#try not to run yourself in circles trying to identify with the white “default” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jesncin · 1 year ago

Note

Hi Jesncin! Long-time appreciator of your Supes fanart, first-time anon. As someone that also has a lot of love for American Alien, Smashes the Klan, and thought MAWS was pretty ok/good, my vibe is that the generally warm response to the show stems from it being a consolation/reprieve to the dour state of non-comic Supes media from the last decade, though certainly as you’ve pointed out it could benefit from being less cowardly about what it wants to say politically and taking advantage of that less restrained Adult Swim label.

I really like your assessment of immigrant solidarity between a proudly Asian Lois and Supes being the factor that makes him appealing to her. However, I'm also curious how you think that would change if you specifically throw in conflicting generational statuses into the mix, and perhaps remove that aspect of cultural pride from Lois' character while maintaining her immigrant status.

While I certainly don’t think it was the authorial intent, part of me wants to read the downplaying of MAWS Lois’ heritage as possibly reflective of a contradictory feeling of disconnect, intentional or otherwise, to one’s native culture as an early-generation immigrant—similar to how Tommy Lee is presented as eagerly assimilative at the start of Smashes the Klan. As someone that is native Chinese but spent most of my childhood and adolescence abroad in predominantly English-speaking countries (without being subjected to excessive prejudice), I’m personally in a similar boat as Tommy of not possessing an innate fondness for my heritage beyond the occasional surface-level ornamentation and even sometimes even having derisive things to say about it. In my own experience this inverse difference in valuing cultural identity between first and second gen immigrants can be a real obstacle in forming relationships between them.

As Clark was wholly raised Kansan and typically knows so little about Kryptonian culture yet wants nothing more than to understand it, I think it makes for a more dramatically contrasting dynamic if he disagrees with a first generation immigrant like me or (theoretically) MAWS Lois on the value of discovering/retaining heritage. If the show had the stones to more concretely define her generational status, I think a Lois that shamelessly couldn’t care less about valuing her native cultural identity would have a more tangible angle for why she isn’t able to initially empathize with what Clark goes through in MAWS, despite them having that commonality. That by itself could be something that upsets the Clark/Supes/Lois dynamic in the beginning but could be reconciled with time and dialog going forward.

Anyways, I really appreciate your art and your thoughts on MAWS. Girl Taking Over is also on my list to check out now, thanks for the reco!

Why hello there! Welcome happy to have you here. Yes, read Girl Taking Over! It's very good.

Yeah, I've said before that things like the Snyderverse has burnt a lot of Super fans out into the habit of celebrating and fixating on the shallowest characterizations. But again, we've got to ask ourselves what story are we celebrating! Because it's bizarre that even the radio show arc Superman Smashes the Klan is based on (in the 40s) is way more political than this supposed Adult Swim show is in 2023. Never mind that shows like Supergirl didn't have nearly as warm a reception, and it's a far better written show.

I feel there's a misunderstanding here, never in my essay did I say I wanted a "proudly Asian Lois". In fact, my suggestions leaned towards her dealing with some manner of assimilation, cultural distance or even shame. I praised this aspect in Girl Taking Over, and I've written her that way for Indonesian Lois too- because I think that's a stronger parallel to what Clark allegorically represents. It'd make the hope they give each other meaningfully go both ways. At most in my essay I've said MAWS!Lois should at least be sentimental to her hanbok, and that her reactions to things should be informed by her Asian American experiences. Nothing to do with cultural pride. A desire to see an Asian Lois inspired to connect to her culture again sure, but not pride.

While I see where you're coming from, I caution projecting a read where no effort was made to tell that kind of story. I've said in my essay that it isn't impossible to write an Asian American character with internalized issues regarding how they perceive themselves and other marginalized groups, but that requires community specificity and time to explore that specificity because otherwise you've got the optics of Black Character Is Racist to The Blue Elves. The show failed to express that with Sam Lane, so we can't project that being the case for Lois. In Smashes the Klan, Tommy's actions are a result of following his dad's desire to assimilate. Gene Yang made it a point that Roberta and her mom still cling to their culture and cope with it differently.

I think ultimately even if you try to repurpose Season 2 with this dynamic, it just doesn't work with what S1 set up. Lois isn't detached or resentful of her culture, she's just whitewashed. If she had complicated feelings about her heritage, you'd think that would be explored when she chose to wear a hanbok to a party- or when her dad came over they'd showcase the generational divide they had. MAWS wrote a white character pizza and sprinkled Asian toppings on top, with no intention to create any kind of narrative.

I get not having the desire to connect with some aspects of your heritage, I feel that way towards my East Asian ancestry. And I've certainly met Asian Americans who can be viciously judgmental of more culturally connected Asians. But unless that kind of thinking is unpacked, especially with how cruelly xenophobic it can be to other immigrants- I can't help but reject it as a dynamic. Let alone a romance.

Girl Taking Over is largely about the dynamic between Lois and her frenemy roommate Niki- someone loud and proud of her Asian identity (that it makes Lois uncomfortable). The story works because it unpacks both of their resentment towards each other as foils. I don't see that happening in MAWS. Clark and Lois don't have that foil, Lois is just allegorically bigoted towards a guy who's trying.

#askjesncin #read American Born Chinese if u haven't yet. The GN not the show. haven't watched that #try not to run yourself in circles trying to identify with the white “default”#bad road leads u nowhere #jesncin talks maws #jesncin dc meta

18 notes · View notes

agerefandom · 4 years ago

Text

system/REGRESS.Steven

Fandom: Steven Universe

Characters: Big sister Amethyst, regressor!Steven, Spinel, Pearl, Ruby, Sapphire

Words: 3,100

Summary: Slight AU of the Steven Universe Movie: What if the rejuevenator worked on Steven, sending him into a regressed state that he can’t get out of? Amethyst dodges the hit and becomes the one who has to bring everyone together.

Warnings: Lots of swearing from Amethyst’s internal dialogue. Canon-typical violence. Involuntary regression. Conditioned subservience (rebooted Pearl). Mentions of diapers and accidents.

This fight is a shitshow. The strange gem, who Amethyst has nicknamed ‘Pigtails,’ moves like no one she’s fought before. Pigtails’ form can warp to absorb their attacks and dodge their blows: Amethyst hasn’t even managed to uncoil her whip, she’s so busy running after their opponent as she bounces across the grass from one Crystal Gem to the next.

Pigtails lands a solid hit on Steven, sending him sprawling, and then her body begins to stretch. Amethyst runs after the stranger as she wraps herself around the lighthouse. She isn’t afraid of this weirdo, not as long as her friends are beside her.

“No!” Steven yells from behind them, and Amethyst realizes Pigtails’ plan the moment before she releases the tension in her body and ricochets back towards them, her scythe a blur of light as she spins it.

Thanks to Steven’s warning, Amethyst manages to dive out of the way. The others aren’t as lucky, and Amethyst hears herself cry out as Pearl and Garnet’s forms are dissolved, their gems dropping to the ground with a sound that Amethyst never wants to hear again.

That’s no standard weapon, if it took two Crystal Gems out in one hit. It must be older gem tech, from the war. Amethyst rolls to her feet, finally unfurling her whip, but Pigtails doesn’t even spare her a glance as she makes for Steven with the glowing scythe raised above her head.

Steven gets to his feet, summoning his shield and meeting the stranger halfway. Her weapon slices through Steven’s defense and passes right through Steven’s body. Lines of sparking energy start to cross Steven’s skin where the blade has touched him, and now Amethyst is sure that it’s gem tech. She’s seen Steven take hits like this before, made to dissolve gem’s corporeal forms.

“Who are you?” Steven yells, catching the gem’s arms as she tries another swipe. “Why are you doing this?”

“You should know!” screams the stranger, pulling free and bringing her blade up for a wild strike.

