said, more combative than it had been.  

“You and your colleagues made it this big an issue when you put the Acts into effect, Senator.  It was a nice way to do something about regulating the actions of Islanders after the fact, and in a lull in which you would not be forced to face the consequences of your actions – but now, here we are.  And if you are prepared to argue that a seventeen year old girl who was shot and nearly buried under rubble deserved to take no actions in her defense despite her ample ability to defend herself, I am prepared to make sure those arguments are heard by everyone who have been living under the Acts that make it so.”

“That’s not even the question,” the voice said, “that’s not even the direction we’re going to take this…”

“Oh, but it is.  Because it cannot help but be relevant to the question of why that building came down on her in the first place when she had with her another young man perfectly capable of preventing it, who legally could not.”

“You use ‘young man’ a little freely, don’t you?  That ‘young man’ should be safely locked up,” the voice spat, “there is no evidence that the building coming down isn’t his fault in the first place, and it’s not like he doesn’t have a history…”

“There will be evidence that it is not, Senator,” Mr. Tenor said.  “As should be expected, I have people gathering the facts of the matter as soon as they are available.  I have it on good word from my friends in the bomb squad that there is no evidence implicating Firmament.”

“Regardless,” the voice said, “there was no reason for them to be there in the first place…”

“At one of my banks?  Where they have some of their savings from my program invested?”

There was another pause.  Now, Seth just looked slightly guilty.

“People died, Mr. Tenor,” the voice said.  “We can’t ignore that people died…”

Seth paled again.  Firmament sat up in his chair such that Mr. Tenor’s gaze actually flicked to him, acknowledging his agitation.

“Criminals died, Senator, in the commission of a crime.  Shot by their own weapons in the confusion.  And people lived, Senator, because of my team.”

“So you admit it, then, Tenor?  This is a team – this is your way of setting up a new wave of violent vigilante justice teams, using children–”

“They are my team,” Mr. Tenor said, his voice dropping, “because they are my children.  I have taken responsibility for them.  Both their parents and the various entities with guardianship have been assured of no less from me than to treat them as my own.  We are working together to do something important, something good – doing something, rather than the nothing the rest of the nation has done by hiding under the covers and pretending Islanders don’t exist, denying them both acknowledgement and aid because you are afraid – acting as if you could legislate away their abilities by forbidding them to use them, on pain of prosecution.  It is unfair, Senator, and it is inhumane, and I won’t allow it to happen to my children, and I will gladly stand before the nation and insist it should never happen to anyone.”

The silence stretched, not even a rustling on the other side, just the quiet buzz of the phone still operating.  

“This was a courtesy call,” the voice said sharply.  “I shouldn’t have even informed you.  I’ve done this a favor for all that you’ve done for me in the past…”

“Thank you,” Mr. Tenor said.

There was another pause.  A sigh.  “I… so we’re good then?”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Mr. Tenor said.  Looking up at the team arrayed around him.

“Are you sure there’s no way… are you sure this is the course of action…”

“Absolutely.”

Another pause followed.  It was like they could hear the sweat on the Senator’s brow.  “I’m sorry you feel that way about it, Mr. Tenor, but maybe it you gave it some thought—”

“I’ll see you in Washington, Pat.”

Mr. Tenor pressed the button to end the call, then leaned back in his chair again.  Everyone had nothing better to do for a few moments than to look at one another.

“Seth,” Mr. Tenor said, gently.  “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Seth said, when she was able to make her mouth not quite so dry.  “I’m… better.  Recovering very well.”

“I just want to make sure Susan’s come up and talked to you?”

“Yes,” Seth glanced nervously at the others, a blush rising, “I… I mean… Decon mentioned she visited.  I mean to get down there, and… I definitely will take advantage of that counseling…”

She glanced at Decon, who with his usual pleasant forbearance gave no sign of what she had said, loudly, about his suggestions she take Susan up on her offer.

“Good, and thank you Decon,” he said, smiling.  “Getting shot would have an effect on anyone, it’s really just a good idea to check in.”  He glanced at Bosh.  “It wouldn’t be too bad an idea for you, either, you know.”

“I wasn’t there,” Bosh said.

“I just mean in terms of sharing professional insights – you might just have things to learn from one another.  It would be a shame not to take advantage of some of the resources you have here for exploring your own abilities.”

This wasn’t the first time Bosh had been told to do his homework, but it was perhaps the only time he hadn’t given a smart-assed response.  

“And Decon,” Mr. Tenor smiled, “I just want to thank you for taking such an initiative in looking after your teammates.”

Decon nodded, with a little smile.  Maybe he was referring to taking the sometimes literal heat for pushing Seth to go see the counselor.  Maybe he meant illegally using his abilities to dig Seth out of the rubble at the bank.  Decon had a feeling that there was a reason he’d been thanked twice.

“Firmament, I assume you’re feeling well,” Mr. Tenor said, gesturing at the bag of licorice wheels.  Fir offered him one, which he declined with a smile.

“Good,” Mr. Tenor said.  “It’s good to see everyone’s recovering.”

“Everyone who needs recovering,” Julie hissed.  This signal return to form was like everyone getting to let out a long-held breath.

“I just wanted to check in,” Mr. Tenor said.  “I’ve been lax.  We should be having these slightly more often.  It’s just been a little busy of late – and I know you all are busy.  I wouldn’t want to stick my nose in.”

A bolt of unease shot through the four members of the fuckup trifecta.  So, Mr. Tenor knew (or suspected) what they were up to…

“Julie, at some later point, I want to talk to you a little bit about expanding your research.  I would like to see you more involved with the rest of your team – strictly within the bounds of what we have discussed with your lab of course.  Perhaps just a more active, daily check in kind of research.  Comings and goings.  Environment changes, that sort of thing.  Does that make sense?”

