#A Guidebook of Babel

[tkcarbohydrate]

Sylvia

[sleepdepravity]

howtofightwrite answered a question about cultivation and chinese media today and near the end said "This is also why a lot of Chinese media ends in tragedy with hope for the next round" and yeah it's really just like that.

[synthy-sizer]

You walk down the walkway of your balcony, passing by the doorways to a number of apartments as you go. Some have lights on, but not many people would be awake at this time of night. You cannot help but look up at the sky as you make your way to the stairs. The moon glows through the dense rainfall, small lights glimmering on its surface. Some stars are even visible from behind the wall of water, but only the brightest ones. You look back down again as you approach the stairs, making sure you don’t fall before stepping down, making your way down the flights of stairs. As you pass each floor you can’t help but ask the same questions you have, about your quest and what it has cost you. It’s surprising to you that it’s taken so long to realize it. But those kinds of questions can wait till you have gotten food in your system. Hunger is your primary concern.

Reaching the bottom floor you walk out to the entrance of the apartment complex, briefly looking up at the stack of homes. You know which apartment is yours, and yet somehow the light coming from it feels so foreign. You had gotten so used to being nocturnal, perhaps signs of life feels alien now? You turn away, walking out of the gate and down the sidewalk.

Not many are out this time of night, especially during this weather. As you plod along on the slicked sidewalk, you barely even see cars driving by. Do you even know what time it is? It occurs to you that you never bothered to check the time on your flip clock, but one look at the dark sky and complete lack of foot traffic tells you it’s very late indeed, almost certainly several hours after midnight. Luckily, the convenience corner store is open 24/7. It’s also the only place likely not to judge you for your less than presentable appearance. You take note of the infrastructure surrounding you, the way that the street lights and electrical towers all connect in a complex web, carrying electricity and signals every which way. Electrical wires hiss and steam in the rain above you.

Reaching an intersection, you press the stop button on the streetlight and wait. There isn’t much traffic, but you would rather not die after getting this far towards solving your problem. While you wait for the lights to turn red and signal any traffic to stop, you once again ponder the electrical towers surrounding you on all sides. It’s disgusting. Waves and frequencies exist in a natural state, one that humanity naively believes they can harness and manipulate. Your guidebook tells you, rightfully, that it is for this exact reason that humanity was banished from Eden and that this Tower of Babel humanity seeks to create works against God’s will. To try and harness and pervert the holy state of Heaven and use it to connect each other and try to become Godlike shows the arrogant and misguided nature of the sinful human race. You rest your hand against the button and pray in your mind, humbly asking for forgiveness for using this vile technology to try and once again reach the holy land. It is only through this true belief and humbleness, you hope, that you might be forgiven and allowed back into the realm you were meant to inhabit. The lights turn red.

Murmuring prayers, you cross the intersection and continue down the sidewalk, walking past shop fronts and homes, lights all out, until you finally see the glowing strips of colored light belonging to the convenience store. You sigh in relief, knowing that soon you will be able to rid yourself of your nagging hunger, and think clearly.

NEXT

PREVIOUS

[dailystraitsdotcom]

Week's Top Gaming News

Gaming world updates: V Rising, Fireside, Fishbowl, Bang-On Balls. Runaways launch soon. "A Guidebook of Babel" on sale.

Sydney, May 11: Dive into the latest exhilarating updates and releases in the gaming world, where players can explore everything from gothic vampire realms to cozy narrative adventures and heart-pounding endless runners. This week’s roundup brings you the freshest news from the realms of action RPGs, slice-of-life puzzles, and adrenaline-fueled platformers, ensuring there’s something for every…

[5brightplanets]

༅༅༅༅༅༅༅༅

It feeds on brainwave energy

༅༅༅༅༅༅༅༅

An archivable entry in The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy exposing the bizarrely improbable coincidence of Babel fish. Which, as it turns out, is namely the same bizarrely improbable coincidence of events that drove the ultimate contributor of this guidebook entry to the BBC so as to air a full moon cameo for posteriority. Vine Loredom Provenance: Articulated in the course of the The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy in both the book and BBC television adaptation: Original Radio Drama, Book, and TV Screenplay by Douglas Adams, TV Series (produced for the BBC) Directed by Alan J. W. Bell. The above photo by Jivananda Candrāmā (James FitzGerald) was archived by name and posted prior. -Jivananda (Jim)

[pdremaster]

A Guidebook of Babel - Official Announcement Trailer [4K]

[elmundotech]

Nintendo Indie World 11-05-2022: Todos los Tráilers

#Nintendo #IndieWorld 11-05-2022: Todos los #Tráilers - #videojuegos #elmundotech

El Nintendo Indie World 11-05-2022 presentó veinte juegos independientes en la transmisión en inglés más seis títulos que solo se vieron en la versión japonesa (tales como Gang Beasts, Don’t Starve Together, Neon White, Undying, Super Noda Game World, Behind the Frame). También se suma a la lista la transmisión en japonés y español. Echa un vistazo a todos los tráilers aquí. Ooblets (de…

[imtryingmybeskar]

My first Marcus Pike fic. Its pure fluff and angst right now and I love him more with every passing second. One mild sexual reference. There will be more chapters. Slow burn time. 7.8k words.

The artworks mentioned are as follows - Babel by Cildo Meireles, Maman by Lousie Bourgeois and Pharmacy by Damien Hirst.

Also, getting free cheese and mead at Borough Market was one of the best days of my life, hence why it made it in.

This is the look I had in mind when I wrote this.

Chapter 1: Enough Said

The soft blue light of the room bounced off of the harsh chrome and white plastic of the tower in front of you. Glowing red and white lights shone from it in seemingly random places. It was made from a collection of radio technology, going from the primitive to more modern the higher the tower went, and each radio hissed and spoke softly, with the occasional swell of music also making itself known. You looked at the guidebook you had purchased and found the page pertaining to this particular artwork. Babel by Cildo Meireles. You had never considered yourself particularly attracted to modern art, much preferring the Pre-Raphaelite collection displayed in the Tate Britain, a few miles walk up the river from your current location. But you connected with this piece and you couldn't exactly work out why. It didn't matter really, you were just here to expand your horizons. The Tate Modern was never your first choice of art gallery but you had decided today was the day to step outside of your comfort zone a bit. This was a rare weekday off for you and you had decided to make the most of your city while there were fewer people around. Looking up at the height of the tower before you, you stepped back a little to appreciate it more and collided with a solid weight behind you.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry!" You were apologising even before you had turned around, as a good Londoner always should.

"Hey, no its my fault. This room is big enough that I shouldn't have walked by so close. I'm sorry." His voice was deep and warm with an American accent. He might have said something else after that, but it was as if the static noises coming from the exhibit behind you got louder as you turned and saw him. He was literally the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. The deepest cocoa brown eyes, reflecting the blue light of the room and sparkling with humour and warmth, a prominent nose leading to pouty, full lips with a pronounced cupid's bow, the slightest hint of stubble on his upper lip and hugging his strong jawline. His hair was dark and a little messy. It looked like he was growing it out and it was in an in-between stage that he didn't quite know how to handle. He was wearing a plain grey t shirt which did everything to accentuate how broad his shoulders were. Realising you were in danger of making this awkward by gawking, you smiled instead.