Seeing Pigtails unbalanced, Amethyst moves. Her whip wraps around the handle of the scythe and pulls it from the stranger’s hands. It spins through the air, a blur of crackling energy, and Amethyst manages to pull it from the air without touching the blade.

Pigtails spins around, her shifting pupils setting on Amethyst with absolute hatred. “You,” she hisses.

Amethyst runs forward, stolen weapon in one hand. Pigtails tenses and looks around for an escape, but Steven wraps his arms around her middle and holds her tight. Snarling, the gem stretches her arms towards Amethyst, but she manages to slide underneath the gloved hands and comes up swinging, the blade slicing neatly through Pigtails’ stomach above Steven’s arms.

The gem’s eyes widen, and her arms retract back to her sides. For a moment, she stares into Amethyst’s eyes, and then her form dissipates and the gem falls to the ground.

“Pearl! Garnet!” Steven calls, stepping over the pink gem and bolting for the place where they fell. Amethyst watches him run, the remaining lines of the weapon’s energy slowly fading from his arms. He’s limping slightly, one hand over his gem as he runs up the hill. He’s hurt.

After a moment of confusion, Amethyst finds a switch on the side of the scythe and sighs in relief when it folds back into itself and stops glowing. She tucks it into her gem for later and follows Steven up the hill to their discorporated friends.

Steven is holding Pearl when she reaches him, crying hard enough that his shoulders are shaking.

“Steven, it’s okay.” Amethyst puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “They’ve just been forced into their gems. They’ll be back soon. That thing was probably some kind of destabilizer.”

“Sorry.” Steven wipes his eyes. “I- I can’t stop crying. I don’t know why.” He makes a pained sound, and Amethyst watches him double over, Pearl toppling to the grass as both hands go to his stomach. A crackling pink energy expands from his gem and then recedes again.

“Steven!” Amethyst kneels down, and he falls against her. She catches him easily enough, peering over his shoulder to see what’s happening. The familiar lines of gem-tech are still coursing through his gem, fluctuating with crackling white light. Shit. This is bad: that isn’t what destabilizers usually do to Steven. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“M’sorry,” Steven sobs, curling into himself. “I can’t- I’m-” The words break into tears, the kind of wails that Amethyst only hears when Steven is regressing.

“It’s okay,” Amethyst says, in what she hopes is a soothing voice. “It’s okay, kiddo, I’ve got you. You’re safe now.” Steven reaches out for her, and Amethyst tugs him into her lap, rubbing circles on his back. “You’re okay,” she repeats, trying to sound calm as her eyes scour the grass for Ruby and Sapphire. She sees both of them, whole and unharmed, and she relaxes slightly.

She hasn’t seen Steven regress on the battlefield: he usually manages to make it back to the beach house. But Steven hasn’t seen the other gems discorporated in a while. It makes sense that it was a trigger. Or maybe the ongoing pain from the scythe has an impact: Amethyst can still see the lines in his gem. Usually, pain prevents Steven from regressing, but maybe this is the opposite? Ugh, she wishes one of the others was here. She’s good at being a babysitter, but she thinks of herself as more of a playmate than a real caregiver. Big sister material. She’s good with the diapers and the feeding and all that, but she’s never been great at figuring out what Steven needs or wants when he’s like this.

“Okay, kiddo, can you sit here for me?” Amethyst asks, patting Steven’s shoulders. “I’ve got to get our friends.”

“Nnnn!” Steven wraps his hand in Amethyst’s shirt and pulls. It’s a feeble yank, but enough to let Amethyst know that she’s not going anywhere without a fuss.

“Alright,” she says grimly. “I can do this.”

Amethyst scoops Pearl up from the ground, ready to stick the gem in her waistband. It’s not ideal, but it’s not like Amethyst has any pockets. She can usually carry anything she needs in her gem, but it would be a horrible violation to stick Pearl in there.

Just as Amethyst shifts to put Pearl in a safe place, though, the gem starts glowing.

Back already? Amethyst obligingly places her gem on the grass, scooting backwards with Steven in her arms to give Pearl the space to reform.

Sure enough, her gem lifts into the air, and a shape takes form in the light… a shimmering oyster.

Huh. Amethyst blinks up at it. That’s weird.

“Please, identify yourself,” a voice says. It does and does not sound like Pearl.

“Amethyst?” says Amethyst, who isn’t entirely sure what else to do. Is this some new defense mechanism? She’s seen Pearl reform a dozen times, and it’s never been like this.

“Greetings, Amethyst,” says the voice. “Please state customization options.”

“I- what? Just be Pearl!” Amethyst says, keeping one arm around Steven. He’s stopped crying, at least, and is staring up at the glowing oyster with curious eyes.

“Default setting selected. Please stand by.”

What the fuck is happening?? Amethyst asks herself, unwilling to swear while Steven is regressed next to her.

The shimmering shape around Pearl’s gem drifts towards the ground, and glows brighter. Finally, a familiar body begins to emerge, and Amethyst relaxes.

“P’rl!” Steven babbles excitedly, clapping his hands.

The light solidifies, and Pearl steps onto the grass. She’s wearing a dress that Amethyst has never seen on her, knee-length and made with soft pink gauze. She glances around the hill before her eyes land on Amethyst, and widen.

Immediately, she drops to one knee, bending her head low enough that her hair nearly brushes the grass.

“My Amethyst,” she says. “Thank you for bringing me into the world. I am at your eternal service, as your new Pearl.”

There is a ringing silence.

“What the fuck, Pearl?” Amethyst manages, forgetting about the baby beside her for a moment. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

“A joke, my Amethyst? I can tell one if you’d like,” Pearl says, bringing her eyes up to meet Amethyst’s. “I seek only to bring you pleasure.”

Right. Amethyst gets to her feet, pulling Steven up with her. Steven stumbles, clumsy in his regression, and Amethyst steadies him with an arm around his waist. “This isn’t funny, Pearl. Steven is hurt. Can you tell what’s wrong with him?”

“I can try,” Pearl says, and gets to her feet. She drifts over to Steven, her little slippers hardly touching the grass. Everything about her is unfamiliar, wrong. The way her hands are clasped in front of her, shoulders down, her eyes flickering to Amethyst and then back to the ground. It’s all a show of subservience, and it makes Amethyst’s skin crawl. This isn’t a joke. This is something else.

Pearl begins inspecting Steven, pulling up his shirt to peer at his gem and then running her hands over his arms. She seems curious, pressing her fingers into his shoulders and looking surprised at the feeling of his skin.

“What is this ‘Steven,’ my Amethyst? He seems to be partially organic.” Her face crinkles slightly as she looks at Steven’s tear-stained face. “And… leaking.” She produces a handkerchief from her gem and swiftly cleans Steven’s face, dropping the handkerchief to the ground with a dainty flick of the wrist. “There, that’s better.”

Okay, Amethyst thinks. It’s still Pearl, somehow.

“Don’t you remember Steven?” Amethyst asks, drawing closer to Pearl. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Remember?” Pearl echoes, sounding confused. “I have no memory, my Amethyst. You created me. I have extensive databanks on gem etiquette, of course, and a working understanding of the systems of economy, conquest, gem production, and anything else you may need me to assist in organizing.” She lifts Steven into the air and turns him over, checking him at all angles. “However, there is no ‘Steven’ in my databanks.”

“He’s half-human,” Amethyst sighs. “He needs a caregiver.”

“It that why you brought me into the world? To care for this ‘Steven’?” Pearl asks, putting Steven back on his feet. Steven is giggling a little from being spun around, clearly a bit dizzy.

“I… yeah.” Amethyst nods. “Take care of Steven. He needs a diaper, and a pacifier, and….” None of this will be in her databanks, she realizes. Shit. “Just keep an eye on him for now. He’s… fragile. Don’t let him run off a cliff or anything. Hold his hand.”

Pearl nods and immediately takes a firm hold of Steven’s left hand. “Yes, my Amethyst. I will ensure the Steven isn’t harmed.”