“We can discuss it,” Julie said, folding her arms and frowning.

Mr. Tenor smiled.  “I can use the money at that bank to help fund this change in direction.  I had only recently decided to open accounts for you there.  Surely you must have seen notes I sent to that effect, which explains why you went down there in the first place.”

They all looked shame-facedly down at the table.  Fir stuffed a licorice wheel in his mouth instead of saying, ‘No, Mr. Tenor, of course it wasn’t the news coverage of the robbery!  They certainly didn’t run out half-cocked and unthinking to try to test themselves in a dangerous situation!  It was a note.  About their savings.’

Julie sniffed disdainfully.  “Research.  Sure.”

Mr. Tenor smiled at her.  “Well, glad to see everyone’s doing so well.  We’ll have another chat sometime soon.”

So dismissed, they all got up, shuffling at various speeds towards the door.  

“Wesley,” Mr. Tenor called, as they exited.

Wes jogged back to the table.

“Wesley,” Mr. Tenor said, “At the bank...”

“Oh,” Wes said, once he understood Mr. Tenor’s hesitation, “Don’t worry.  No fingerprints.”

Mr. Tenor nodded, and Wes left with the others, humming softly.

[batterymonster2021]

How the mysterious dark net is going mainstream | Jamie Bartlett

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/how-the-mysterious-dark-net-is-going-mainstream-jamie-bartlett-4/