"Call it an even draw?" you offered. He gave a half smile with his polite laugh and a dimple flashed briefly at you.

"That's fair," he nodded. "Uhh do you know anything about this work?" He gestured at the art behind you. "I'm more of a Baroque man myself."

"Honestly, no," you confessed. "I'm more of a Pre-Raphaelite fan. But because of that, I did buy this ridiculously expensive guide and its actually been very helpful." You offered the open book to him, so he could read about the piece as you had. As he pored over the page he held it close to his face in the dim light and a slight furrow between his eyes appeared as he concentrated on the words. You stepped into line beside him, not wanting to make him feel as if you were waiting for him to be finished and also still trying desperately not to let your eyes be drawn to him too much. An art lover and handsome. Your eyes slid across to his hands. No ring that you could see. All he needed now was a sense of humour, to want a partner and to be into women and he'd be perfect.

"Babel" he said quietly. "Well I guess that makes sense." Silence fell as he perused the page. You were looking at the tower without really seeing it. You weren't shy exactly, but directly asking someone if they wanted to go out wasn't your style, particularly when you had met them only a couple of minutes ago. But you did want to keep talking to him. The thought of him slipping back into the anonymous grey of London and never seeing him again made you bolder than you would ordinarily be.

"If you don't mind me asking, why come to see modern Art if you like Baroque? I can recommend some good galleries to check out if you're here on holiday and that's your thing." He glanced up from the page at you, a small smile playing about his lips.

"I'm here for work, actually. In London I mean, not here at the Tate. And I've checked out a lot of the main galleries in London already, so I thought it was about time to pay a visit here. You know, complete the set." His smile grew a little wider as he asked, "And you? If this isn't really your thing either why are you here?"

"Sort of the same reason. I have my favourites that I visit as often as I can. Today I felt like expanding my horizons. Being a little more daring...And I've just realised how pathetic my life sounds if the most daring thing I do with it is to go and see modern art." He gave a proper chuckle at that, a rumble deep in the broad expanse of his chest.

"Some modern art does seem to require nerves of steel from what I can see. Didn't they have a giant spider in the main hall here a few years back? It was like 30 feet tall or something?"

"They did. I gave that one a miss. Not that daring," you smiled at him. Silence fell between you again as he resumed reading. He turned a page and let out a little hum of surprise.

"They have a Damien Hirst installation here?"

"Yeah, its back through here and downstairs," you gestured over your shoulder with your thumb through the door behind you. "It's pretty cool. He's mocked up an entire pharmacy in a room."

"Ah you've already seen it?" Did your hopeful ears detect a faint note of disappointment in the question?

"I wandered through briefly, but it might be worth a second look," you proffered. You were lying. You had quite enjoyed the installation and had spent some time in there, but if it meant more time with Mr Grey T-Shirt you were very happy to go back. He kept hold of your guidebook as you made your way to the other exhibit, one or other of you occasionally stopping along the way to look at another piece that caught your eyes. Your conversation topics strictly revolved around the art and your interpretations of it, with him supplying the knowledge from the guide as and when it was required, but you found him to be an easy conversationalist and you shared a lot of laughs as you moved around the galleries. You had just about made it to the Hirst exhibit when the announcement came over the tannoy that the gallery would be closing in half an hour. He turned to you with wide eyes.

"Well, that flew," he exclaimed. "Maybe I do have a thing for modern art!"

"Yeah, how long was that, about two hours? It didn't feel like it at all," you agreed. A slightly uncomfortable pause fell between you, neither one of you really knowing how to end your brief interaction without awkwardness. A thought seemed to suddenly strike him.

"Oh, uh, here's your guidebook back," he said, handing it to you. "Sorry I hogged it the whole way round. It was really interesting though. And thank you for your company."

"Thank you for yours," you replied. "And don't worry about hogging the guidebook. It was nice to have someone telling me about all the pieces to be honest." He smiled that disarming smile once more at you and raised his hand in a half wave.

"Bye," he said, a little stiffly. You mirrored his half wave.

"Bye." As he walked away, you had a sudden thought. Fumbling in your bag for a pen, you scribbled your name and number on the inside cover of the book. This was not something you would ordinarily do either, but you had promised yourself to try new things today. You made your way through the hall and caught up with him as he was about to make his way outside.

"Hi again, sorry. I just wanted to give you this. As a souvenir of a good day. And um...my number is in there. So if you want to do it again sometime, drop me a message?" He had smiled broadly when you had handed him the guidebook, but it faltered a little when you mentioned that you had given him your number and your stomach clenched a little in embarrassment. He wasn't into you, for whatever reason. Okay, that was fine. He was good company. You could pull this back. "I just realised how that sounded," you continued breezily. "I meant if you ever want to do it again as friends then let me know. No pressure. I won't be offended if you don't get in touch." His smile strengthened a little, but you could see that a sadness had crept into his eyes.

"Uh, thank you," he said haltingly. "I'm afraid I may not have any more free time before I go back to the States. My work can be pretty intense."

"I understand," you said hastily, wanting nothing more than to be away from here and drown your embarrassment in a glass of wine. "It was good to meet you anyway. Have a safe trip home." You smiled at him and turned to walk away.

"Thank you," he said again, a little flatly and you turned briefly to wave at him as you walked away. So much for being daring. You did indeed drown your embarrassment and mild sorrow in a couple of glasses of wine and one of your favourite films that evening. By the time you were pouring the second you had calmed down a little. You weren't really looking for anyone anyway and were pretty content with your life how it was. It had just been so long since anyone had caught your eye that you felt a little ruffled by the rejection. Still, you were fairly proud of yourself that you had given it a go at all and strangely, your confidence was slightly bolstered by the whole thing. Or perhaps that was just the wine talking. You sighed and took yourself to bed, trying not to think about the broad shoulders and deep brown eyes of the man who had kept you company that afternoon.

The next few days passed in the mild tedium of day to day life. You rose, worked, ate, read, chatted, cooked, shopped, slept. Your work took up most of your time and you were glad to get lost in it a little. Much as you tried not to pay attention to it, occasionally your mind would wander back to the gallery and his smile and laughter. And the final flash of sadness in his eyes before you had gone. You wondered why he was sad - if someone had hurt him, or if he thought he had hurt you, or if he had something else going on in his personal life. When your thoughts got to this point you would invariably give yourself a shake and get back to your tasks, telling yourself it was pointless to dwell on the life of someone you had met for a couple of hours once. Still, he would not be dislodged so easily and it was beginning to irritate you somewhat that you were dwelling on this person with zero hope of a return, or even a second meeting. Or so you thought.