“That’s- good. Thanks, Pearl,” Amethyst manages. Now that Steven isn’t crying every time she runs off, she can make sure Ruby and Sapphire are safe.

The moment that she takes a step towards them, though, she sees Ruby rise into the air and reform. It’s always strange to see Ruby and Sapphire apart, especially after a discorporation of their fusion.

“Are you alright?” Amethyst asks, running up to hug Ruby. It’s weird to have her arms around a gem who’s shorter than her: even Steven is taller than Amethyst, these days.

“What are you doing??” Ruby shouts, squirming against Amethyst’s grip. Amethyst immediately lets go of her, stepping back.

“Sorry! I was just worried.” She rubs her hand on the back of her neck, embarrassed by her over-reaction. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ruby says, and then salutes. “Where’s my assignment?”

“Your… assignment? You mean Sapphire?” Shit, they’ve ALL lost their memories! Amethyst realizes. What the hell was that thing?

As if summoned by her name, Sapphire emerges from her gem with a soft sigh, shielding her eye against the light of the sun.

“Hey, Sapphire,” Amethyst says with a wave. “Do you remember anything?”

“I don’t,” says Sapphire serenely, and Amethyst’s chest aches. Sometimes it sucks to be right. “But I’m sure that you and I will be good friends.” She reaches out to touch Amethyst’s elbow, and Amethyst damn near starts tearing up. Okay. None of her friends remember her, but… at least Sapphire is friendly. Not that Pearl wasn’t friendly, but…. Yikes. That was a whole other kettle of fish.

“Yeah.” Amethyst pats Sapphire’s hand. “We will be. It’s good to see you.”

“My Sapphire!” Ruby salutes again, this time in Sapphire’s direction. “As my sworn duty and sole purpose, I promise to protect you with my life.”

“I know you will,” Sapphire says. “That’s why I predict you won’t last more than a day.”

“Huh?” Ruby tilts her head to one side.

“What?” Amethyst echoes.

“My Amethyst!” Pearl’s voice echoes. “I’ve found another gem!”

“Oh, shit!” Amethyst takes off running. She forgot to bubble the enemy gem once she’d been discorporated! How could she be so stupid? Her eyes find Pearl and Steven, with Pearl still firmly holding Steven’s hand. In Steven’s other hand is the heart-shaped gem of the stranger.

“Steven! Drop that!” Amethyst yells.

Steven’s eyes go wide and he drops the gem onto the grass. It’s too late, Amethyst can see it starting to glow.

“Get him away from here, Pearl! Go stand with the others,” she commands, trying not to feel like she’s taking advantage of Pearl’s… bonding or whatever the hell happened. Pearl scoops Steven into her arms and runs off to Ruby and Sapphire with admirable speed.

Sure enough, the gem rises into the air and begins to form. It slowly rotates, as if it can’t decide which way to form, but eventually settles point-down. Wasn’t that different from before?

Two arms stretch out of the glow and over Amethyst’s head. She pulls out her whip, grimacing but determined to protect the others as much as she can. Already, she knows it’s hopeless. The gem isn’t even fully formed and she’s already arcing over Amethyst’s head towards the others.

“Look out!” Amethyst yells, and the strange gem latches onto Steven with a distinctly squeaky noise.

“I’m so excited to meet you!” the gem shrieks happily, wrapping her arms around Steven several times.

“A Spinel!” Pearl gasps. “Aren’t you the lucky one, Steven?”

“Sp’nel?” Steven repeats, poking one of the hands that’s latched onto his shoulder. It makes a squeaking sound again, and Steven giggles.

“That’s me!” Suddenly, Spinel is moving again, spinning in front of the group with a wide smile. She looks different, Amethyst realizes. Her hair, her gem, even her eyes are different. “I’m your new best friend!”

“Fwend!!!” Steven babbles, reaching out for her. Spinel immediately goes to his side, booping his nose and then petting his hair with a wide-eyed curiosity.

“You’re so soft!” Spinel says approvingly. “I love it!” She hooks her arm into Steven’s, since his other hand is still held by Pearl, as instructed. She glances around at the other gems. “Hi, everyone! Is this a party or what?”

“What the hell is going on?” Amethyst wonders out loud. Spinel must have also lost her memory, so obviously it was a function of the gem tech scythe she’d brought. Speaking of gem tech…. She turns her eyes back to the spaceship Spinel had arrived on. There are bubbles rising in the bubblegum-coloured liquid, the drill churning as it pumps it into the earth. That’s probably not good.

“Do you wanna go play?” she hears Spinel asking the others.

“Steven is very fragile,” Pearl says. “He needs to hold my hand.”

Okay. Amethyst puts one hand on her chin and tries to think. No memories, no friends, one big weird spacething.

Her eyes drift to Little Homeworld on the horizon. Oh, duh! Bismuth might be able to identify this gem weapon, that’s her specialty. And Peridot can probably figure out the controls of this spaceship.

“Okay, guys!” Amethyst says, turning back to them. Ruby is standing in front of Sapphire, eyeing the other gems suspiciously, but the rest of them turn their attention to Amethyst when she speaks. She walks towards them, tucking her whip away. Spinel doesn’t seem to be violent, although she is currently clinging to Steven like a backpack or an affectionate barnacle. Both of them are grinning. “We’re going to take a trip on the warp. Everybody, follow me! Pearl, can I take Steven?”

“Of course, my Amethyst.” Pearl deftly untangles Spinel’s arms from Steven, ignoring her indignant “hey!”. She carries Steven over, her hands under his arms like she’s carrying a misbehaving cat. Steven looks happy enough to be carried, kicking his legs in the air. Amethyst is too short to carry Steven, so she just takes his hand when Pearl deposits him beside her. She can already tell that he needs a change. Poor boy, it’s been a long day. She’s surprised he isn’t more confused by everything going on, but he must be pretty heavily regressed.

I wonder if it’s related to the rest of them losing their memories? she wonders suddenly, and feels stupid for not realizing it before. Steven never regresses when he’s in the field, why didn’t it occur to her earlier? This must be part of the damage this weird weapon did to him when he was hit.

“Come on guys,” she repeats. Pearl is already beside her, arms behind her back, but the other three haven’t moved, Spinel pouting on the grass where Pearl had left her.

“We’re not goin anywhere with you!” Ruby growls from her position in front of Sapphire.

“We will follow them to the warp,” Sapphire corrects, resting one hand on Ruby’s shoulder. Ruby straightens, her face reddening as she stares at the point of contact between them.

“Uh. Yeah! We’ll follow you to the warp!” she shouts, and starts stomping in their direction, her eyes flickering back to Sapphire to make sure she’s following.

Amethyst feels a smile tug at her lips. Those two haven’t really changed all that much. Spinel runs up and grabs Steven’s other hand, wide eyes blinking up at Amethyst.

“Where are we going? Is there a slide there? Are we gonna play a game?”

Steven nods at Spinel’s questions, his eyes getting bigger and more excited.

“We’re going to meet some friends,” Amethyst explains, and starts leading the group down the hill towards the beach house. This is a weird day, and she seems to have two kids to take care of, but they’re all here. And they can figure this out. Amethyst believes in her friends.

#steven universe agere #su agere #agere writing #fandom agere #agere fanfiction #agere fanfic #my writing #my fics #steven universe

63 notes · View notes

bmichael · 6 years ago

Text

Cold Takes

You need something extra after you drag yourself out of bed at 450am in a polar vortex to go to the gym long before sunrise. So I was honestly delighted this morning to see a new Chuck Klosterman - Bill Simmons podcast posted.

I’ve had an up-and-down relationship to reading and listening to these two. Growing up, I was a sponge for their ideas, then as a more mature person I outright rejected and ridiculed them, and now as we’re all more or less adults I can relate to their thoughts in a probably more considered way.