How the mysterious dark net is going mainstream | Jamie Bartlett

If you wish to purchase excessive-quality, low-fee cocaine, there quite is only one place to move, and that’s the darkish web anonymous markets. Now, you are not able to get to those websites with a average browser — Chrome or Firefox — on account that they’re on this hidden a part of the web, referred to as Tor hidden offerings, where URLs are a string of meaningless numbers and letters that result in .Onion, and which you entry with a particular browser known as the Tor browser. Now, the Tor browser was originally a U.S. Naval intelligence mission. It then grew to become open source, and it permits anybody to browse the online with out gifting away their location.And it does this by means of encrypting your IP address after which routing it through a couple of different desktops around the world that use the same program. You need to use it on the common internet, however additionally it is your key to the dark internet. And considering of this fiendishly clever encryption approach, the 20 or 30 — we have no idea precisely — thousand websites that operate there are extremely complex to close down. It’s a censorship-free world visited with the aid of nameless users. Little wonder, then, that it is a average position to go for anybody with whatever to cover, and that whatever, of direction, don’t need to be unlawful. On the dark web, you’re going to to find whistle-blower web sites, the new Yorker.You are going to to find political activism blogs. You will in finding libraries of pirated books. However you’ll also in finding the medications markets, illegal pornography, industrial hacking services, and rather more besides. Now, the dark web is one of the most exciting, exciting areas anyplace on the web. And the intent is, considering that even though innovation, of direction, takes position in giant companies, takes position in world-classification universities, it also takes position in the fringes, due to the fact that these on the fringes — the pariahs, the outcasts — they’re by and large essentially the most ingenious, because they need to be. In this a part of the web, you will no longer discover a single lolcat, a single pop-up advert wherever. And that’s one of the crucial explanations why I believe a lot of you right here will probably be on the dark internet quite soon.(Laughter) now not that i am suggesting anybody in this viewers would use it to move and procure high-pleasant narcotics. However shall we embrace for a second that you simply had been. (Laughter) endure with me. The first thing you’ll discover on signing up to such a sites is how familiar it looks. Every single product — hundreds of products — has a sleek, excessive-res picture, a particular product description, a rate. There is a "Proceed to checkout" icon. There is even, most superbly of all, a "document this item" button.(Laughter) amazing. You browse via the website, you are making your alternative, you pay with the crypto-foreign money bitcoin, you enter an deal with — preferably now not your residence handle — and also you look ahead to your product to reach in the submit, which it virtually invariably does. And the rationale it does is not in view that of the intelligent encryption. That is predominant. Anything far easier than that.It is the consumer stories. (Laughter) You see, each single seller on these websites uses a pseudonym, naturally sufficient, however they maintain the equal pseudonym to build up a status. And considering the fact that it can be convenient for the purchaser to vary allegiance each time they need, the one way of trusting a supplier is that if they’ve a good historical past of constructive suggestions from other customers of the site. And this introduction of competitors and option does exactly what the economists would predict.Prices tend to go down, product nice tends to head up, and the carriers are attentive, they may be polite, they’re customer-centric, providing you all method of exact offers, one-offs, buy-one-get-one-frees, free delivery, to keep you glad. I spoke to Drugsheaven. Drugsheaven was once supplying first-class and consistent marijuana at a cheap price. He had an awfully beneficiant refund policy, exact T’s and C’s, and just right transport instances. "pricey Drugsheaven," I wrote, via the interior emailing procedure that’s also encrypted, of course."i’m new right here. Do you intellect if i buy just one gram of marijuana?" a couple of hours later, I get a reply. They always reply. "hello there, thanks in your email. Starting small is a intelligent thing to do. I might, too, if I have been you." (Laughter) "So no predicament if you need to start with only one gram. I do hope we are able to do trade together. Nice needs, Drugsheaven." (Laughter) I don’t know why he had a complicated English accent, however I assume he did. Now, this variety of client-centric angle is the intent why, when I reviewed 120,000 pieces of feedback that had been left on this sort of web sites over a three-month interval, 95 percent of them were five out of 5. The consumer, you see, is king. However what does that mean? Well, on the one hand, that implies there are more medicinal drugs, extra on hand, more comfortably, to more individuals. And through my reckoning, that’s not a good thing. However, then again, if you’ll take medicines, you have a moderately great way of guaranteeing a particular stage of purity and pleasant, which is highly main if you’re taking medications.And you are able to do so from the alleviation of your own dwelling, with out the risks related to buying on the streets. Now, as I said, you have got bought to be creative and innovative to survive in this market. And the 20 or so sites that are currently in operation — by the way, they don’t normally work, they are not at all times excellent; the web page that I confirmed you was once shut down 18 months ago, however not before it had became over a billion bucks’ valued at of alternate. But these markets, considering that of the tricky conditions in which they’re operating, the inhospitable conditions, are continuously innovating, perpetually thinking of ways of getting smarter, more decentralized, harder to censor, and more customer-pleasant. Let’s take the fee procedure.You do not pay along with your bank card, of path — that may lead instantly again to you. So you utilize the crypto-forex bitcoin, which is with ease exchanged for actual-world currencies and offers relatively a excessive measure of anonymity to its users. But on the establishing of these sites, persons observed a flaw. Probably the most unscrupulous purchasers had been going for walks away with peoples’ bitcoin earlier than they’d mailed the medicines out. The neighborhood got here up with an answer, called multi-signature escrow repayments. So on purchasing my item, i would send my bitcoin to a impartial, secure 1/3 digital wallet. The vendor, who would see that i would sent it, could be positive that they might then ship the product to me, after which when I received it, as a minimum two of the three persons engaged within the transaction — seller, purchaser, web page administrator — would have got to sign the transaction off with a specified digital signature, after which the money would be transferred.Splendid! Dependent. It works. However then they realized there was a predicament with bitcoin, when you consider that each bitcoin transaction is without a doubt recorded publicly in a public ledger. So if you’re clever, which you can try and work out who’s in the back of them. So that they came up with a tumbling carrier. Hundreds of persons ship their bitcoin into one address, they may be tumbled and jumbled up, and then the proper amount is distributed on to the correct recipients, but they may be specific bitcoins: micro-laundering techniques. (Laughter) it can be superb. Enthusiastic about what medicinal drugs are trending correct now on the dark web markets? Examine Grams, the quest engine. That you would be able to even buy some advertising space. (Laughter) Are you an moral client worried about what the medications industry is doing? Yeah. One seller will present you fair trade natural cocaine. (Laughter) that’s no longer being sourced from Colombian druglords, however Guatemalan farmers. They even promised to reinvest 20 percentage of any profits into neighborhood education applications. (Laughter) there’s even a thriller client. Now, anything you consider about the morality of these web sites — and i publish that it is no longer virtually an effortless question — the production of functioning, competitive, nameless markets, where no person knows who someone else is, continuously at danger of being shut down by the authorities, is a fantastic fulfillment, a ravishing success.And it’s that sort of innovation that’s why those on the fringes are in most cases the harbingers of what is to come. It’s easy to put out of your mind that considering that of its brief lifestyles, the web has actually converted mostly over the last 30 years or so. It started in the ’70s as a military task, morphed within the Eighties to a tutorial community, co-opted by means of industrial companies in the ’90s, after which invaded with the aid of absolutely everyone through social media within the noughties, but I feel it’ll change again. And i suppose things like the dark net markets — creative, secure, tricky to censor — I suppose that is the future.And the rationale it is the future is for the reason that we’re all concerned about our privateness. Surveys always show issues about privateness. The extra time we spend on-line, the more we fear about them, and people surveys exhibit our issues are growing. We’re involved about what occurs to our information. We’re worried about who probably watching us. Because the revelations from Edward Snowden, there is been a enormous develop within the number of people utilising various privacy-improving instruments.There are actually between two and three million everyday users of the Tor browser, nearly all of which use is flawlessly legitimate, generally even mundane. And there are enormous quantities of activists world wide engaged on systems and instruments to maintain you personal online — default encrypted messaging services. Ethereum, which is a venture which tries to link up the related but unused difficult drives of millions of computers all over the world, to create a style of dispensed web that no one really controls. Now, we have now had dispensed computing before, of course. We use it for the whole thing from Skype to the seek for extraterrestrial lifestyles.But you add disbursed computing and strong encryption — that’s very, very difficult to censor and control. Another referred to as MaidSafe works on an identical ideas. Yet another referred to as tornado, etc and so forth. And here is the thing — the extra of us become a member of, the more exciting those sites turn out to be, after which the extra of us join, and so on. And that i believe that’s what’s going to occur.Actually, it’s already happening. The darkish internet is now not a den for dealers and a hideout for whistle-blowers. It is already going mainstream. Just recently, the musician Aphex Twin launched his album as a gloomy web website online. Facebook has started a gloomy net website. A group of London architects have opened a depressing internet website online for individuals worried about regeneration tasks. Sure, the darkish net goes mainstream, and that i predict that fairly quickly, every social media company, every primary information outlet, and as a consequence most of you in this viewers, can be making use of the dark web, too. So the web is about to get more interesting, more enjoyable, extra progressive, more horrible, extra harmful.That’s just right information in the event you care about liberty. It can be just right news when you care about freedom. It is good news should you care about democracy. Additionally it is excellent news if you want to browse for illegal pornography and if you want to buy and sell medicinal drugs with impunity. Neither completely dark, nor thoroughly light. It can be no longer one facet or the opposite that’s going to win out, however both. Thank you very so much, certainly. (Applause) .