A week after you had visited the Tate, you were having a Bad Day. The alarm hadn't gone off, you had woken late and had arrived to work stressed, sleepy and non-caffeinated. The bakery that you co-owned by its nature needed to be operational at silly o'clock in the morning, so by the time you arrived you were already behind schedule for the day. You worked like a demon that morning to make up the time and had just about succeeded when Catherine, your business partner and friend, arrived for the start of her shift. She took one look at you and started to prepare you a coffee. You could have cried with gratitude. By the time your one employee arrived, you were exhausted but back on track and you hoped that the rest of the day would go better for you. No such luck. It seemed that every customer was either rude or entitled or an idiot. Some were even a winning combination of all three and you found yourself longing for a long bath and bedtime. Once the lunch rush had died down and you were cleaning in the back, Catherine came to find you.

"Bad morning, huh?"

"Let's just not talk about it. I'm sure it'll be better tomorrow!"

"Well, I'm not trying to get on to you or make your day worse, but I just wanted to check on how you were doing with Jas's cake?" You groaned out loud. Catherine's daughter. She would be six in a few days and you had promised to help with the party, including making the birthday cake and decorating it. "You forgot about the cake?" Catherine asked incredulously. "That's not like you. Are you ok? Do you need to talk about anything?"

"No, no, its fine. I didn't forget about the cake, I just lost track of the days. Didn't realise how close her birthday is. I'll get it done and I'll be there to help still." Catherine was still looking at you dubiously. "Honestly, I'm okay. I think I just need a holiday or something!" You were telling the truth. You had just lost track of time in the past week. The days seemed to be melding one into the other with nothing to define them. Ever since you had met him. You gave yourself a mental shake. You really needed to get over this crush or whatever it was. Now it had started to impact what was important in your life, it was time to get your head out of the daydreams and back to reality. Your resolution was pretty successful for the rest of the day and lasted well after you arrived home. Instead of diving straight in the bath like you wanted to, you began to make preparations for the decorations that would go on Jasmine's cake. The work was more fun than your day to day stuff and you hummed along to your playlist as you lost yourself in the colourful fondant shapes. A text flicked on to the screen and caught your eye.

"Hi, its Marcus. I'm the guy you met the other day at the Tate. My stay in London has been extended for a while, so I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer of another art day? Or something else if you want? You can get me on this number. Let me know!"

Your heart jumped a little as you read the words but you tried to talk yourself out of getting too excited, remembering that look in his eyes when you had asked him out initially. Just treat this as a friendship thing, you told yourself. No pressure for anyone, just hanging out with someone who makes you laugh and making a new friend. Sounds like fun. And "Sounds like fun" was exactly what you sent him, along with your availability over the next week. Whatever his job was, it seemed like the hours were punishing. Between your early starts and his late finishes there were very few days that coincided for you both, but eventually you settled on Sunday at midday, electing to meet outside Tate Britain this time, as it was relatively easy for you both to get to. You got back to work on your cake decorations, your heart a little lighter and a smile on your face.

Marcus stood out from the crowd even at a distance. At 11.55 you were on the approach to the Tate along the pavement that hugged the water. You could see him lounging easily against the railings bordering the Thames, looking out over the boats as they meandered up and down the lazy river. His hair was ruffling softly in the breeze and he absentmindedly ran his hand through it to push it back. You had the same urge yourself but you stamped on it and approached him. He had shaved since the last time you saw him and his skin looked smooth and soft.

"Hey," you greeted him as you arrived, a wide smile on your face.

"Hi," he said eagerly as he saw you, an answering grin on his lips. "Shall we?" He made a pretence of ushering you forward in a "ladies first" kind of move. At least you thought it was a pretence. But when you reached the doors of the Tate he leapt up the last few stairs ahead of you in order to hold the door open for you and gestured for you to go ahead of him again. You thanked him with a smile but felt a little awkward as you weren't really used to this kind of treatment.

"Guide book? Or nah?" you asked him.

"I trust in your knowledge. If you say you know Pre-Raphaelites, you know Pre-Raphaelites."

"There's your first mistake. Trusting in my knowledge is unwise at best," you smiled at him.

"Yeah, but this way I save ten pounds, so just make it sound convincing okay?" he joked, his dimple flashing at you.

The afternoon was wonderful. You took in the beautiful art of course, but you felt that you were taking each other in too. He was funny and really intelligent and you found yourself warming to him more and more as the day wore on. After a couple of hours strolling around the galleries, you sat on one of the benches provided to rest your feet. As you sipped the water you had brought with you, your stomach let out an embarrassingly loud gurgle. You looked across at him with wide eyes and an exaggerated shamed expression on your face.

"Sorry. I did eat today but I think I'm hungry again."

"I could eat. Do you know anywhere around here that does good food?"

"What's your definition of good? Are you a true American? Bacon and syrup with all meals?" you joked.

"Hey, now I'm offended," he pouted. "Its bacon and syrup AND pancakes, thank you!" His lips really were gorgeous. You tore your mind away from that train of thought and stood up.

"Come on," you said. "I have the perfect place."

The White Hart was a pub not far from the gallery. It was very traditionally Victorian, with panelled carved wood, a separate saloon bar, and beautiful etched glass dividers everywhere. The dark wooden floor creaked enormously underfoot as you seated yourselves opposite each other in a booth with red velvet upholstery. You had come here a few times over the years and the Sunday roasts were to die for.

"Do you want a drink?" you asked him.

"Uhhh I haven't managed to do too much drinking in England yet. I like beer. What would you recommend?" After discussing the various options with him, he settled on a pint of the same beer that you yourself had chosen, reasoning to you that at least it wouldn't go to waste if he didn't like it.

"Trying to get me drunk already," you tutted teasingly at him as you went to go to the bar. He went to stand at the same time.

"Hey, I'll get this."

"You can get the next round. It's okay," you reassured him and he sat back in his seat, a vaguely discomfited look on his face. You weren't sure if he wanted to pay for you because he was trying to be "gentlemanly" or because he thought it was a date and he should. The latter thought distracted you so much that you almost messed up the simple order of the same pint twice as you gave it to the barman. He tried to pay for your meals too, but you insisted that you split it. You had never felt comfortable with people paying for you if you didn't know them well, though you didn't tell him that. He smiled and agreed, but you could see that he wasn't entirely happy. He ate every bit of his food and made a deep hum of contentment as he finished.

"Maybe British food isn't that bad after all. Could have used more syrup though," he commented with a grin, making you giggle. After your meal and another pint, you decided to walk it off by taking a stroll up the Thames. You had talked about everything and nothing in the pub, still mostly focused on the artworks that you had seen that day and in times past interspersed with silly jokes that the both of you seemed to find entertaining. Now as you walked, you found yourself curious about him.

"If you don't mind me asking, what do you do work-wise?" He looked at you appraisingly and there was a brief moment where you felt he was sizing you up to see if he could trust you or not.

"I work for the FBI," he eventually confessed. You made a noise of disbelief.

"No, seriously what do you do?"

"I work for the FBI," he repeated more slowly, nodding his head as he enunciated every word. "I work for the Art Squad. Investigating stolen art."

"There's an Art Squad?!" you exclaimed in delight. "Like Police Squad, but with Art?"

"Sadly, I cannot claim to be Leslie Nielsen," he sighed dramatically. "And we're not that competent," he added with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. "But yes, that is genuinely what I do. I'm here working with Scotland Yard on a case. I can't tell you much more for obvious reasons but you can probably understand the long hours now."

