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[ariarinko]

trying to post for the nth time..

3rd and 4th are friends' ocs from twt!!

edit: oh okay ig my sketches were the reason😒

[ariarinko]

*BARGES THROUGH THE DOOR WHILE STILL RECOVERING FROM BULLET WOUND.*

I CANT BE SILENCED FOREVER,

*SLAMS THIS PIC ON THE TABLE.*

TSUJIMURA AND HIGUCHI SHOULD KI- *gets knocked out and taken back to my hospital room.*

[ariarinko]

For all the people who ask me for writing advice...

Neil Gaiman

1 Write.

2 Put one word after another. Find the right word, put it down.

3 Finish what you’re writing. Whatever you have to do to finish it, finish it.

4 Put it aside. Read it pretending you’ve never read it before. Show it to friends whose opinion you respect and who like the kind of thing that this is.

5 Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.

6 Fix it. Remember that, sooner or later, before it ever reaches perfection, you will have to let it go and move on and start to write the next thing. Perfection is like chasing the horizon. Keep moving.

7 Laugh at your own jokes.

8 The main rule of writing is that if you do it with enough assurance and confidence, you’re allowed to do whatever you like. (That may be a rule for life as well as for writing. But it’s definitely true for writing.) So write your story as it needs to be written. Write it ­honestly, and tell it as best you can. I’m not sure that there are any other rules. Not ones that matter.

…

Read the whole article. It’s filled with great advice from wonderful writers…

[ariarinko]

assortments of some men

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robin williams 🤝 playing charismatic teachers who are better father figure, than an actual father, for kids who don't know what they need to do with their lives

[ariarinko]

you go to high school as a dead poet society then go to college as a good will hunting and graduate as a before sunrise

[ariarinko]

The Cishet 1990s American Father-Son Movie, Good Omens triggered.

For those who are confused, @howmanyholesinswisscheese made a heartbreaking Good Omens post. Read it and weep.

The reblogs however degenerated into a Cishet Father-Son saga, since you maggots are all my adoptive parents. Here is a more polished version of my latest contribution to the hellsite.

[Opening credits play over highly saturated, sundrenched midwest farmland. Bob Dylan's Sara plays and the title appears as the camera slows to a halt in front of a sprawling house.]

[TITLE: Farewell, Iowa, We'll Meet Again, a Gus Van Sant film]

Art 'Greeny' Matthews, a man who does an honest day's work in the farm and is pretty darn proud of it, wanders through his house. His wife Darlene just left him (hence the opening song), and he is faced with the prospect of raising his only son, a ten year old lad Asmond 'Mond' Matthews, on his own.

Greeny takes Mond along with him as he works in the farm on holidays, riding in the tractor. Mond cries about Darlene, who didn't even leave a note, the hussy, and Greeny comforts him as much as he can. "It'll be alright, son," Greeny says on Mond's eleventh birthday, as they sit in the stable with a badly made cake on the wobbly stool. "Just you and me, eh? Not bad!"

"I hate chocolate," Mond whispers miserably, and the birthday party ends in more tears.

When Mond is thirteen, he starts to grow more closed with his emotions, just helping his dad around the farm. They're making a huge profit, and Greeny has business deals and free time, and makes an effort to bring Mond along to golf games and such. Mond is being bullied in school for being caught writing poetry, but he refuses to tell his dad why he comes home with a black eye every other week.

"I'm always here if you want to talk over a game of catch, son," Greeny tries one day. "No thanks, dad," Mond says, and wanders away into the stable. At fourteen, Greeny tries to bring him on fishing trips to discuss his feelings, as they used to do back when Darlene lived with them. Mond swallows, but shakes his head.

Finally, Mond can't keep it from him anymore, and when Greeny finds out, he goes into a rare fit of temper. "Just like your mother, boy!" he says, hand rattling his mug of ale. "A wanderer and a careless fool, that's what you'll turn out to be! There ain't no place in this world for people livin' in their heads."

Mond doesn't write poetry anymore.