[asarahworld-writes]

Five Times Molly Solved Sherlock’s Case Three

"Sherlock Holmes, what the hell do you think you're doing?" The pathologist asked angrily, swivelling her chair as the consulting detective cautiously backed away. He'd had his nose in her hair, she was certain of it. "I'd thought we'd agreed that you'd stop trying to deduce what shampoo I use." Molly was proud of herself, standing up against the detective's borderline invasive deductions.

"Honey lemon with a chai infusion," was his response.

"Wrong again," Molly responded angrily, muttering under her breath about how infuriating consulting detectives were. Why he felt the need to deduce absolutely everything within his bloody sight was beyond her. She stiffened, sensing Sherlock's nose in her hair. "Are you interested in my report or not?" Molly asked, confused by Sherlock's abnormal behaviour.

"Not particularly. The victim is obviously meant to look as if she were strangled.” His tone had suddenly become louder, clipped and professional. He'd straightened his back and was now pacing the morgue, texting, presumably, John or one of the DI's from New Scotland Yard.

Molly didn't know why she'd put him off like that. She supposed it was a sense of professional courtesy, but in her heart, she knew that the simple reason was that Sherlock’s abnormal behaviour had scared her. It wasn't like him. Sherlock Holmes made rude and personal deductions often enough, but he was always... Not impartial, but disconnected from the reality of the relevant situation. As much as he'd deny it, Sherlock lived in a bubble. Deductions was a game. The real world was a chessboard. No, not a chessboard that would require a second willing participant. Molly, while unsure of the accurate analogy, knew that Sherlock did not consider the human element/variable/whatever in so many instances.

“Obviously," she replied frigidly. "Which means that it was staged to look like an accident, which means there's going to be security footage of something somewhere."

She still couldn't tell whether Sherlock was ignoring her or not as he swept out the door, no doubt on his way to investigate the security footage.

[gibsongirlselections]

Why the Technocratic Deep State Hates Debates

Calls are mounting quickly to cancel the 2020 presidential debates, three of which are scheduled to take place between September 29th and October 22nd.

Some hide behind claims that coronavirus concerns make the staging of a debate too risky, though these are generally the same people who have endorsed mass protests and riots for the past three months straight. Others, such as former Clinton White House Press Secretary Joe Lockhart, advise that “trying to debate someone incapable of telling the truth is an impossible contest to win.”

In general, the consensus both Right and Left is that this is a position of fear: either fear that three controlled debates will be the final straw to break the COVID camel’s back, or fear that Biden might be trounced in a toe-to-toe contest with Trump—both on stage and, consequently, at the polls.

But there is more going on here. The more extreme debate-skeptic proposals tip the Left’s hand, and reveal concerns far more substantial than Joe Biden’s apparent senility. Funnily enough, so do the less extreme proposals: we ought to pay attention to the compromises offered, and consider what they reveal about the cancel camp’s priorities.

Just look at Alex Shephard’s anti-debate diatribe at The New Republic. Its headline leaves little doubt about its goal: “Let’s Cancel Presidential Debates Forever.” Forever. This isn’t about protecting the political prospects of one nominee who struggles to project a strong (or even competent) image. This is about fundamentally changing the way we elect presidents, and the way we conduct our politics.

This may seem like an overreaction, especially given the televised debate’s relatively recent arrival to the American political scene: everyone remembers from history class that the first were held in 1960 between Richard Nixon and John F. Kennedy; some readers may even remember watching the 1960 debates live. But what this late date fails to tell us is that TV debates, while new in form, are merely the modern means of delivering something that the American electorate has always needed: a reminder that politics is a flesh-and-blood affair, that in the president we are electing not a party but a person.

We hear a lot of panicked rhetoric about personalism in politics these days. The supposed cult of personality built up around Donald Trump is viewed with a kind of fearful horror, thought to be a novelty and hoped to be an aberration. But American politics—especially presidential politics—have been intensely personal from their earliest days. The first presidents, up through Monroe, were giants: men whose names were known, whose personalities were legendary, whose fierce performances in the debates on the Constitution would all have been remembered on the days of their elections.

Much of the mid-19th century, too, was marked by presidents whose personalities—and histories of conflict—defined both their campaigns and their tenures. Jackson, Tyler, Polk, Taylor, and even the short-lived Harrison (all but the politico Polk accomplished military men), were all elected far more on their reputations than on any platform. This is all to say that a politics of spectacle, performance, and persona is not a novel outgrowth of cable news and TV debates: it is a grand American tradition as old as the presidency itself, and inseparable from it.

In fact, it was really only in the second half of the 19th century, as the power and scope of the federal government expanded rapidly, that the presidency became more about the party than the person. It was then that the first generation of American technocrats found their way into the Oval Office: men like Grover Cleveland and Chester Arthur, who were capable policy-men and administrators, but who would have mustered roughly the same energy on a debate stage as a wet mop.

With a few deviations whose last name was Roosevelt—who were actually not so much deviations as combinations, simultaneously policy-men and personalists—this pattern continued almost uninterrupted until 1952, when national hero Dwight Eisenhower—a man with practically no policy at all—swept the electoral vote against technocrat Adlai Stevenson.

It was immediately after Eisenhower’s eight years in the Oval that Richard Nixon, his vice president, was defeated narrowly by the charismatic Jack Kennedy—not coincidentally, in a campaign that included the first-ever televised debates. Suddenly, with the back-to-back election of two charismatic figures over two policy-minded ones—Eisenhower had defeated Stevenson again by an even wider margin in 1956—America had reentered an age of presidential politics defined by the personal.