"I can. Wow. That's so cool! I've never met anyone who worked that kind of a job before. Is it really different here, in how we do things?"

"The main difference is I don't have to spend time and effort on paperwork to check my gun in and out everyday, so that's something. Oh and after work drinks. You people are insane on a Friday night. You drink like you don't want to live. I only went once, made my excuses ever since." You grimaced at him.

"Yeah, that's probably for the best."

"How about you, what do you do?"

"I co-own a bakery. I do most of the actual baking. Hence my stupidly early starts." Marcus stopped still and caught your forearms in his hands. The warmth of him seeped through your cardigan to your bare skin beneath, making your breath catch in your throat a little. The tips of his hair were ruffling gently in the soft breeze and the sun was hitting him on one side of his face, making that eye glow amber in contrast to the other one in the shadow, which looked like dark chocolate. His brow wrinkled as his eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. You thought you could smell his cologne - a woody and slightly spicy scent. He was so pretty and so close to you, it was a little intoxicating.

"Are you telling me we've been hanging out all day and I'm only learning now that you can bake? You've been holding out on me!" He grinned at you and released your arms to begin walking again. A large part of you wished he hadn't, and you felt a little wrong footed by the exchange. As you turned to walk with him again he was asking you questions. "Where is this bakery? And do you give discounts to extremely good friends that you've known for-" he glanced at his watch "-all of six hours?" You laughed out loud at that, and told him where your workplace was.

"And I'll give you a freebee in exchange for some information...Agent," you said in a mock sinister voice.

"Oh yeah, what's that?" he replied, giving you an overly suspicious sideways glance, one eyebrow raised. You smiled at him as you replied in your normal tones.

"I want to mix up my repertoire a little. Do you have any good recipes from home you could share?" His look of puppy-like eagerness was almost too much for your heart to take.

"Oh I absolutely do! I love to bake and I gotta say, you guys are sleeping on some amazing stuff. You don't have Cinnabon here. What's with that?!" He caught himself and looked slightly awkward. "Uhhh I mean, I'm sure the stuff you bake is way better than that sugary and over processed mass produced nonsense!"

"You miss it, don't you?"

"So much," he sighed sadly, nodding. "Its become a slight obsession at this point!" By now you had crossed over the river and were approaching Westminster Bridge, the imposing view of the neo-gothic structure of the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben to your left. You stopped briefly to take in the sight and snap a picture. "Wait, which one of us is the tourist?" he joked.

"I know, its silly. I have a thousand pictures of this view, but I still love it. I was born here and I've lived here all my life but I still don't get tired of certain things. Being smushed into a stranger's armpit on the tube gets old quickly, but not this kind of stuff."

"Here," he said, gesturing for you to give your phone to him. "Let's make this view a little different this time. Get in." As you gave your phone over to him, he turned so his back was to the landmark, making a ridiculous duck face as he did so. Your shoulder rested lightly against his upper arm and you copied his expression as he snapped the picture. You turned your head to grin at him.

"I'll send it to you. You've got to let your friends back home know that you're seeing all the sights, right?" There it was again, that momentary flash of deep sadness. Your heart squeezed in your chest when you saw it. Someone as sweet as him didn't deserve to be unhappy. He looked away from you briefly as he passed your phone back to you and by the time his eyes met your face again, the sorrow had vanished.

"My friends are all FBI agents. They wouldn't know fun if it hit them in the face," he joked as you resumed walking beside the river. "So...you've always lived here?"

"Various places within London, but yes-always here."

"So you know all the less touristy places to go, right? Where would you recommend?"

"There's a few places I can think of off the top of my head, but I can show you one of my favourite walks now if you have another couple of hours free. It could be like a little personal tour of some of my favourite bits of the city. I'll tell you right now that if you don't like them, there are no refunds." He smiled widely at that.

"Sounds like fun. Lead the way." You ended up walking for another couple of hours, hugging the Thames and passing the National Theatre, the Globe and swinging by Borough Market as the traders were starting to pack up, managing to finagle some tasters of cheese and a little mead as you went. Then crossing over London Bridge before approaching the magnificence of St Paul's Cathedral. As you went, you talked about your lives. You learnt where he was from, how he had come to join the FBI and why he chose to specialise in the field he had ended up in. Interspersed with your chatter about each other, you divulged what history you knew of the places you passed and he seemed genuinely interested in what you told him. At the front steps of St. Paul's you joined the ranks of the other groups that were dotted around and sat to rest for a bit. The sun was beginning to set and you pulled your cardigan a little closer around you as the air began to chill. Of course, Marcus noticed immediately. "Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?" He was already moving to pull it from his shoulders as he spoke. God, he really was perfect.

"I'm fine, but thank you for the offer," you said gratefully. The day spent with him had been incredible and you really did not want it to end, but by the time you got home now, you would have to go straight to bed in order to get a decent sleep before work tomorrow. As if he could read your mind, Marcus spoke again, with a soft smile on his face.

"I've had such an awesome day today, thank you. And I promise I'm not trying to get rid of you, but I'm just concerned about how much sleep you're going to get before your early start tomorrow. Should we maybe think about calling it a night?" Sighing a little, you reluctantly agreed with him and set off toward Blackfriars Station, where you would go your separate ways. You were a little nervous about saying goodbye. If he was being truthful and not just polite, then he had seemed to have a good a time as you. He hadn't made any sort of move on you, nor had he even flirted unless you counted the good-natured teasing that had flown back and forth between you. So you still had no idea if a "proper" date was something he would be interested in and after how he had reacted before, you weren't sure if you were brave enough to try again. You decided to wait and see, let him dictate how you would say goodbye and if he wanted to see you again as a friend, or possibly as more. After you went through the barriers at the station, you turned to face him and thanked him for his company and the fun time you had had.

"Pleasure was all mine," he replied. "If work ever let me have time off, we should do it again sometime?"

"I'd like that a lot," you agreed with a grin. "Let's arrange something soon."

He smiled back at you before saying, "Uh, I never know how to end stuff like this so why don't you just bring it in here?" He opened his arms wide for a hug and you gladly went to him. Time seemed to slow for you. The top of your head only came up to the bottom of his cheek, so you had to tilt your head and put your chin on his shoulder to avoid your face being squashed into him. Not that you would have minded. You could definitely smell his cologne now, fainter than it had been earlier in the day but mixed with the detergent smell of his clothes, and a slight musk of his own that was far more appealing to you. His arms were strong as they circled your upper back and gave you a quick squeeze. Ensuring your own hands weren't too far down his body, you squeezed him back. Even through the leather of his jacket, you could tell he was pretty solid under that t-shirt (as you had suspected), and you resisted your sudden urge to run your hands over his stomach with great difficulty. He gave amazing hugs. Another positive to add to the growing list. Aside from the glaring "I don't know if he's attracted to me", there was nothing negative about him that you could see yet. You released each other and waved goodbye a little awkwardly again, after an exchange of promises that you would let the other know you got home safely.