Simmons was in the news recently because of this WSJ profile of The Ringer and him that mentioned, among other things, that the Ringer makes around $15MM a year on ad and podcast revenue. Now, I saw some sports blogs and twitter users throw this number around as if it were large. And it’s not zero, but it’s not really a large revenue figure for a media network with you’ve got to figure at least 50 staffers (it launched with 43 and has grown) based in LA. He’s a businessman and a business, man (I will retire that phrase now) but it’s definitely still a pretty small business.

So the podcast. I started listening to it as I went through my usual deadlift-squat-rows day -- not super fun but not the worst (squats-focused is the worst) and found it pretty entertaining. I don’t really care about Tony Romo’s announcing one way or the other and I thought they both circled around some pretty un-nuanced ideas re: basketball offenses. (Is the best offense just having James Harden try to score every play or pass -- maybe?! Three pointers and dunks are really good -- whoa, great point!)

There’s one relevant point to this ramble where they’re talking about the different Fyre Festival docs and what being an influencer means. Neither seems to have a strong grasp on the term. Simmons focuses on it qua job or activity, where you get paid to endorse something while Klosterman sees it more as an Aristotelian category. Neither correctly assesses it as a figure in the culture with great-than-zero brand recognition and a role within the capitalist-media complex to generate added revenue for someone or something and not always yourself. Ie, they’re both influencers, but neither seems to consider this.

(This point sort of comes up later tangentially and unnoticed when Klosterman laments his latest book dealing with all these things currently being made into films and documentaries while he got none of the credit...)

At the 1:15 mark Simmons brings up the movie Green Book and its unfair treatment thus far. Now, in the last podcast with Wesley Morris, Simmons talks about how he likes Green Book and thinks the movie works just fine while simultaneously reading the wikipedia page for the concept of the magic negro (really, he does this). He’s coming from a place of really liking the movie and attributing to it (or to his enjoyment of the movie, maybe more precisely) a nobody-believes-in-us type of moral gumption and gravity.

My reading of Simmons in the last two podcasts is that the movie’s embattled status as controversial and under fire by parts of the media pisses him off slightly and makes him want to see it succeed. In this equation, Green Book is the 2019 Patriots and Simmons treats it accordingly.

So Simmons says to Klosterman (almost a direct quote, but I don’t have time to go back and re-listen. It’s at 1:15:30-ish)

unless you satisfy all these different demographics, a piece of art will be rejected

He doesn’t clarify what “different demographics” he means, but I’m taking him to mean black people, primarily. He perhaps also means young people and/or woke twitter warriors. Simmons continues, saying that he thinks art “should make you think”.

By itself, I found this point uproariously out of touch and wrong, but Simmons kind of continues to sort of tease this point out with Klosterman. I’m saying “continues to sort of tease” not because I write in a folksy, casual style but because he really doesn’t seem to have an argument or single point of view in mind, and this is what I found so fascinating by this part of the podcast.

(Klosterman, for his part, doesn’t really say much about Simmons’ comments except that he grew up in a different era and understands he has a POV or prejudices implicitly that he cannot control.)

So a little later, Simmons brings up the movie Cruising, which I have not seen, but he says is very good. Apparently, its a “ 1980 erotic crime thriller film written and directed by William Friedkin and starring Al Pacino” about a serial killer targeting gay men. Simmons brings this movie up to make the point that people are much more easily mobilized these days (so insightful...) and to say, further, that if the movie were released today it would have been boycotted heavily and possibly not released.

I find this to be a laughable take, but he goes on to say something very revealing in response to something Klosterman says. Chuck says that if Cruising were made in 2019, maybe it would be made by a gay director and/or have a gay star. And Simmons is like, oh so they’d anticipate these issues and get out in front of the controversy.

This was so revealing to me because it snaps into focus a few different domains Simmons occupies and shows he almost ‘code switches’ his thought process, unconsciously, depending on whatever ghost of a coherent thought happens to be haunting his mind in a given moment.

This is clearly Simmons the producer and media mogul. He wants to get this movie, Crusing, made in 2019. Logistically, he knows certain demographics will boycott the film and maybe prevent it from being released.

(By the way, there have been some movies prevented from being released, generally on the basis of a moral panic, but the most recent one I can think of is the Woody Allen Louis CK one which, who the fuck would want to see that anyway? I’m sure it would ‘make you think’... that CK and Allen are pieces of shit.)

This is not really a great place to come from as a critic or even person who runs the Ringer media empire. Speaking to the latter, obviously the Ringer is a vehicle to make money for its owners, but it does seem to have a more coherent, somewhat woke new media 3.0 purpose that’s not 100% cynical in the vein of, ‘hey cast a gay actor for this homophobic film so that it won’t get boycotted’. For the former, sure it would be something you’d note and maybe write about, but would it really ‘make you think’? It would make me think that the movie was a cynical piece of shit floating in the homophobic toilet bowl of American culture.

Drawing back even further, it just goes to show me at least that the majority of influencers in this apparently lamentable influencer culture still don’t really consider themselves influencers. The sort of way saying someone’s a “white male” is kind of offensive because it creates this contre-pied cognitive step where a white man actually has to identify as a subgroup of humanity and not the default setting, as it were, and realize that he has discursive and political motivations that aren’t just ‘natural law’ or something and are generally around to further his demographic’s self-interests.

Simmons constantly spouts this backward, establishment-protecting bullshit when it comes to entertainment - and with regard to everything else. The one arguably moral stand he took, to badmouth Roger Goodell on his ESPN podcast, had the effect of making him more famous and gave his flagging outsider status a little more life, allowing him to pivot to the Ringer. He and his site still slavishly cover football, despite making jokes (I guess?) about CTE and concussions.

There is not a large conclusion to all this except to get my thoughts out there. Like, I don’t think Simmons is evil or anything, but he’s totally unaware of his biases -- the same as anyone, I know.

It just galls me that I think he thinks he’s this establishment-wrecking poster boy for new media when he’s just the same old self-congratulatory, now-middle-aged white guy holding back progress in the name of art or a sophisticated critical view when it’s really about the bottom line and protecting conservative values.

#bill simmons #chuck klosterman

13 notes · View notes

theepitomeofamess · 7 years ago

Text

It Takes Two pt. 7

It’s long, it’s messy, it took forever, it’s a roller coaster, it’s the best y’all are gonna get for now. apologies.

high school au, theater au, Logince, Moxiety, 3445 words, warning: light abuse (i think, not sure how to word it)

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Nobody really went home on opening night. Most of the cast and crew stayed on campus or at restaurants around the school. They were all doing homework or working lines and songs one last time before doing the real performance. Roman, Logan, Patton, and Virgil were no exception. Sitting in a circle under one of the larger trees in the courtyard, a bag of Five Guys fries sat in the center of the four of them. Patton leaned back on his hands, legs crossed in front of him to act as a pillow for Virgil’s head. Roman had his back against the trunk of the tree, arm resting on his knee with the other leg outstretched. Logan sat at Virgil’s feet, arms around his knees to curl himself into a loose ball. The book he’d been trying to read now sat at his side, his place bookmarked by a clover he’d picked.

At some point in the middle of talking and laughing and watching clouds, they started doing homework only for Roman to realize he’d forgotten his math textbook in the classroom. Patton started trying to comfort him, telling him that it wasn’t a big deal, but he didn’t have to for long. Within seconds, Logan had gone into his bag and pulled out a ring jingling with what looked like a hundred keys, all painted different colors to form a perfect rainbow gradient. He pulled two from their places in the ring, one with a tiny “courtyard door” printed on it, and the other with the number of the classroom Roman needed to go to. Handing the keys to Roman, Logan told him to walk with purpose and be back quickly. Patton and Roman both stared at Logan, mouths agape with questions as to how, when, what, and why. Virgil didn’t seem phased, only chuckling at the confusion from the other two.