Once televised debates became a permanent fixture of the campaign in 1976, this historic transition became even more pronounced. In virtually every election since, the candidate who has won the election has been the obvious winner in the debates. This is not to say that elections have been won because debates have been won; it is simply to observe that the factors that contribute to debate victory—sharpness, image, projection of strength, etc.—have become decisive factors in our presidential elections, and the debates provide the people with an opportunity to evaluate candidates based on these factors.

Why the opposition, then? The personalist revival has been rising in tandem with an inverse trend: the constant expansion of powerful party establishments, and the extension of entrenched ideologues into nonprofits, into academia, into every corner of government and public life. This establishment, on the left and right, is the cozy home of the technocrats of our time. Call it the swamp, call it the deep state, call it whatever—this blob of technocratic and bureaucratic power is a serious counterweight to power of the chief executive, and not by accident. And in 2020, both the presidency and the so-called deep state are just about as powerful as ever.

Establishment pol Joe Biden’s primary win over the dully demagogic Bernie Sanders might be considered an intraparty victory of the technocratic element over the personalist. Donald Trump’s meteoric rise to the top of the GOP is exactly the opposite. In order to secure their measured success and expand it into a long-term political program, progressive technocrats must defend Biden from Trump’s tornado of personal energy.

Protecting Biden from debate, even catapulting him into the Oval Office—these are just steps along the way. “Cancel presidential debates forever” points to a much more ambitious agenda: one in which platforms, establishments, data—a billion things that make no sense and bear no interest for the average American voter—eclipse the presentation and persuasion of a bona fide human being as a candidate for office. In turn, these things will eclipse the importance of the person even in the office. The new technocrats want FDR’s administrative leviathan, without his human touch.

This is made apparent by the plans offered in the name of compromise. There is a massive push from the left to institute some form of real-time fact-checking if the debates are to go on at all. We cannot have any illusions about just whom a quasi-factual live analysis, overseen by a less-than-impartial mainstream media, would serve to benefit. It would not, as its proponents suggest, offer an unbiased counterbalance to erroneous claims by the debaters. It would simply offer an inhuman, coldly analytical counterbalance to the human narrative presented by the candidates. That’s a hell of a win for the technocrats.

Or we can just get rid of audiences, for good. Shephard writes that the presence of an audience contributing authentic reactions as the debate proceeds “underlines the fact that what is happening is a spectacle, not anything of substance.” Like Walter Mondale’s claim, brought up in a 1984 debate, that “President Reagan offers showmanship, not leadership,” it’s a silly mistake to think that the two are mutually exclusive—and it’s suggestive of a dry, sterile view of politics and human affairs on the part of the accuser. It has apparently not occurred to these people that a quadrennial contest for occupation of the most powerful office in the history of mankind might just be worthy of a little spectacle, a little drama, a little fight—and that some members of the public might be entitled to a ringside seat.

The anti-personalists would be perfectly happy to literally remove the great mass of people from this decisive moment in the political process, leaving two men alone to talk policy in an otherwise empty room, overseen by a panel of bureaucrats authorized to enforce the approved version of reality over and against any possible objections. Makes you wonder what they’ll do with the government, if we let them take a crack at it.

The post Why the Technocratic Deep State Hates Debates appeared first on The American Conservative.

[newyorktheater]