As Mond grows, though, he helps out more with the farm, and they bond over hopes for future profit, and joking about golf, which they both find pretentious. "C'mon, champ, let's go play golf," Greeny says while they watch suited businessmen make their way to the house, out of place amidst the yellow-green farmland. "What's your favourite golf club?"

"That a literal club, or the thing they whack the ball with, dad?" Mond responds, and Greeny chortles. "I taught you better than that, son."

He has high hopes for Mond, he will take over the farm. Greeny is growing weary of his duties, he married late and had Mond even later.

[Montages of sunlight days ensue, intercut with shots of Mond, who always has a melancholic air about him. His mother was a dancer, and that rebellious spirit, so long dormant, is beginning to stir as he enters his twenties.]

On his twenty-first birthday, Greeny has baked him a cake, not chocolate. Mond barely sees it. His father doesn't know him. Not really. Not at all. When Greeny says he is handing over the farm to him, and starts to give him instructions about the responsibilities, Mond has had it.

He picks up the rucksack he's been storing by the umbrella stand for weeks, and shoulders it as Greeny pauses mid-lecture. "I'm sorry, dad," Mond says. "I'm going away to be my own man. This was your dream. Not mine."

Greeny is too frozen to stop him.

[Knockin' on Heaven's Door by Bob Dylan plays with another montage]

Mond travels the States, far from home and Iowa, and after a year of struggle finally publishes his first anthology of poetry. Hoping to make his dad proud, he sends a letter home asking if it imperative he return, since he's too ashamed to say he wants to. The reply is a brief but polite no from the housekeeper, saying his father wishes him well but does not require that he return. Assuming Greeny wants nothing to do with him, Mond stays away, bitter and homesick.

He is called home a few months later, and when he arrives, he is met not with Greeny, but with the housemaids and farmhands in black, and the housekeeper teary-eyed as she guides him to the back garden and a lonely gravestone. Greeny, heartbroken by his son leaving the same way Darlene his wife did all those years ago, declined in health, but he kept up the farm till the end, all ready for Mond should he want it after all, and for the head farmer if he didn't.

Mond, still carrying his book hoping to have shown his dad at last, stares in shock at the gravestone. He thinks even at the end Greeny did not know him, thought he would want the farm. Until he reads the inscription. Art 'Greeny' Matthews, friend to all, loyal husband, and most of all, proud father of a poet.

His father knew, Mond realised. His father knew what he'd been doing.

"Are ya proud, dad?" Mond whispers, dropping the book and kneeling down before the stone. "Are ya proud? It was all for you."

[The camera pulls back to show the farmland, scattered with people in black going about their work because business stops for no one, and a solitary figure by the gravestone. Bob Dylan's Blowin' in the Wind plays as the end credits roll.]

"How many roads must a man walk down, before you call him a man?

How many seas must a white dove sail, before she sleeps in the sand?"

The end.

@howmanyholesinswisscheese The challenge has been issued.

[ariarinko]

Terrance Fletcher should be dragged out of that music room by armed, masked men. He should be dragged out onto the sidewalk where he's shotgunned in the face. The barrel of the gun should be held up to his nose for a few seconds so he knows exactly what's about to happen. His corpse should be left to rot in the street as a public health hazzard and a warning to his COWARD coworkers who let him abuse kids right in front of them for YEARS. Every person working at that school should be led at gunpoint EVERY MORNING to view Fletcher's reeking, mushy, deflated fucking corpse until the rain finally washes the last of the abusive fucking cocksucker down the fucking gutter. Every single COWARD who let him hurt kids needs to fucking see him and know that's what they'll get. That's what men who hit kids get.

I think this may have to do with my post about how abusive mentors in the arts is commonplace.

I didn’t like Fletcher all that much either in the film. He was the antagonist so he antagonized. But he really did remind me of some of the mentors I’ve had throughout my life, starting in the 8th grade. I don’t know what it is about ensemble conductors/instructors but they DO throw stuff, they DO set out to humiliate you if you tamper with the cohesion of the piece. The wind section instructor in high school didn’t through a chair, but he did throw a music stand. And, while it’s not ethical to scare kids into doing what you want, it got the job done.