The phrase "stuff like this" haunted you for the next few days as you dissected it in every conceivable way, trying to work out what was going on between you and Marcus. The one glaring topic that hadn't been discussed between you was relationships. You had no idea of his status, past or present. Nor did you have any idea of his orientation. You were messaging back and forth pretty frequently now, but sadly had yet to come to an agreement about when the next time you could meet was. You assumed he must be working his case pretty hard because he seemed to be telling you he was home later and later. The third day after you had seen him for the second time, Catherine spoke up.

"Alright, what's going on?" You gave her a puzzled look.

"I don't know what you mean."

"I mean who is it? This person you keep messaging? Are you seeing someone? What are they like?"

"I...No...I'm not...its not like that." You could feel a blush start to heat your cheeks as you tripped over your explanations. Catherine merely raised an eyebrow at you, remaining silent and letting you dig yourself into a little hole of embarrassment. "Okay, fine. I met someone. Kind of. I've only met him twice but he's sweet and funny and amazingly good looking. I just don't know if he likes me in that way."

"So ask him?"

"It's a little tricky. I kind of did ask him out the first time I met him and he went a little weird. So I don't know if there's an ex in the picture or something, or if he just doesn't find me attractive and is too polite to tell me, but I don't want to push it again. And besides, he's an American here for work, so even if we did go out it wouldn't be long term." Catherine snorted with amusement.

"If he's as good looking as you say, who cares if its long term?" You rolled your eyes at her and smiled as you got up the picture Marcus had taken of you both in front of the Houses of Parliament and showed it to her. She stepped forward and took your phone, her eyes wide and a cartoon-like lecherous expression on her face. "I stand by what I said - you need to get on this! If he's not here for a long time, who cares if you make a fool of yourself? The worst he can say is no." She made a lot of sense and you were still trying to think of the best way to tell Marcus how attracted you were to him without sounding either perverse or desperate when you were at home that evening. You would have preferred to actually go out with him properly but if he wasn't going to be here forever, you couldn't afford to get too emotionally attached. The fact that your stomach squirmed every time you saw that he had messaged you, coupled with the fact that you were thinking about him almost non-stop in between his messages was something you were trying very hard to ignore for this exact reason. Just as you sat down with dinner, a message flashed on your screen.

"Got a break in the case! Finally! Are you free over the weekend at all?"

"I'm off Sunday again, if that's any good? Any preference about where to go?"

"Sunday's great! And I don't really have a preference as such, but I think after working on this for so long I'm not about to look at more art just now."

The days seemed interminable. Even though messages were still flying back and forth between Marcus and yourself, it wasn't the same as seeing him and actually being around him. And he was still being nothing more than friendly toward you, though to be fair you had restrained yourself from saying anything flirtatious either. It was beginning to drive you a little bit nuts that you still had no idea if he had any feelings toward you, but you imagined that after this meeting you would have a better idea. You had decided to bring him to Hampstead Heath. It was about as far away from a gallery as you could get - hundreds of acres of nature with woodlands and lakes and some of your favourite views over London. You had also decided to make him a little surprise. After his comments about Cinnabon, you had begun to work on a recipe for cinnamon rolls. Catherine had loved your first attempts and insisted you make some for the shop, just to see if they would prove popular with customers. Thursday's batch flew off the shelves and so you found yourself preparing and baking more on Friday. You were in a good mood. The sun was shining, the pastries smelled delicious, you had one of your favourite playlists blaring and you would see Marcus again in a couple of days. You sang as you worked and didn't hear Catherine calling you until she was right inside the kitchen and practically yelling.

"Hey! You have a visitor!" She smirked at you and waggled her eyebrows and your heart leapt as you guessed whom it might be. Taking a moment to wash your hands and take your hair net off, you hoped you didn't look too red and flustered from the heat of the kitchen. It was indeed Marcus, with a grin on his face and twinkles in his eyes. He was clearly dressed for work today and you noted with approval how good he looked in his suit. You noticed that he looked a little more tired than the last time you had seen him, and you hoped he was taking care of himself properly with regards to food and sleep.

"Hey," he greeted you. "I haven't really had time to drop by before, but I wanted to see this famous place I've heard so much about!" You grinned back and Catherine moved herself around you, ensuring she was in your line of vision, her meaning clear. You took the hint and introduced them.

"Why don't you take a coffee break?" Catherine suggested. "We aren't that busy." She took Marcus's order and busied herself behind the counter, clearly wanting to eavesdrop on your conversation.

"So...a break in your case?" you asked.

"Yeah, its...well I cant talk too much about it, but for now its kind of out of my hands and with another department. So I finally have a little more time to myself."

"That's good. I felt like they were working you too hard to be honest."

"Ah well, liaising with different offices, different time zones. You know how it is."

You nodded as you said "I really don't," and he chuckled again, his dimple flashing invitingly. Catherine put your coffees in front of you and turned to you with a pointed expression on her face.

"Didn't you have something you uh...wanted to give Marcus?" You looked up at her with your eyes wide and a horrified expression emerging on your face until you realised she meant the pastries in the oven. They would be done about now. You hoped your initial misunderstanding at what exactly you would like to give Marcus hadn't shown too clearly on your face. You gave him a brief sideways glance, not daring to meet his gaze properly.

"Back in a mo," you said. As you cut up and plated the fresh cinnamon buns and put a few in a box for him to take away, you were really, really hoping that Catherine wouldn't say anything suggestive to Marcus. She was bold and brash and said what was on her mind without a care what people thought of her. But she was also your friend and she wouldn't divulge your secrets without your permission. She might, however, try to get some information from him about his relationship status or something similar and you didn't really want that either. Curious as you were, he hadn't brought it up yet for a reason and you were inclined to trust that he would one day, if he ever felt comfortable with you. As you re-entered the room, Catherine and Marcus were both looking at pictures on Catherine's phone. She looked up at you as you came in.

"I'm just showing him the cake you made for Jas's birthday."

"This is amazing!" he exclaimed, not taking his eyes from the phone. "Do I get a Star Wars cake too?"

"No," you said. "But you do get a taste of home if I've done this right." You set the plate down in front of him next to his coffee and his mouth fell open. "Its not quite Cinnabon," you admitted. "But hopefully it will tide you over." He looked up at you and his eyes were so soft you almost melted right there and then.

"This is...Thank you. Thank you so much," you could hear his voice was a little strangled, as though he were trying to keep a tight lid on his emotions.

"Don't thank me till you've tried it," you joked. "They might be terrible!" He smiled then, his eyes still slightly misty and took a small piece. His eyes closed and his head tipped back in pleasure and your mind went into overdrive imagining all the other things you could do to elicit that kind of response from him.

"Oh my gooood," he groaned, a reaction which did not help your situation. "That. Is. Incredible." He took another piece and pushed it into his mouth, sucking his thumb of the icing that had come away as he did so. Your mind and body were reacting far beyond what they should have been at these simple gestures, even if they were made overtly sexual purely by how attractive you found him. You reached for your coffee cup and took a healthy swig - anything to put some distance between you and the lustful thoughts that were currently careening through your brain. You risked a look at Catherine who looked like she was trying not to die laughing at your facial expressions. She brought herself under control with a little difficulty.