Playwright David Adjmi’s delightful new book Lot Six: A Memoir (Harper Collins, 388 pages) is the most entertaining theater memoir I’ve read since  Act One, the gold standard of theatrical memoirs, which the celebrated playwright and director Moss Hart wrote in 1959 (two years before his death) about his stage-struck, impoverished childhood in the Bronx, his theatrical apprenticeship and his first of many Broadway triumphs. If there are some similarities in the stories – and the wit – of the two Jewish New York theater artists born into challenging circumstances seven decades apart, their differences reflect the many ways the theater has changed. Hart was forced to drop out of school as a teenager, had his first play produced at 18, and was writing Broadway hits starting in his twenties. The Brooklyn-born Adjmi matriculated at several prestigious universities and graduate programs, and has won major prizes and fellowships — in the acknowledgements page, he thanks nine different writers residencies where he wrote much of the memoir – yet at the age of 47, he has not yet had a play on Broadway. (His new play “Stereophonic,” was aiming for a Broadway run in 2021, but like everything else, is currently in limbo.) He is probably best known for his play “3C,” an Off-Broadway parody of “Three’s Company,” and then largely because he won a lawsuit against the copyright holders of the TV sitcom. If “Act One” capped an illustrious career, “Lot Six” promises a higher profile for a writer who deserves it. Adjmi wins me over in his very first story, about seeing “Sweeney Todd” when he was eight years old. His mother had been taking him from their insulated Syrian Jewish community in Brooklyn to Broadway shows since the age of five, determined “to bring me up as cultured – even if she didn’t know what culture was, exactly.” But this musical shocked him from the first earsplitting shriek of a factory whistle and the terrifying first song. “Was this the right show? Where was the pie lady from the commercial?” What follows is the funniest yet clearest and most spot-on description of “Sweeney Todd” that I’ve ever read – all the more priceless because it includes his reaction to it, which was passionate enough to ignite not just an identification with the wronged Sweeney but a life-long devotion to the theater. “Sweeney Todd made me physically sick, but somehow the ugliness in it was exquisite….I wanted that beauty in my life.” After the first scene, however, there is little mention of theater for a very long stretch, as the author takes us through the next decade or so of his lonely, circumscribed life — his quirky, dysfunctional family, parochial community, and oppressively rule-dominated yeshiva, where he most definitely did not belong: “I found God very off-putting. He was a bully who inflicted psychological torture on people . And the Bible wasn’t spiritually edifying. It didn’t fill me with emotion, it didn’t make me want to bolt up and start singing or dancing or sobbing the way I did watching The Wiz and 42nd Street.” The anecdotes from his childhood can be horrid: Sent to school hungry, because his neglectful parents couldn’t even get it together to feed him, he once asked a group of girls whether they could share their snacks with him. One of them threw a fistful of potato sticks on the dirty floor, and giggled. David scooped them up and ate them. “Soon my classmates were all standing in a semicircle, throwing food at me – dried fruit and potato sticks and Twizzlers, and I ate whatever they threw. It didn’t feel like a compromise or humiliation, it didn’t feel like anything…” His own family made him feel alienated because of their ridicule of what they called Lot Six, which is a dismissive epithet used by the Syrian Jewish community for queer people. Adjmi knew he was attracted to men from an early age, but never said it aloud until 14, when his therapist (to whom he was sent because of bad grades) encouraged him to do so using a hand puppet. The overall impression of Adjmi’s unhappy childhood is far from grim, because of the many moments of rebellion and relief – the tales of mischief with his one friend, Howie, for example – and also thanks to the author’s sharp, often comic rendering of unforgettable characters and vivid moments. Adjmi is mercilessly precise in his description of physical appearances. A long paragraph skewers a vengeful teacher by detailing her features, including “fingernails..so long and glossy they seemed part machine. Each element felt so blown out and artificial that when one put them all together it was like a surrealist painting…” It’s not surprising that, as he tells us in an Author’s Note, all the names in his memoir have been changed, even those of his family. But if such a visual portrait might feel like revenge, he applies the same unrelenting eye to characters he likes. “…his fingers were long and thin like insect antennae…” “She was from Los Angeles but seemed like a New Yorker. She wore a lot of black and looked like she’d be good at hailing cabs….” “He was doe-eyed and chinless, unrugged and soft-voiced. On cold days, his nose appeared bright red” The second year acting students at Juilliard “had the unnatural ablated openness of people in cults – their skin seemed ripped off and all the raw nerves exposed.” About that “ablated.” It means tissue surgically removed. “Lot Six” contains the sort of profuse use of abstruse vocabulary most common in poets and autodidacts – cathecting, pelagic, proleptic – sometimes paired with a low-rent word for what I assumed was intended as comic effect — dyadic closeness, cynosural cuddling. Given this display of erudition, I was surprised at his occasional lapses in grammar and his profligate use of “disinterest” to mean lack of interest rather than impartiality. It comes as something of a revelation about halfway through the book, when he tells us (amid much discussion of Nietzsche and literature) that as a sophomore transfer student at Sarah Lawrence he purchased “Barron’s Vocabulary Builder and a pack of index cards….” – and shot the words he learned “like lead balls from a cannon.” There are other unusual choices in “Lot Six.” It includes footnotes, which often tell stories that he could have included in the body of his book, including, weirdly, the story of his coming out to his family. Given the title of the book, there is relatively little about his gay life – little more than a few paragraphs on his first awkward sexual encounter, and a few pages about his first boyfriend. It isn’t until about two-thirds of the way through “Lot Six” that the author – and his character – dive deep into the theater. Feeling at a low point in his life, he takes a train into the city from college and buys a ticket to see “Six Degrees of Separation” – which he describes with the same clarity and passion as “Sweeney Todd,” struck by how much playwright John Guare, “whom I had never met…knew me.”– then walks through Times Square. “I stood for a moment in the jangle of voices and noise, and I felt a sense of enormous calm wash over me. It was where I belonged.” He experiences a similar epiphany again walking in Manhattan a few years later, this time in Chelsea, on Thanksgiving break from his graduate studies at the Iowa Writers Workshop (having decided senior year to become a playwright.) He began hearing dialogue for a play in his head. “It was uncanny….the sort of thing that was supposed to happen to writers all the time” – but had never happened to him. Theater people in the know will probably be talking most about the chapters of “Lot Six” that focus on his year in the playwriting program of the Juilliard School, and his tense relationship with the co-head of the program, whom he calls Gloria (but whose real identity is easy to uncover.) He graphically depicts her brutal treatment – how she looks at her cell phone, rummages through her handbag, and sometimes simply leaves the classroom, whenever he reads new pages: “Her overlong fingernails plucked the surface of the table with an aggressive clack. ‘Well,’ she trilled, ‘do you actually need comments on this, or can we just move on?’ Weeks later: “’Are you trying to write cardboard characters,’ she said, ‘or are you trying to write people?’ “The way she said the word ‘people’ made it sound like I wasn’t really a person, how would I even remotely know the workings of the species.” “’People,’ I replied with a slight aphasia…..” There is a measure of satisfaction from the fact that, although Gloria so upset Adjmi that for a long time he had trouble writing, she also (inadvertently) helped contribute to his first theatrical triumph – a convoluted tale that’s funny and touching, and involves a gazelle; that’s all I’ll say. “Lot Six,” like “Act One,” more or less ends with the story of the playwright’s first big success, a play called “Stunning” that was produced at Lincoln Center in 2009 and extended several times. But unlike the story of the Broadway hit that concludes Hart’s memoir, “Stunning” didn’t make David Adjmi rich, and it didn’t make him famous; it made him infamous, at least among the Syrian Jewish community of Brooklyn. They were the subject of “Stunning,” a bleak play that places some largely unappealing characters into a plot he tells us was loosely based on “A Streetcar Named Desire.” It was a play he wrote when he had given up on playwriting, never expecting that “Stunning” would be produced, viewing it in fact as unproduceable. “It was a suicide note — my one last missive to humanity before hurtling myself like Anna Karenina onto the train tracks at McDonald Avenue.” So it makes sense that “Lot Six” ends not in a celebratory theater party for his play, but in a quiet dinner out with his mother and sister, at which his sister recounts an ugly family funeral that Adjmi did not attend. The reaction to the play, and the discoveries he made as a result – “I’d summoned the very past I’d wanted to annihilate” – are among what feel like the new lessons in “Lot Six” about the theater of today. And they are stunning.

