anothersilentobserver

[anothersilentobserver]

Democracy

by Langston Hughes

Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear.

I have as much right As the other fellow has To stand On my two feet And own the land.

I tire so of hearing people say, Let things take their course. Tomorrow is another day. I do not need my freedom when I’m dead. I cannot live on tomorrow’s bread.

Freedom Is a strong seed Planted In a great need.

I live here, too. I want freedom Just as you.

[anothersilentobserver]

some Masquerade costumes

This came into my inbox via the ALW marketing machine today.

Interesting.

Am still wondering whether to pay insane ticket prices and blow my carbon budget by flying over for a few days. More local Phans intending to go, please spill the beans.

(though "Sir Webber"... Really? Editor asleep on the job?)

[anothersilentobserver]

Cannot wait!

Soon.

New listener? Catch up now…before the Clown comes back to bite.

[anothersilentobserver]

An elegant couple entering a box at the Paris Opera - Jean-Georges Béraud (1907)

[anothersilentobserver]

Archeosky was having fun with this

[anothersilentobserver]

crying with laughter.

@lordjazor still manages to sound seductive. And hit that B!

Did you think that I had left you for good…? Sorry, been quite busy. But since I’ve scrolled through my asks and found this…

I had supposed I’d better. So let’s see how well he does wooing Christine before he lets her sleep.

[anothersilentobserver]

Sounds like a dream job right now...

[anothersilentobserver]

Outside the Opera, Paris - Jean-Georges Béraud - 1879

[anothersilentobserver]

Epic.

hmm somehow, the long way to a small angry planet made its way to the non-fiction section of my local bookshop

(no someone hadn't just placed it there for laughs, that shelf was three books deep)

[anothersilentobserver]

genius.

Made a torture chamber themed one for energy/thermochem

yes they are licking the mirror/one way glass very inspired by that one post i saw

Here's the practise question I wrote if anyone wants to try doing it for whatever reason, tried to make it as accurate/realistic as possible

If Erik combusted 20. g of propane to heat up the 25m^3 torture chamber with an initial temperature of 20 degrees celcius, what would the final temp of the sealed torture chamber be? Delta H of the reaction = -2220.1kj/mol. Conditions: - Assume the torture chamber is mostly air - Specific heat capacity of air is 1.005j/gc - Density of air is around 1200g/m^3

(Answer key and solution process is the Daroga's speech bubble btw)

[anothersilentobserver]

my thoughts exactly. Ok, maybe not the incense and loud art. But art, hell yeah.

propaganda i am not falling for:

always moving on. some goodbyes need to rot a little. some griefs need to be held in the mouth like a stone.

beauty defined by algorithms. beauty exists in crow feet and smile lines

pretending to be chill. i’m not chill. i care deeply and inconveniently. i read into things. i write poems about eye contact

beige apartments with no soul. give me bookshelves and incense and loud art

sneaky links and unclear intentions. i want devotion. and also clarity

treating books as decor. read them. dog-ear them. argue with them in the margins

[anothersilentobserver]

I loved this. All of it. The conciseness of the writing, the subversion of some of the usual tropes, the grown-up ideas about the exercise of power. We need more Aerlins and Mirenas IRL...

A king who doesn't really want to and isn't able to run the kingdom properly catches wind of a noble woman who wants to kill him to take over and he realizes she is extremely competent so he decides to propose to her to save everyone the hassle and they have a surprisingly healthy relationship.

[anothersilentobserver]

Honestly, y'all, I'm begging you. Take the time to think and learn for yourself. Even if it's just something casual like knitting or cooking. Exercise your brain. It's important.

[anothersilentobserver]

Soldiers of song documentary

Went to see ths documentary about musicians in Ukraine - serving in the armed forced, raising funds - sometimes both, raising morale, just trying to survive.

Raw, beautifully filmed, and so SO important we do not forget their fight for freedom, or waiver in our support for it.

Join a screening if you can, or or it's available on streaming. I discovered lots of great artists as well as supporting the cause.

[anothersilentobserver]

signal boosting!

Update! The Better Man: Chapter 42

HELLO. I have been on a bit of an unexpected fandom break but I am back, and so is this story which I have NOT abandoned. And which is finally on its way to a resolution. But before anyone can have their ending, happy or otherwise, things simply must go to shit first. Enjoy!

Read it here.

PS- Thank you to all who have continued to follow this story, and those have been so kind to send encouragement and/or check in with me. I am slowly pulling myself back into “normal” and I promise you will hear more from me soon! (And that is a threat 🥰)

[anothersilentobserver]

this is absolutely brilliant.

Mrs. Faust

by Carol Ann Duffy

First things first -- I married Faust. We met as students, shacked up, split up, made up, hitched up, got a mortgage on a house, flourished academically, BA. MA. Ph.D. No kids. Two toweled bathrobes. Hers. His. We worked. We saved. We moved again. Fast cars. A boat with sails. A second home in Wales. The latest toys -- computers, mobile phones. Prospered. Moved again. Faust’s face was clever, greedy, slightly mad. I was as bad. I grew to love the lifestyle, not the life. He grew to love the kudos, not the wife. He went to whores. I felt, not jealousy, but chronic irritation. I went to yoga, t’ai chi, Feng Shui, therapy, colonic irrigation. And Faust would boast at dinner parties of the cost of doing deals out East. Then take his lust to Soho in a cab, to say the least, to lay the ghost, get lost, meet panthers, feast. He wanted more. I came home late one winter’s evening, hadn’t eaten. Faust was upstairs in his study, in a meeting. I smelled cigar smoke, hellish, oddly sexy, not allowed. I heard Faust and the other laugh aloud. Next thing, the world, as Faust said, spread its legs. First politics -- Safe seat. MP. Right Hon. KG. 50 Then banks -- offshore, abroad -- and business - Vice-­chairman. Chairman. Owner. Lord. Enough? Encore! Faust was Cardinal, Pope, knew more than God; flew faster than the speed of sound around the globe, lunched; walked on the moon, golfed, holed in one; lit a fat Havana on the sun. Then backed a hunch -- Invested in smart bombs, in harms, Faust dealt in arms. Faust got in deep, got out. Bought farms, cloned sheep, Faust surfed the Internet for like-­minded Bo-­Peep. As for me, I went my own sweet way, saw Rome in a day, spun gold from hay, had a facelift, had my breasts enlarged, my buttocks tightened; went to China, Thailand, Africa, returned, enlightened. Turned 40, celibate, teetotal, vegan, Buddhist, 41. Went blonde, redhead, brunette, went native, ape, berserk, bananas; went on the run, alone; went home. Faust was in. A word, he said, I spent the night being pleasured by a virtual Helen of Troy. Face that launched a thousand ships. I kissed its lips. Things is -- I’ve made a pact with Mephistopheles, the Devil’s boy. He’s on his way to take away what’s owed, reap what I sowed. For all these years of gagging for it, going for it, rolling in it, I’ve sold my soul. At this, I heard a serpent’s hiss, tasted evil, knew its smell, as scaly devil hands poked up right through the terracotta Tuscan tiles at Faust’s bare feet and dragged him, oddly smirking, there and then straight down to Hell. Oh, well. Faust’s will left everything -- the yacht, the several homes, the Lear jet, the helipad, the loot, et cet, et cet, the lot -- to me. C’est la vie. When I got ill, it hurt like hell. I bought a kidney with my credit card, then I got well. I keep Faust’s secret still -- the clever, cunning, callous bastard didn’t have a soul to sell.