"She made some for you to take away too. If there's too many feel free to bring them to work and share them. Could be good publicity for us."

"Well I don't want to deprive you of your publicity but honestly, there is no way in hell I am sharing these." He turned his eyes back to you. "Way better than Cinnabon," he confirmed, making you smile again. After he had finished his coffee and departed with his box of cakes in hand (with a promise to message you later), you turned to Catherine.

"So?" you asked.

"One - gorgeous. Two - incredibly sweet. Three - funny. Four - gorgeous." She enumerated on her fingers as she spoke. "If you don't go for it, I will. Husband be damned!" Sunday still seemed like light years away, but you had made up your mind to go for it and ask Marcus out properly and you found that your nervousness made time seem to move in bizarre skips, so that it felt like it was moving both quickly and slowly somehow. Still, before you knew it the two of you were sitting on your favourite bench on Hampstead Heath, looking down over London's skyline.

"I can understand why you don't get tired of this," he murmured softly. "This is beautiful." His words torched a spark of pride in you, filling your heart and making you brave. You were going to do it.

"Marcus." He turned the beam of his beautiful eyes on you and you faltered slightly in their glow. "I...um. This is going to sound weird."

"Its ok. Weird can be good. Just say it," he reassured you as he turned his body to face you, his elbow resting lightly on the back of the bench.

"Well I was just going to say...we've talked about a lot of things over the past couple of weeks and I think we've gotten to know each other fairly well."

"We have," he agreed, his voice deep and rich.

"Well, I was just wondering-" This was it. You had to do it. "-if maybe-" Come on. So nearly there. "-we could-" You couldn't. You swerved. "-talk about relationships." Goddammit. His forehead wrinkled in surprise.

"Uhhh, what, um, what do you mean?"

"I mean that we've talked about jobs and education and families and upbringing and hobbies and stuff. But we've never talked about relationships. That is...do you have relationships or do you prefer your own company?" You could feel the heat in your cheeks. This was excruciating and you wished you'd never brought it up. But as ever, Marcus was kind and he answered your questions without rancour and without mentioning your embarrassment.

"No, I've had relationships. I've been married and divorced once already. No kids. Just...we stopped being able to work together. There was no real blame on either side. I met her very young and...well we were probably too young." The revelation that he had an ex-wife was enormous to you and you hoped you didn't look as shocked and gormless as you felt. His face closed suddenly and it was as if a blind had been drawn behind his eyes when he said, "I was engaged more recently but that didn't work out either. She um...well she-" Whatever he had been about to reveal to you was lost in the sound of his phone pinging. "Excuse me a sec," he said as he pulled it out of his pocket, and you thought you detected a note of relief in his voice. So...now you knew. He was still clearly getting over whatever idiot had decided to let him go. She must have hurt him badly and your gut gave a twist of anger on his behalf. You looked across at him and a small smile was playing around his lips as he answered the message he had got. He put his phone back in his pocket and apologised to you. "Sorry. I don't mean to be rude. Its just there's this woman in another department that I met when I started working over here and she seemed pretty keen to go out with me and a few days ago I just thought what the hell, right? You only live once." The smile that had stretched across your face felt gossamer thin and ready to crack at any moment as your insides seemed to plummet and coalesce somewhere in the region of your feet.

"Yeah, what the hell," you echoed faintly. You were too late. Too slow. And somehow he had broken your heart without you ever realising you had given it to him in the first place.

Next Chapter

[pukanavis]

Main Story - Chapter 2 Part 3 “Under Battle”

Alto: Ah..ahem. I’ll run through an explaination of "under battles" again.

Cobalt: Okay!

Alto: The climb stages at Babel are evaluated in real time by the audience, correct?

If you surpass the set criteria, you’ll pass and if you don't, you’ll fail…that's the kind of system Babel runs on.

Chrom: Indeed. All this is explained in the “Babel Guidebook” that Mr. Denta sent us after we registered.

There are even situations where you will be forced to stop performing during the middle of a live if you receive too many poor votes…

Kei: That’s pretty harsh.

Alto: It is. In short, the climb stage runs on a system that involves meeting a set number of points–

Under battles, however, are a system that involves units battling against one another.

You vote for which of the two units' performances you liked the most…and from that, the victor and loser is determined.

The Babel administration has no relation to the under battles and there’s battle venues set up by civilians all over the place.

Chrom: It sounds like an excellent place to settle quarrels between climbers.

Alto: Yes, it seems that way, but…

Cobalt: But?

Alto: It’s outside the eyes of Babel so there’s somewhat of a shady feel to it. Things can turn sour…

It also depends on the participating climbers but…if things get even a little dangerous, we should leave immediately.

Kei: We’ll be in and out before you know it.

Neon: …Oh. Is that it over there?

Alto: It seems so. I wonder if those two from earlier are already there.

♡　♡　♡

Cobalt: Woah~...!

Chrom: It’s quite busy here. I didn’t expect to see such a large audience.

Alto: Oh good…this place doesn’t seem like it’ll pose any danger.

Neon: There’s pictures drawn on that wall…

Alto: Oh, the graffiti? If I recall correctly, these types of illustraions are called "street art". Venues like this often have these sorts of artwork.

Neon: Hmm…

Kei: The crowd’s full of androids and…what’s that little thing flying around?

Alto: It’s someone’s drone. Humans use the cameras so that they can watch too.

Chrom: There’s a number of humans in the audience wearing capes as well…

Alto: Many of the more passionate fans often come to watch in person. Watching through a screen just isn’t the same as experiencing it for yourself.

Cobalt: Doctor, have you ever come to watch one of these before?

Alto: Yes, a few times. Some of the main climbers also participate in under battles, so…

Silve: They made it!! Oiii!! Over here!!

Auru: …

Cobalt: Ah! Silve, Auru–

???: Oh my? Could you be the new climbers I’ve heard so much about!?

???: Wow~ they’re really here~

Kei: Are these guys friends of yours?

Silve: This is Lana and Zin! They’re my friends from “Mechanica Metallica” !!

Lana: PT-1017WG/Lana. Nice to meet you ♪

Zin: I’m ZN-1001HM/Zin. Hello~

Lana: Hmm~...by the way…

Neon: …?

Chrom: Is something wrong? You started staring at us all of a sudden…

Lana: …Oh! Just as I thought, the four of you are excellent material!

Kei: Hah?

Lana: I was shocked while watching that video of you~! You looked sooo cool! Your singing and dancing was very sexy too–!

Especially…you, the pink one! You’re Neon, right?

Neon: !?

Lana: Say, are you interested in fashion!? I have a lot of clothes I think would look amazing on you!

Neon: Oi, you’re too close…!

Alto: H-Hey! You’re stressing out Neon!

Lana: Oh dear, I’m sorry. I got a little carried away…

Neon: He’s weird…

Lana: You’re a human, aren’t you? Are you these four’s developer?

Alto: I’m not…rather, I’m somewhat of a guardian to them.