“What,” Roman tried to ask, “how-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Logan ordered. “Just move quickly and don’t get stopped. It’s fine.” Roman didn’t want to go without an explanation, but he did. He knew that Logan wouldn’t explain anything he didn’t want to.

“What,” Virgil asked before Roman could leave, “you guys don’t have your own set of keys?” Reaching in his bag, he pulled out a matching ring of keys. Roman shook his head, smirking as Virgil and Logan shared a chuckle and Patton tried to remember how to form words.

Needless to say the keys worked flawlessly.

When call time came around, the four went their separate ways. Patton ran up and down the aisles of the house, across the stage, between dressing rooms and the booth trying to fix last minute issues. Virgil stayed in the booth until he had to help Patton with microphones, then ended up changing a lightbulb despite the way he shook at the top of the ladder, then somehow ended up running around trying to help find misplaced props and set up refreshments in the commons. Every time someone passed him, they heard him muttering something about “can’t trust anyone, want something done right gotta do it yourself.” Roman and Logan both ended up in the dressing room, changing and laughing and taking and avoiding selfies respectively, at the beck and call of Patton’s restrained frustration and Virgil’s unbridled, panicked fury. The two of them seemed to be mirror images of Thomas and Joan, who were doing a sound check, standing at the back of the house and close enough together that Joan could draw stability from Thomas’ wall of forced calm.

“Hey,” Patton called into the dressing room, bangs already sweaty and starting to hang limp over his glasses. “Thomas is getting ready to do the prayer circle for whoever wants to join. Center stage, kiddos.” A few people immediately moved to follow Patton to the stage, including Roman, who was explaining the tradition to Logan. Logan had never been part of it as the pianist, he’d never been there at the right time.

About half of the cast and crew was gathered in a circle, all holding hands. Thomas giggled at something one of the cast had said. Roman positioned himself and Logan next to Patton and Virgil so Logan was squished between Roman and Virgil. He frowned at Virgil’s presence, knowing how he identified as agnostic, but allowed himself to relax when he remembered that he was probably only there for Patton.

The same question must have been going through Virgil’s mind when he gripped Logan’s hand, as his eyes flicked from him to Roman and back again. His slight frown curled into a smirk, and his eyebrow quirked knowingly.

Both of them bowed their heads out of respect when Thomas called for silence, but neither of them focused on what he was saying. Virgil was making a mental list of things he needed to triple check when he got back up to the booth.

Logan was analyzing the two hands he was holding.

Virgil’s hand was wrapped around Logan’s, palm facing down and thumb around Logan’s fingers. His grip was loose, his long, thin fingers cold like Logan’s. The two of them had held hands like this before, always in the same position if Logan remembered correctly, which he usually did. He remembered reading about types of hand holding and their meanings somewhere on a late night Google bender. The way Virgil held his hand indicated protectiveness, dominance. That made sense for Virgil.

Roman’s, first of all, was so much warmer than Virgil’s or Logan’s. Of course, it’s Roman. He radiates more warmth than the sun itself. His hand is thicker than Logan’s, his skin softer. His fingers are interlocked with Logan’s, pulling their bodies closer together by default. Logan remembered reading that this positioning is more common in more intimate couples, those that have surpassed physical attraction, care for one another immensely, and feel comfortable being vulnerable and honest with one another.

Logan’s heart skipped a beat when he felt Roman’s grip tighten. He wasn’t sure how true that last part was…

Thomas finished, and the circle broke, its pieces redispersing themselves throughout the theater for last minute adjustments. Virgil and Patton exchanged a peck before going their separate ways. Logan tried to follow their lead, moving to get his microphone, but Roman kept his grip, planted like a tree to hold the two of them in place. He smiled at Logan’s confused expression. Leaning in, Roman planted a peck on Logan’s cheek, pink seeming to blossom from the spot as Logan blushed.

“Break a leg,” Roman muttered. He was about to go back to the dressing rooms when Logan surged up, kissing Roman’s cheek in return.

“Same to you.” Logan instantly missed the warmth Roman’s hand provided when he started toward the apron to get his mic from Patton, his heart fluttering at the feeling of Roman’s finger reaching after him, the slight snap when their hooked index fingers finally separated.

It seemed like no time at all after that before Logan stepped into the spotlight on stage and mused “Once upon a time…”

The show wasn’t perfect. No show is ever perfect. In spite of that, it went off more smoothly than any of them expected. The tail that kept falling off of Milky White didn’t come off, but her leg did after the Witch resurrected her to make the potion and Jack hugged her a bit too harshly, leading to a long silence on stage and laughter from the audience. The silence was only broken when Roman improvised the line, “Be careful, she is undead, after all,” and reattached the leg as best he could. A little boy started crying when Virgil started punching a filing cabinet in the sound booth, creating the sound of the giant stomping closer - an innovation that Joan was still very proud of. He had to be taken out because he was scared of the sound; it reminded him too much of thunder. Patton had to chew out Remy for falling asleep backstage and nearly missing his cue. He didn’t raise his voice at all, but when he caught Remy backstage after the fact, he grabbed him by the collar, grinning widely, and hissed something through his teeth that made Remy’s eyes blow wide and go paler than the starched white of his costume. Needless to say, Remy ended up being too scared to fall asleep after that.

Before they knew what happened, Roman and Logan were lined up with the other actors, bowing to the audience and pointing out the crew and accompanist. It felt like no time at all had gone by, and yet it was over.

Going out to meet family before getting notes from Joan and Thomas, Roman was greeted by his parents with a bouquet of roses and ecstatic praise. Sloane had Virgil and Patton each under an arm, and Corbin stood to the side with a proud hand on Logan’s shoulder and a beaming smile. Sloane and Patton were both giggling. Virgil was trying to hide a blush rising in his cheeks, and Corbin and Logan were wearing the same content smile. They really looked like a family. Roman couldn’t help but smile.

Roman’s parents left, knowing that Roman had his car with him and would probably be a while, taking the bouquet so Roman wouldn’t have to keep track of it. Joining the others, Sloane immediately asked for a picture of the four of them together. Roman and Patton got on the ends, Patton squishing himself up against Virgil and Roman putting a strong arm around Logan’s shoulders. Virgil locked arms with Logan, who kept his hands firmly shoved in his pockets. He tried to keep his smile small, but stuck in the middle of Patton’s giggling, Virgil’s quiet affection, and Roman’s cheek nestled in his hair, he couldn’t help the grin that broke across his face.

Sloane and Corbin left when the boys were called away to get their notes. Joan and Thomas tried to be brief, only calling out a few people for missed cues and forgotten lines, and praising others for improvisations and particularly good jobs done on songs or scenes. Thomas especially praised Cinderella, who finally didn’t trip over herself in “On The Steps of the Palace.” They cleaned up and reset everything for the next performance. With everything cleaned up, everybody was free to go.

The boys were some of the last ones to leave, having stayed behind to finish a few things and talk to Joan and Thomas. When they were finally on their way out, Roman was trying to persuade Patton to tell him what he’d told Remy to make him so scared. Virgil giggled as Patton refused time and again, claiming that he didn’t even remember what exactly he’d said. He seemed a bit worried, wondering out loud if Remy had really looked that bad, but Virgil assured him that it wasn’t that bad and that Remy would get over it.

“But if he was really that scared, then maybe I should apologize.”

“He’ll be fine. You got your point across, and he’ll forget about it in a week.”

“Virge’s got a point,” Roman pointed out. “Remy’s got the memory of a goldfish. Actually, I shouldn’t say that. Goldfish actually have pretty good memory, right, Lo? What’s a better analogy?” Roman turned to look for Logan’s answer to find him frozen. “Lo?” Turning his eyes where Logan’s were fixed, Roman found a couple watching them. They were both wearing black suits, the man talking on the phone and the woman with her arms folded across her chest. Behind him, Roman could hear Virgil whispering frantically to Patton, asking what the hell they’re doing there, how they knew he’d be there.