In undergrad I pursued screenwriting. My mentor put me on the pedestal only to grievously humble me in front of my peers. He held me to a higher standard and pointed it out each time I fumbled. It sucked, but I was always at my best in front of others, an audience, which is the POINT in performing arts.

What I understand from Andrew’s point of view is that he sticks around because he appreciates this abrasiveness, this harshness, because you succeed almost in SPITE of your teacher. I think it was hinted that Andrew is autistic during his first date and that only aids in his single minded pursuit of what he thought was greatness. I never got into an accident during a frenzy to get to a show/reading, but I did have a psychotic break junior year that got me a weekend in the hospital. I don’t know where this franticness comes from when studying the arts and being “the favorite.” Maybe it’s the fear of loss of status. Maybe it’s because the only people who make it in these industries seem innovative and perfect and well-liked. But it happens a lot and not one moment of Whiplash was unbelievable in that regard.

As for the Fletcher/Neiman relationship and the hitting… Andrew isn’t actually a child in this film. He’s on the cusp, sure. But he’s legally a grown man, goes to college, and lives on his own. I never got the feeling he didn’t know exactly what he was doing the whole film through. He withstood Fletcher’s abuse because he knew he’d come out the other end with significant acclaim in the jazz scene.

We see his relationship with his dad and how careful it is. How it got him absolutely nowhere. A dad like that would rather you be safe and sound than successful. He would’ve probably thought it was big time if Andrew ended up teaching band at the same school he taught English at. His dad was a failed artist. Andrew knew that Fletcher was his key out of that fate and he was proved right when he was kicked out of school and barred from contacting Fletcher.

I think Fletcher really liked Andrew. I don’t think he would’ve gone ~physically~ beyond slapping Andrew. Not that that’s excusable. I think he wanted to break Andrew so that he could remold him into something that would fit the jazz scene. Because Andrew was really soft at the beginning of the film. Always looking down, always apologizing. The arts industries are cutthroat, so Fletcher should be cutthroat. Give Andrew some callouses.

If Andrew’s father was just some milquetoast, vaguely warm shadow. Fletcher was a robust, potent Tiger Mom replacement for Andrew. I think, in the context of this film and New York City and the music industry, Andrew needed Fletcher to be what Fletcher was. An asshole.

[ariarinko]

Whiplash (2013) | Tár (2022)

[ariarinko]

on impending ends and nameless hunger

by Jeannette Loupe (me)

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[ariarinko]

HBD! Miles!

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My top 10 movies which I love all my heart (pictures aren't mine) ❤️

PS and of course "Pride and Prejudice", but I can only put 10 pictures in post :((

[ariarinko]

movies every girlblogger should watch

damien chazelle :

-whiplash

-la la land

-babylon

sofia coppola

-marie-antoinette

-the virgin suicides

-bling ring

-lost in translation

greta gerwig

-ladybird

-little women

-frances ha

david fincher

-fight club

-seven

-zodiac

-gone girl

-the game

quentin tarantino

-once upon a time in hollywood

-the hateful eight

ft angelina jolie

-girl interrupted (james mangold)

-mr and ms smith (doug liman)

-taking lives (d.j caruso)

ft jake gyllenhaal

-donnie darko (richard kelly)

-nightcrawler (dan gilroy)

-love and other drugs (edward zwick)

-nocturnal animals (tom ford)

[ariarinko]

THE OBSESSED ARTIST

“The trope of the obsessed artist refers to a character that strives to perfect their chosen craft and better themselves at it by any means necessary, which can lead to their own self-destruction in their pursuit of perfection”

[ariarinko]

10 dark academia movies you might not know (part 3):

The Breakfast Club

Whiplash

The Falling

Licorice Pizza

Maurice

Anna Karenina

Cracks

Picnic at Hanging Rock

Nowhere Boy

Kill Your Darlings

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