Cobalt: Doctor is our doctor. They were the one that woke us up!

Lana: Woke you up…? Sounds like there's a story there.

Anyhow, as I said, I’m Lana. Nice to meet you.

Auru: …We’re running out of time. The crowd is waiting.

Silve: You’re right! Oii! Referee, please!

Junk Denta: YYYEEEEAAAAHHH!! It’s time to battle–!!!!

Cobalt: Woah! Weren’t you at Babel too?

Chrom: Isn’t this…Mr. Denta? Although, the design is different from the one at Babel…

Silve: Hm? You don't know Junk Denta?

Cobalt: Junk…Denta?

Alto: He’s the referee for under battles. There’s one at every venue.

They seem to be custom made from old or broken down models that were going to be discarded.

Junk Denta: HEY, you bastards!! Let’s crush our opponents full force again today–!!

Auru: …I guess he’s gotta be even more noisy than the original to match up with the venue.

Neon: Could be worse…

Silve: Alright, let’s get to it! We’ll go first, okay?

I want to show you guys Mechanica Metallica’s performance too!

Cobalt: Sure! I can’t wait to hear Silve and the others’ song!

Junk Denta: YES!! It’s decided!! Take the stage Mechanica Metallica!!

Lana: Let’s go, everyone!

Zin: Okay~! Ehehe, keep your eyes on us~

Cobalt: I wonder what kind of song Silve and the others will perform!?

Kei: Don’t act as excited as you normally do. They’re our opponents from now on.

Chrom: Even so, it is rather interesting. What kind of performance could they be planning…

Neon: …

Alto: It’s starting.

♡　♡　♡

Alto: Amazing…

(This music is addictive…! It's such a peculiar sound, but hearing it one time is enough to never forget it…)

(I’ve never seen something like this before. Even though this is a regular performance, they have the talent to clear a bronze stage…!

Cobalt: Wow~...!

Chrom: I see, this is another type of music that’s out there…

Kei: …So they weren’t just all talk, huh?

Neon: …Mhm.

Alto: You guys are up next. Are you ready?

Cobalt: We’ve got this! I can’t wait to get up on stage!

Alto: Very well, in that case…good luck!

♡　♡　♡

Alto: Huh…?

(They didn’t…make a mistake did they? They had the choreography and lyrics down…)

(But…what could it be? It’s like…there’s something missing…?)

(There’s something about Mechanic Metallica that entices the viewer, but…)

Junk Denta: OKAYYY! The audience votes are in!! Time to announce the results–!!

“KNoCC” –3.8%! And for “Mechanica Metallica” –96.2%!!

Alto: …!!

Junk Denta: What a huge gap!! HAHA! Total annihilation!!

Come back some time!! We’ll be waiting for your revenge–!

Cobalt: Hey, we…

Kei: …Yeah.

Chrom: This is difficult to say…

Neon: …Something…wasn’t right.

Audience: Well, this is what happens.

I dunno if they’re some new climbers or something, but that standard is just–

Cobalt: I see…

We lost.

Prev | Next

[ashtrayfloors]

2020 Book List

An incomplete list of books I read in 2020 (not counting books I started but haven’t finished yet, or books I reread only sections of, or zines), divided into fiction, non-fiction, and poetry categories. Some of these books are hybrid works, in which case I put them into the category I felt they best fit into. An asterisk means it was a reread. I’ve bolded the ones I particularly loved. I’ve also included links to quotations/excerpts from some of them.

Fiction

Shine of the Ever, by Claire Rudy Foster

A Cathedral of Myth and Bone, by Kat Howard

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, by Ocean Vuong

The Mythic Dream, edited by Dominik Parisien and Navah Wolfe

We Had No Rules, by Corinne Manning

The Faery Reel: Tales from the Twilight Realm, edited by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling

The Haunting of Hill House, by Shirley Jackson

In a Lonely Place, by Dorothy B. Hughes

And I Do Not Forgive You: Stories & Other Revenges, by Amber Sparks

The Necrophiliac, by Gabrielle Wittkop

Before and Afterlives, by Christopher Barzak

Finding Baba Yaga: A Short Novel in Verse, by Jane Yolen

Wild Milk, by Sabrina Orah Mark

Nonfiction

Aim and Wish, by A.L. Staveley

Make It Scream, Make It Burn, by Leslie Jamison

After Confession: Poetry as Autobiography, edited by Kate Sontag and David Graham

The Poem That Changed America: “Howl” Fifty Years Later, edited by Jason Shinder

Boss Broad, by Megan Volpert

Go Ahead in the Rain: Notes to a Tribe Called Quest, by Hanif Abdurraqib

A Field Guide to Getting Lost, by Rebecca Solnit*

100 Times: A Memoir of Sexism, by Chavisa Woods

Recollections of My Nonexistence, by Rebecca Solnit

In the Dream House, by Carmen Maria Machado

Erosion: Essays of Undoing, by Terry Tempest Williams

The Thorn Necklace: Healing Through Writing and the Creative Process, by Francesca Lia Block

Tracing the Desire Line: A Memoir in Essays, by Melissa Mathewson

What is the Grass: Walt Whitman in My Life, by Mark Doty

Dancing at the Devil’s Party: Essays on Poetry, Politics, and the Erotic, by Alicia Ostriker

Censorship Now!!, by Ian F. Svenonius

Funny Weather: Art in an Emergency, by Olivia Laing

Madness, Rack, and Honey: Collected Lectures, by Mary Ruefle

The Wet Collection, by Joni Tevis

Black and Blue: The Bruising Passion of Camera Lucida, La Jetee, Sans soleil, and Hiroshima mon amour, by Carol Mavor

In the Blue Pharmacy: Essays on Poetry and Other Transformations, by Marianne Boruch

Jane: A Murder, by Maggie Nelson

Mean, by Myriam Gurba

I’ll Be Gone in the Dark: One Woman’s Obsessive Search for the Golden State Killer, by Michelle McNamara