Book Review: Lot Six: A Memoir Of Gay, Yeshiva-Tortured Syrian Jewish Playwright David Adjmi Playwright David Adjmi’s delightful new book Lot Six: A Memoir (Harper Collins, 388 pages) is the most entertaining theater memoir I’ve read since  

[kashmir-box]

Women Clothing Tips

1.      Become a specialist observer

The main thing you can do to enhance your sense of style and prepare your eye is this: take a gander at how other individuals are getting along it! What sorts of poncho tops are they wearing, what hues do they blend, what shoes do they combine with their outfits, how would they embellish et cetera.

Imagine you are a scientist in a remote culture and are endeavoring to discover however much as could reasonably be expected about the neighborhood traditions.

Utilize your ordinary condition as your lab: Sit in a bistro and simply watch individuals cruising by, give careful consideration to your associates' and companions' outfits and look at what your kindred suburbanites are wearing on your prepare ride to work . Utilize Pinterest and mold online journals to supplement your genuine investigations and open yourself to a more extensive scope of styles.

The key all through this entire procedure is to be as exact as could reasonably be expected. On the off chance that you see an outfit that you like, make sense of what precisely makes it so incredible. Is it the general vibe of the look (e.g. preppy, bohemian or moderate), the shading plan or a particular piece? Suppose the two pics above grabbed your eye. Is it accurate to say that it was a result of the impartial hues? The basic lines? Do you simply like huge sun glasses and dark tote sacks?

That is the means by which you prepare your eye, by watching and giving careful consideration to how other individuals wear garments and what kinds of things impact you and which don't. It's super essential, yet in the event that you get some information about it, individuals who have an extraordinary style and are 'into design' will likely disclose to you that they do this as of now, and have been doing as such for a considerable length of time. After some time, you will get increasingly of a vibe for what sorts of garments you like and how you like them to fit, and would then be able to utilize that data to redesign your closet, either by wearing your chiffon saree recently or by including some new pieces.

 2.      Imitate

How do understudies in craftsmanship school take in their specialty? Revise: By contemplating and replicating the styles of different craftsmen.

I know, I know, I'm typically about 'building up your own one of a kind style' and overlooking other individuals' standards. However, For an entire learner, mimicking others can be a super supportive imaginative procedure, since it gives you a solid outline that you can use as a beginning stage. Most design novices that email me specify feeling overpowered and out and out confounded. They know they have to try, however don't know where to begin.

My recommendation is dependably the same: Imitate! Pick one outfit and duplicate it. At that point survey what you like/don't care for about it, do this process again.

Discover an outfit on Pinterest or on a mold blog that you could envision wearing for one of your consistent everyday exercises, for instance to work or on the ends of the week. At that point, utilize your own particular garments to recreate that outfit as nearly as would be prudent, or go pashmina shawls online and attempt stuff on.

 Impersonating causes you on two levels:

By endeavoring to duplicate an outfit as consummately as could be expected under the circumstances, you are compelled to truly focus on subtle elements, similar to the attack of the pieces and how they cooperate to make the general outline of the outfit. With regards to mold, subtle elements like that issue. For instance, the two outfits above both comprise of a white shirt, pants and a darker belt. In any case, the cut and attack of those pieces, and subsequently likewise the outline and general vibe of the outfit, is totally unique.

Over that copying is likewise basically an extraordinary method to test and focus on your individual preferences. In the most ideal situation you adore your replicated look and have found another most loved that you'll need to wear constantly (proceed, outfits aren't copyrighted). What's more, on the off chance that you don't care for the outfit on yourself, you can utilize that as a chance to take in more about your pure chiffon saree as well, by endeavoring to make sense of precisely what it is you don't care for about it. The attack of the pieces, the hues, the materials? Would you be able to think about an approach to change it to improve it? Are there any angles you do like about the look? How might you fuse into your closet?

 3.      Get out of your usual range of familiarity

Here on INTO MIND I gab about characterizing your very own style and building your closet around it. On the off chance that you are a form beginner, that may seem like an incomprehensible assignment. How are you expected to know whether you lean toward brilliant hues versus neutrals or feel best in stream y bohemian pieces versus customized isolates? Here's the means by which: You give it a shot.

The best way to ever get to a place where you can certainly say, yes this is my style is by presenting yourself to a huge amount of various embroidery sarees and testing, to discover what you like, and additionally every one of the things you don't care for.

Everybody you see who has an awesome feeling of style right currently has experienced this experimentation stage sooner or later in their lives and could almost certainly disclose to you millions os stories about all the 'unpleasant' outfits they wore before they at long last settled on a style. As an aggregate mold novice, you can do your best to accelerate that procedure, however regardless you have to experience it.

My recommendation: Make it fun, yet viable. Effectively search out new styles, hues and outlines that are outside of your common safe place, just for the purpose of research. Set the stakes super low to maintain a strategic distance from overpower: Go into stores just to attempt on a cluster of stuff, take mental or real notes of what you like/aversion and leave again without purchasing anything.