Black eyes locked on Logan, she curled her slender finger at him.

“E- Ex-” Logan struggled, his voice mechanical. “Ex- excuse me.” He started away, flinching back when Roman caught his wrist.

“Logan, you-”

“I’ll meet up with you guys later. Just… j-just go.” His words were too fast, his voice too steady. He was marching toward the couple before Roman could get anything out of him, even a chance to look him in the eye. Watching as he went, Roman’s stomach turned. He looked like a soldier; too straight, too steady. Anybody else, and the rock-solid hands wouldn’t have meant anything.

Logan isn’t steady, though, as much as he tries to convince people otherwise. He doesn’t have steady hands. He’s constantly radiating energy, practically vibrating with passion and ideas. When he gets the chance to get really into one of his interests, he can’t stay still, can’t stop talking, usually ends up bouncing where he’s standing. Sure, he tries to play himself off as stable, steady as a mountain, but he’s constantly buzzing with life.

“Why don’t I go with,” Roman put on his usual chipper smile, jogging up and interlocking his fingers with Logan’s. “I’d like to meet your parents.” Logan swallowed hard at the suggestion, obviously wanting to protest, but something in him unable to. He slipped his fingers from Roman’s, continuing towards his parents. Roman shoved his hand in his jacket pocket. He could still just barely hear Virgil panicking to Patton, but he didn’t care. He could feel Logan by his side, though it didn’t feel like Logan. He was too stiff, too cold.

Too much like the people they stopped in front of.

Standing in front of these people, back straighter than a ruler and hands completely still in loose fists, he looked like all of that life had been sucked out of him in an instant.

“Who is this,” the woman asked, not even trying to mask her disgusted sneer.

“Roman Prince, ma’am. Friend of Logan’s. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” Roman held out his hand to either of them, but both of them only looked from it to him, lips curled as though his had were infected with leprosy. He didn’t allow it to drop until they were talking again.

“So we get home,” the woman turned her head to focus on Logan, who was staring at something beyond her, “and we find an empty kitchen, the house in the state that a mediocre, underpaid maid would keep it, and all because you decided to frolick like an overgrown child, practicing the overrated art of professional make believe? Care to explain?”

“You didn’t leave me any-”

“Silence.” Logan obeyed his mother all too easily. Roman almost didn’t recognize him.

“Excuse me, but-”

“Sorry, Romano, was it?” The man finally spoke up, slipping his phone in his pocket. His voice didn’t hold the same venom as his wife’s, much more flat than anything else. “We’re trying to have a conversation with our son. It’s a private affair. Go on, leave. He’s with family now.” Roman bit his tongue to keep from talking back, the manners drilled into his head keeping him from speaking his mind to his elders right off the bat.

“I can walk away, but only when Logan says that he’s comfortable enough for me to. Besides, I have his stuff in my car. He can’t leave without it.” Locking eyes with Logan’s mother, Roman found them to be the same shade of darkness as Logan’s, but completely different. Whereas Logan’s were individual galaxies glittering with billions of stars, hers were completely dead, calculating in a terrifyingly primal way. She was a shark; no emotion, only the hunt, ready to kill anything that stepped into her territory and either got too close or smelled too good to pass up.

The lack of anything behind her eyes kind of killed the hope that Roman had of setting her soul on fire with his mind - she obviously didn’t have one to set fire to.

A brush of knuckles against the back of his hand caught his attention. Roman’s gaze softened when he looked to Logan, but Logan was still staring at something far beyond their own realm of reality. He just barely nodded, silently telling Roman to walk away.

Roman obeyed, glaring at the couple before turning his back. He stopped at a pillar halfway between Logan and where Patton and Virgil waited. He watched as closely as he could, trying to make out what that woman was hissing to Logan, but she’d turned them so that he couldn’t see anything but their backs. He could see Logan’s face, though. All of the pain, the fear that froze him in place, that turned him to a statue as though he were facing a gorgon - which, Roman thought, he very well may be.

It felt like forever that they were talking. At some point Virgil and Patton joined him at the pillar, watching and listening. All of them were poised to make a run for Logan if they needed to. All of them had their protective instincts dialled to eleven.

“Speak up, Logan. You know how I hate the mumbling. What do you say?” Logan started muttering something through his teeth, only to get cut off.

The smack echoed through the atrium, the weight of it crushing the three that had been so ready to his defense. They were so stunned that they couldn’t bring their legs to move as they watched Logan’s mother dig her fingers into his face, picking him up from where he’d stumbled back against the force of her palm against his face. She seemed to have completely forgotten that the world was watching.

“Speak up!”

“Thank you,” Logan’s voice sounded like glass about to shatter, “for bringing me back to my senses.”

“No no no no no,” Virgil kept growling the single word as he crossed the atrium, the first to break out of his stunned trance and put himself between Logan and his mother. He stood directly in front of Logan, shifting his arms to cover Logan’s sides protectively. Patton and Roman weren’t far behind, each positioning themself in front of one of the parents. Roman stood in front of the mother, Patton the father. Neither of them were going to move. The line had been drawn.

“Children, this doesn’t concern you,” the woman tried to reason. Roman suddenly realized that her figure and poise had a strong resemblance to a younger, not quite as skeletal, Yzma.

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Patton spat.

“This is a family matter-”

“Biology doesn’t make you family.” Virgil’s voice sent the air around him shaking like the aftershock of an earthquake. “You treat him like this, you’re nothing more than a sperm donor and an incubator. You’re a biological inconvenience, the scum of the earth, not family.”

“Just leave,” Roman ordered. “Leave and don’t come back. From what I understand, you’re good at that.” The man locked his jaw, clenching his fists.

“And he’s not,” the woman asked, gesturing to Logan, still horrifyingly calm. “He hasn’t been home in days.” Behind him, Virgil felt Logan’s head bow, shame weighing heavily on his shoulders. There was no point in talking, he knew that.

“There’s a difference between trying to leave a bad situation and abandonment. Luckily, I’m very good at the former.” Virgil turned his back, leading Logan away. Patton and Roman didn’t have to be urged to follow once they saw the older couple beginning to back off. Both of them watched intently as Virgil put an arm around Logan, silently suggesting that he lean on him. Logan didn’t allow himself to give up any control of his weight, though. He stood as straight as a soldier, marching solemnly next to Virgil. Worry radiated from Virgil like a dark storm cloud. He whispered something to Logan, and Roman saw Logan’s jaw lock as he took a deep breath. Too controlled. A tempest was raging inside him, and he couldn’t - he wouldn’t set it free.

“The bottle’s gonna break,” Patton muttered, watching the two of them as intently as Roman. “Sooner or later, it’s going to shatter. We’d all better be ready to brave the storm when it does, even if he tries to force us to run.” Roman felt Patton turn to watch him, to read his features. He didn’t return the gesture. On any other occasion, he might have smiled.

“You and me,” he mused, watching the pair in front of them that sang of rolling thunder and howling wind, “we’re storm chasers. They’re gonna have to do a hell of a lot to make us run.” A slight smile flickered across Patton’s lips. He always smiled at the truth.

Roman didn’t smile the rest of that night. He couldn’t. Not the way his insides were burning, aching to put a blade through that woman.

Tag List:

@individual-charlie @ab-artist @fandoms-n-ship @iamtrashcans @jazzyb11 @lucifer-in-my-head @romanssippycup @pendragonqueen09 @margarethx @angst-patton @nienna14 @mirror2thespirit @smokeyrutilequartz

64 notes · View notes

webpostingpro-blog · 8 years ago

Text

New Post has been published on Webpostingpro

New Post has been published on https://webpostingpro.com/now-you-can-easily-save-web-articles-to-your-kindle-on-ios/

Now you can easily save web articles to your Kindle on iOS

Customers of Amazon’s iOS Kindle app can now ship documents, internet pages, and different content considered on Safari to their Kindle devices to be studied later. The brand new feature comes as part of the iOS app’s cutting-edge update, that’s to be had now on iPhone and iPad. Web sites and files are converted to Kindle format while despatched from Safari, permitting Customers to mess around with font size, web page coloration, and other options.log into my amazon account

The replace additionally brings ComiXology’s Guided View characteristic to iOS, presenting a naturalistic way to study comics that hops from panel to panel in the same manner our eyes do with actual comic books. It’s been a long time coming — the feature’s been to be had on Kindle for the reason that 2014 — however it ought to make analyzing comics on smaller monitors simpler.

My kindle account

Solid Tips On Network Marketing That Anyone Can Easily Understand

Is there a blueprint you may follow to be a success community marketer? This is what the general public are looking for. They want community advertising to be smooth without installing their percentage of due diligence, on the way to earn the fulfillment. Here are some hints you can follow to present you an extraordinary point from which to start.

Fundamentally, network advertising is an extension of traditional networking with human beings in that it seeks to join people based totally on spoken phrase marketing. It is both time and cost-effective in that human beings can select merchandise and/or services and without delay percentage and broadcast them with buddies, family, clients, and clients.

Exercise your advertising spiel in the front of a replicate.

Do you appearance frightened? Do you sound like you’re lying? If what you are pronouncing is true, you ought to experience relaxed. If there is something that makes you appearance less than sincere when you say it, then do not say that! Persist with the things that make you happy with your enterprise.

You can make a few compromises whilst running your commercial enterprise. In preference to taking that Sunday off to look at football, it is likely a higher idea in case you learn some new suggestions and processes to help you be triumphant within the market. There are worse things you could do together with your time than to learn more.

People are going to need a reason to consider you as a community marketer,

And It’s miles up to you and also you by myself to give them this cause. if you can’t think of a purpose why a person ought to agree with you with their funding, then perhaps you ought to discover something else to do except marketing.

In case you make people who sign on on your downline in network advertising and marketing to sense like they’re turning into part of an inner circle, they may be extra motivated. The maximum essential thing to do is Maintain them feeling like they’ve unique get entry to each to you and your advertising strategies. Deliver them the equipment they want to make you both terrific earnings!

Realize what your desires are. a successful business is made due to the fact the proprietor is continuously thinking about their company. They see that community advertising and marketing is a business builder and something that wishes to be carried out all the time. Make sure you’re doing the whole lot that you may in order that your desires can be reached successfully.

To be extra green while network advertising, you may get a number of an assist by searching online.

There are many boards which have super guidelines that you can be the use of. Spend approximately half-hour every day studying those and finding recommendation which you locate usefully. Also, Ensure to speak up at the forums and ask a variety of questions.

Having a starting point in marketing is important to your success. if you start out via learning what you can about advertising, earlier than you try to push a product, you are giving yourself a much better hazard to prevail. Consciousness on what you just discovered in this newsletter and also you need to do simply exceptional inside the market.

Kindle Publishing Guidelines: Preparing Text-Heavy Books

The time period “reflowable” refers to e-books which can be textual content-heavy. Essentially, the content material of reflowable e-books “reflow” when the customers exchange the text settings. Creating a reflowable Is straightforward if the textual content and snapshots are separate. Manifestly, isolating the textual content from the photos of a picture-heavy ebook (e.G. Manga) is extremely tough.

Right here are the things to keep in mind while publishing a reflowable

· Do not use absolute positioning to align the textual content.

· Make sure that the textual content is ready in unmarried columns.

· Via default, Kindle tags eBooks as “reflowable”. Which means you Don’t need to do any complicated trick to post a reflowable e-book.

· Avoid immoderate styling while getting ready the ebook’s frame. Creativity is high-quality whilst used at the book’s footnotes, headings, TOC, and so on. However, preserve the ebook’s text as simple as possible to make sure fantastic legibility and studying enjoy.

· Never set entire chapters in italic or boldface. Those font settings are not ideal for Kindle e-books.

· Use the default line peak and font size for Kindle ebooks while suitable. Don’t use CSS attributes.

· Some Kindle customers change the background coloration of the e-books they’re studying. Therefore, do now not use font hues which can be too darkish or too mild. Those hues may additionally reason contrast-related issues whilst viewed on Kindle apps and devices.

· Do not use a white or black background in your text. Those colors wreck the reading enjoy of your customers when they transfer the tool heritage to any other coloration.

· Don’t use pressured typefaces to your e-books. If you will ignore this rule,

Your readers won’t be able to select their preferred font for studying Kindle e-e-books.

· In case you are the usage of KindleGen, the primary line of every paragraph may be indented mechanically. You can fix this By means of adjusting the book’s

· Use the margin-backside style and/or margin-top fashion in your ebook’s

Tag to regulate the spacing earlier than and/or after each paragraph. It would be first-class to use ems because of the units of dimension. · The Kindle platform units a default typeface for e-e-books that don’t have one. Additionally, Kindle is like minded with monospaced typefaces. Be aware that Kindle uses a monospaced typeface for the contents of positive HTML tags (e.G. And many others.). You could provide unique typefaces to your e-books. Amazon will check whether your chosen typefaces are correct for the customers’ analyzing experience. · Do not use constant values (e.G. Pixels) when setting your e book’s CSS properties (e.G. Padding, line-top, textual content-indent, etc.). Use ems to Ensure that your text will appearance satisfactory on distinct resolutions and screen sizes.

· Use chances whilst specifying the padding and/or margin houses of the book. This way, the stated homes may not grow too big when the readers select a huge font.

· Prevent content material overlaps Through placing margins at zero or higher.

· Use relative gadgets or probabilities whilst putting the drop caps of your book. Ensure that the apex of every drop cap is aligned along with your book’s text.

Managing Customer Privacy With iBeacon & The New IOS Swift Codes

The iBeacon transmissions enable the receiver to perceive Th built integrated they’re near and estimate the space. Consequently, build integrated cannot be accumulated without permission. It has easy protocols that carry out direct integrated and are not tools for built-in, however for integrated an efficient and personalised purchasbuiltintegrated revel built integrated.

Two-way iBeacon Conversation with Quick Programme built-ing

IBeacon can transmit built-data to every other beacon device built-inwit built integrated proximity of as much as 20m. With easy Fast codes, by turn integrate dg on the Bluetooth, simple messages can be transmitted to the receiver tool. A UIViewController code built-in enables advent of the Beacon, which is broadcasted by means of UUID and most important and built-in numbers and CoreBluetooth and CoreLocation libraries. With the IBAction characteristic, the transmit button is set up. The viewController handles the iBeacon’s detection and the consumer can than deter built integrated whether to view the beacon message.

The Beacon ought to be started once the area is entered, for this, the didStartMonitorintegratedgForRegion and didEnterRegion methods are implemented. once the advert is displayed, if the customer built-unearths it to be irrelevant, they can delete it and unsubscribe from similarly integrated notifications. Accordbuiltintegrated, the customer built-in manage over what ad is displayed and whether to send reputation updates or now not.

Beacon Security

Beacons are built-binarily integrated low power and might most effective transmit a series integrated of numbers, and no monitoring integrated, content or commercials may be pushed. built-inCaution messages are all apps that use beacon generation. So, without user consent, the built-in will now not be shared.

With the brand new Quick codes on iPhone devices, the Bluetooth MAC deal with of the iPhone does no longer get exposed to iBeacon identifier records. As a consequence integrated, without compromisintegratedg on the listen integrate dog device’s privateness, the beacon can push classified ads. Also, for safety from unauthorized beacon announces, it will become vital not to trade identifiers.

A few measures for safety built-integrated unauthorized get admission to

Use credentials and passwords to make the discovery and reference to beacon difficult.