An accommodating method to propel yourself out of your usual range of familiarity is to set yourself little difficulties. For instance, go into a store you have never purchased anything from and move yourself to locate a total outfit that you like and would wear. Or on the other hand attempt on that one piece that you cherish on other individuals however figure you can't pull off yourself, and check whether you can assemble an outfit around it.

 4.      Use your most-worn pieces as the beginning stage

Regardless of whether you aren't very content with the condition of your closet at the present time, odds are you claim no less than several individual pieces that you do like. A simple, fall flat evidence approach to begin updating your closet and how you buy  poncho online. Here's the ticket:

As an initial step, make sense of what isolates your top picks from whatever remains of your garments, i.e. why you wear them all the more regularly. Think hues, texture, fit/outline, general style and points of interest.

Once more, ensure you are exact now. Rather than settling at 'I like some jeans since it's agreeable and has a pleasant fit', discover what correct component of the piece makes it so agreeable and well-fitting. The all-regular material, the high midsection, the thicker texture?

When you have characterized what you like about your most loved pieces, you'll be left with a point by point rundown of things that are altogether your style and that you can utilize a guide while out shopping. Since you have been wearing those things for some time as of now, there is a much lower hazard that you'll purchase something that will wind up un-worn at the back of your storage room.

Something else you can do is to complete a little online research to perceive how other individuals are styling your most-worn pieces. Suppose one of your closet top choices is a basic mariners/striped best.

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Freedom is Uncertain

 By: Jessa Mae G. Andres

Freedom is good but it can put you to danger.

Base on the English dictionary freedom is the state of being free.

Freedom is the state of being expressive of what you have without the consent from the others.

Being free is the thing that others happiness because they don't want to be control by the others. Just like what people want during martial law they always say the word "freedom" because they don't want to be controlled by our former president Ferdinand Marcos.

Freedom has the advantages and dis advantages.

Being free you can do whatever you want

You can go wherever you want to go

You can get whatever you want

But being free is complicated there are times that some people that are free became boastful. They always want to be follow by others. They are prone to accident.

Freedom is the right of all sentient beings" Now you may be asking why the hell am I bringing up the motto of a character rooted in '80 merchandising cartoon? Because back then, such a motto and ideology, that ALL beings were worthy of the same rights and to be treated as equally precious was the mentality one wrote for a character indeed to be a hero. That it was what made a hero a hero that he was supposed to be universal in his goodness and his love for all. Yet in today's progressive society, saying that all people's lives matter is now racist. Part of me is terrified to consider that it could even have been the point, all along, of this "good to everyone" mentality. Part of me feel disgusted at the very idea that white nationalists might have been right, that by trying to treat blacks/Latinos/Arabs/gays/whatever as equals we were all complicit in the demonization of white and straight people. But you know what? I think it's actually MORE spooky that this was NOT the end goal that this was NOT some conspiracy as /pol/ would make use want to believe, because then what does it say about our true nature that even when we try to do everything for the betterment of all that we end up creating a society that is equally.

Article 10 gives everyone the right to freedom of expression, which includes the freedom to hold opinions and to receive and impart information and ideas without State interference. This includes the right to communicate and to express oneself in any medium, including through words, pictures, images and actions (including through public protest and demonstrations).

The type of expression protected includes:

Political expression (including comment on matters of general public interest); Artistic expression; and Commercial expression, particularly when it also raises matters of legitimate public debate and concern. For obvious reasons political expression is given particular precedence and protection.  Artistic expression - vital for fostering individual fulfilment and the development of ideas – is also robustly protected.

To ensure that free expression and debate is possible, there must be protection for elements of a free press, including protection of journalistic sources.

The right to free expression would be meaningless if it only protected certain types of expression – so (subject to certain limitations) the right will protect both popular and unpopular expression, including speech that might shock others.

Interferences on free expression usually involve restrictions on publication; penalties for publication (such as criminalizing speech or awarding damages); requiring journalists to reveal their sources; imposing disciplinary measures or confiscating material.

Prior censorship poses special dangers to freedom of expression. If the authorities are able to suppress publications which nobody has seen, it becomes impossible for others to verify whether the suppression was indeed justified; it is a question of time before such an unchecked power is abused to prevent criticism of government. One partial solution is to make the authorities’ decision subject to court appeal. But this creates a different problem; control by the authorities of the timing of the flow of information is a considerable power. Challenging a decision to censor information will be an expensive and slow process, which many may not even use. Furthermore, news is a perishable commodity, so that success in court after lengthy proceedings will often prove a pyrrhic victory.

Article 11: Freedom of assembly and association

1. Everyone has the right to freedom of peaceful assembly and to freedom of association with others, including the right to form and to join trade unions for the protection of his interests.

2. No restrictions shall be placed on the exercise of these rights other than such as are prescribed by law and are necessary in a democratic society in the interests of national security or public safety, for the prevention of disorder or crime, for the protection of health or morals or for the protection of the rights and freedoms of others.

Human right #26

1. Everyone has the right to education. Education shall be free, at least in the elementary and fundamental stages. Elementary education shall be compulsory. Technical and professional education shall be made generally available and higher education shall be equally accessible to all on the basis of merit.

2. Education shall be directed to the full development of the human personality and to the strengthening of respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms. It shall promote understanding, tolerance and friendship among all nations, racial or religious groups, and shall further the activities of the United Nations for the maintenance of peace.

3. Parents have a prior right to choose the kind of education that shall be given to their children.

Human right #10

Everyone is entitled in full equality to a fair and public hearing by an independent and impartial tribunal, in the determination of his rights and obligations and of any criminal charge against him.