Use undetectable, complicated passwords to keep away from the beacon be integrated deployed built-in unauthorised vendor Use of an encrypted channel with at ease easy pair integrated with a relaxed password

Usbuiltintegrated Protection notifications and normal firmware updates Location the beacon built-in bodily comfortable built-in to save you theft and tamper built-ing

Apple has built-in a host of new tool Safety capabilities with the built-in iOS 9 update

And with iOS Speedy development; the code Security is also improved. IOS Quick is comfortable, very fast and built integrated green language for mobile app bundled with powerful capabilities, for built-in integrated iOS cell Apps and iBeacon Apps.

So, clients want no longer be worried approximately a Security breach via iBeacon applications and revel built integrated its much benefits integrated.

0 notes

criticalsuperbeast-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Who is Benita Whyte? Who am I?

Benita Whyte’s Video Fish at Casino Artspace, Hamilton, ON.

By Aimee Burnett

Image courtesy of the Artist.

A prime qualifier for a guilty pleasure in the times we live in might be something like a page you wouldn’t open on your browser in a “cool” cafe, if the likelihood of over-the-shoulder visibility were assessed as probable. Set within the current mood of hyperactive identity politics, every visible transaction (social or commercial) is a chance to affirm who we are and/or aren’t. Some of our dearest browser friends are also our most embarrassing; personal brand liabilities to be denied publicly whenever within eye-shot of those in the socio-cultural bracket to which we belong or aspire. Who are these ‘like-minded’ individuals and community members we self-police for, erecting and posturing our public selves in the likeness of? We invite the judgement of those we designate favorably alike, to reaffirm publicly the personas we cultivate. From even the unknown co-occupant in a see-and-be-seen situation, we seek (at best) tacit approval of our co-occupancy, and (at least) to seem like an appropriate constituent of their identity-enacting public patronage practices. If this transaction goes well (meaning we have both appropriately judged our belonging-ness in whatever space we both currently exist) neither party has to confront an identi-quake* or inquisition into their carefully-curated, capital B “brand” of cultural capital. We are our own PR managers and agents of representation, and the stratagem employed depends on the ability to anticipate the rules of the game around our own perception. Stakes run high. Within the brief moments during which judgement passes, who we are and what we stand for is assessed and understood with or without permission granted. The surest route to the reading we hope to author is a well-oiled, vertical sequence of signifiers. We dress, act, and create like we belong so that when others rapidly consume our image, we do. Full circle.

*when one’s identity is deeply shaken causing them to ask themselves a series of questions about who they really are or how people really perceive them causing one to lose confidence and assurance in how they present.

Perhaps this is less a shared truism about modern living and community-building than an unflattering, unsolicited personal outing. Reconciling the critical consumer I self-identify as with the ideological shortcomings of my consumptive habits, is more a step-trip shuffle than anything more imaginably elegant. With my identity politic anxieties often engaged, the opening of Benita Whyte’s show Video Fish, was a moment of consecration. Being on the receiving end of the vulnerability she infuses her work with felt consoling and pleasurable, like a friend rubbing aloe on sensitive sunburns that are my own misgivings about who I might be. Yet it also made me uncomfortable. She may be the one exposing herself, offering companionship, but she is also implicating her viewer’s guilty pleasures.

Video Fish is sort of like reading a tabloid or a tell-all. You imagine yourself better, more refined even, than salacious ‘trash’ culture, but you find yourself flipping through it the minute no one is watching, not fully ready to admit your own embarrassment about how eager you were to do so. Not to say that Whyte’s work is of the same genre, but rather that her subjects share the tacky, hypnotic allure of pop/mainstream culture. In the gallery, the lights are turned off. The artist has designated items for our sight through the positioning of LED lights, projections, televisions, and digital picture frames. The celestial video on the entry wall, is one of many renditions to come of artist as angel. The version of the artist shown here is in full saturation; a larger-than-life pink glamazon strategically tapping nerve meridians in order that she might more successfully attract love. Personal betterment, identity performance through costume and affectation, heavenly symbolism, and literal overexposure of the artist herself, have iterations in multiple media throughout the show. These themes set the units of Video Fish (a title referring to convincing performances of hyperfemininity in drag culture) in sync. Her performances are less literal than allegorical. Each piece offers a new persona and possibility for who we are, or can be, as contemporary “women.” It’s hard not to talk about Whyte as a Cindy Sherman of an internet age. Sherman’s practice dealt with a cast of characters to regurgitate stories about who women are, what spaces their bodies may inhabit, and the possible storylines of who they can become and what they can dream. Whyte’s own cast of characters and possibilities reflect a moment where authorship of personal identities and stories is done through media platforms that anyone with WiFi can access. The limit of one’s impact is the quantifiable size of one’s audience. Internalized oppression now derives less from top-down storytelling, than from a flatter, more aggressively ubiquitous model in which everyone is trying to prove their validity, striving towards mass appeal for the stories they tell.

Appropriating “femininity” as a woman is complicated, the irony being that parody often comes closer to the mark than most female-identifying individuals ever do in their day-to-day. Whyte’s body of work often renders high-resolution advertisements-- the most powerful and expensive images created and circulated in our culture-- in crude, pixelated low fidelity. High-resolution images often convincingly create a world in which we suspend our disbelief, but her lo-fi renderings short circuit our unquestioning consumption. The aberrant similarities in Whyte’s imagery don’t allow us the same assumptions their hi-fi counterparts do. We are forced to rethink how to engage with them because we can’t dismiss them. This is a result of an inability to trust in their message because they are not of the slick style that panels cityscapes, their familiarity allowing for quick consumption. The ways in which these pop culture images are distorted highlight humanity through the errors in their construction. In a climate of extreme bio-politics via popular representation, it is plain that some bodies are designated more valuable than others; Whyte’s work describes a world where a body can depict almost any body.

Benita Whyte’s own body refracts a contradictory reading. Her default colour scheme is hot pink on hot pink. Her hair is platinum but her roots are dark and grown out. I have known her to be taken for many ethnicities: generally “Asian,” Philippino, Spanish, Guyanese, and eastern European. One might assume she identifies as a woman of colour or just as possibly, white. Her studio has images of women like Anna Nicole Smith taped up on the walls along with gendered packaging for pantyhose. The ironies of the feminine ideal are always on view, and in the midst of an extra-heated political moment for historically marginalized bodies, her persona and her work are a meeting place for these hot discussions to take place with incredible complexity. She incites a multiplicity of readings in which almost every feminine archetype has a stake.

We are all affirming, reaffirming, and re-reaffirming our identities publicly almost constantly. We judge others, judge ourselves against others, and ask others to judge us in the hopes of garnering their approval (again, maybe I am unflatteringly alone on this premise). At some event like an art opening, where we are on the scene with those who recognize us as part of it and allow us to belong, displaying our identity at full mast to be seen or photographed, we affirm who we are. In such a circumstance, what does it mean to consume vulnerability, voluntarily on display, collectively? What then, when the art on view refuses to allow us to be a confident passive viewer? We walked in emboldened by our hard-won membership in this social space and now we are put in a submissive role, because we identify with the vulnerabilities on display. We felt so sure we were there to judge the work of the artist, and the artist themselves on the basis of their work. Suddenly we are implicated. Benita Whyte offers us the confusing paradox of performances of the private self in public. We can’t be sure we are witnessing autobiographical truisms, but we also can’t help but breathe a uncomfortable (but secret!) sigh of relief, as we see a reflection of the un-slick, horizontal, and conflicting version of who we know we are behind our policed, and polished public image.

Aimee Burnett is the founder of, and Bespoke shoemaker at Pedlar Stock, a small makers brand. Pedlar Stock is based out of Casino Artspace in Hamilton Ontario. Casino, of which Burnett is a founder and member, is a curated events venue, project space, and workshop that hosts 16 individual creatives.

#criticalsuperbeast #hamont #artcriticism #aimeeburnett #casinoartspace #casino #mediaart #performance #identity #gender #theinternet #benitawhyte