Dime-Store Alchemy: The Art of Joseph Cornell, by Charles Simic

Waking the Witch: Reflections on Women, Magic, and Power, by Pam Grossman

The Art of Recklessness, by Dean Young

Poetry

An American Sunrise, by Joy Harjo

Stay, by Tanya Olson

Be Recorder, by Carmen Giménez Smith

Soft Targets, by Deborah Landau

No Matter, by Jana Prikryl

The Obliterations, by Matt Hart

Made in Detroit, by Marge Piercy 

Walking Distance, by Debra Allbery

Exploding Chippewas, by Mark Turcotte

Neon Vernacular, by Yusef Komunyakaa

The Jazz Poetry Anthology, edited by Sascha Feinstein and Yusef Komunyakaa

Black Milk, by Tory Dent

A Fortune for Your Disaster, by Hanif Abdurraqib

Witch, by Rebecca Tamás

The Carrying, by Ada Limón

Homie, by Danez Smith

The Wendys, by Allison Benis White

Babel, by Patti Smith*

Alive Together, by Lisel Mueller

Night Sky with Exit Wounds, by Ocean Vuong

Advice from the Lights, by Stephanie Burt

This Is Not a Frank Ocean Cover Album, by Alan Chazaro

Blood on Blood, by Devin Kelly

American Sonnets for My Past and Future Assassin, by Terrance Hayes

Teahouse of the Almighty, by Patricia Smith

Fantasia for the Man in Blue, by Tommye Blount

Louise in Love, by Mary Jo Bang

Come the Slumberless to the Land of Nod, by Traci Brimhall

The Queer Body Anthology, edited by Yes, Poetry

Wolf Face, by Matt Hart

Living Room, by June Jordan

Trickster Feminism, by Anne Waldman

Here is the Sweet Hand, by Francine J. Harris

Dead Girls, by Francesca Lia Block

Inside the Wolf, by Niamh Boyce

I live in the country & other dirty poems, by Arielle Greenberg

The Death Metal Pastorals, by Ryan Patrick Smith

Bestiary of Gall, by Emilia Phillips

Toxicon and Arachne, by Joyelle McSweeney

Blood Box, by Zefyr Lisowski

Indictus, by Natalie Eilbert

This Is Still Life, by Tracy Mishkin

The Time Unraveller’s Travel Journal, by Upfromsumdirt

Love Poems, by Pablo Neruda

Excerpts from a Secret Prophecy, by Joanna Klink

Sorry for Your Troubles, by Pádraig Ó Tuama

Saranac Lake Ghost Poems, by Maurice Kenny

Light-Headed, by Matt Hart

The Tiny Jukebox, by Nate Slawson

Sham City, by Evan Harrison

Modern and Normal, by Karen Solie

My Tall Handsome, by Emily Corwin

When My Brother Was an Aztec, by Natalie Diaz

Guidebooks for the Dead, by Cynthia Cruz

Dandarians, by Lee Ann Roripaugh

Her book, by Éireann Lorsung

44 Poems for You, by Sarah Ruhl

Imaginary Menagerie, by Ailbhe Darcy

The Girl Aquarium, by Jen Campbell

Still Life with Two Dead Peacocks and a Girl, by Diane Seuss*

War of the Foxes, by Richard Siken

[azure-et-aurum-blog]

Rules: Tag Nine People You want to get to know better

Tagged by: @jadestormbrand and @atsukanedaito, thank you

Relationship status: The law recognizes me as if I was married

Favorite Color: Red (Yes, it’s red. No, not blue. Red.)

Lipstick or Chapstick: Eh? Well, I don’t wear any, and I don’t have any preferences in my partner’s case.

Last Song I listened to: Bon Jovi - Have a Nice Day

Last Movie I watched: 007 Casino Royale (for the 134134236546th time)

Top 3 TV Shows: Now? The Flash, Legends of Tomorrow and Adventure Time. But from all time? I’d have to go with Samurai Jack, Megas XLR and Regular Show.

Top 3 Characters: Vash the Stampede (Trigun), Folken Lacour de Fanel (Escaflowne) and Masaru Hananakajima (Sexy Commando Gaiden: Sugoi-yo!! Masaru-San)

Top 3 Bands/Artist: By skill/talent? Steve n’ Seagulls, The Darkness and The Black Keys. By preference? Bon Jovi, Aerosmith and U2.

Books I’m Currently Reading: Actually, that I’m trying to read. I need to read a Romance trilogy called “Filhos do Eden” (Children of Eden), by a brazilian author called Eduardo Spohr. It’s about the politics, influence and conflicts between angels, and how they affected the mortals. It’s pretty awesome, a well built world and setting, and now it has a guidebook for roleplaying at D&D and a RPG system created by the author. This same author has another book set in this same setting, called Batalha do Apocalypse (Battle of the Apocalypse) that narrates the story of a Fallen Angel called Ablon as he wanders the world and eyewitness the most important parts of History, including the fall of Babel, Jesus’ birth (one of the best parts of the book, actually), the World Wars and such. It’s a shame that so far it doesn’t have an English translation, but I recommend to anyone that knows portuguese.

Tagging: @celestial-opposition, @lady-of-crowns, @ahlis-xiv, @nati-kun, @bloodfenrir, @aetherochemistry, @defender-of-love-nonora, @housefortempsknight and @rhinra, if you already did I’m sorry >D

[synthy-sizer]

You reach out and take hold of the guidebook, gently lifting it from the angel’s hand. It’s odd, you would have noticed the book in its hand, surely. Regardless, you are thankful for the angel’s help, and with it connected to your computer you feel more confident than ever that you can find the clues you need in Genesis. You should sit at your DESK and prepare to read.

Go to desk>

You sit in your desk chair once again, pulling it up to your desk. All you have to do now is open your guidebook once again, and READ Genesis, just as SiderealPeon recommended.

Read Genesis>

You set the book down and open it, flipping pages till you reach the right entry. Navigating the confusing mess of notes, crossed out and rewritten sections and scrambled codes, you finally approach a pasted-over page with handwritten notes about the contents of the passage.

“In the beginning, all that existed was a sea of waves, an entire endless universe in which souls existed as frequencies, harmoniously living in the garden of Eden with the almighty God. Although the souls of humans existed in a fluid state, free of sin and individuality, humanity sought out borders, and free will. It is for this reason that God chose to punish the life He created by granting them exactly what they asked for, and cast them out of Eden. It is then that God created the lower universe, a world separated from the waves and frequencies of the holy land, where humans had bodies and structure and were unable to perfectly connect and bond with one another. Although humanity may be able to connect superficially and develop this lower world, it will never and can never be the same as the realm now known as Heaven. Even so, humanity lives to spite their creator, and will one day develop a Tower of Babel to harness the natural world they emerged from, and attempt to reach into Godhood. It is then, for defying God, that they will be struck down and separated. This action is inevitable as mankind by nature seeks to reach into the realm of heaven, and the power and wisdom of God, even though this act is a perversion that defiles the holy land.”

The entire page is much easier to consume now, but although you have read the content, it’s hard to glean any clues. Perhaps you need more of the details? The abridged version of the passage, something which compacts many pages into a single note, is useful for gathering the broad strokes but the finer details will require some more thorough study. You scrutinize the finer details, skimming over the many notes.

Read>

"The development of technology which uses Heaven as a medium is, of course, a perversion of the holy land, and an egregious sin. Why God seeks not to punish this behavior directly is unknown, however it is believed that God works in mysterious ways, and that perhaps He plans for humanity to decide for themselves if they seek to truly become Godlike or not. When humanity inevitably follows their nature, to seek being equal to their creator, it is said that the Tower of Babel, that is the Internet, will bring about the end of the world."

You nod along, refreshing yourself on the information, doing your best to process potential hints about the prophetic teachings. However, despite the more detailed information, it would be hard to figure out which details are significant and how to lay them out in a way that allows you to access Eden. You need more direction. Perhaps the ANGEL has answers?

Talk to angel>

You turn to face the angel, telling it that you are lost once more, finally able to process the information but unable to find a way to organize it into the answers you need. Despite this, the angel is completely silent, and shows no signs of movement whatsoever. No matter how long you stare at the screen of its head, trying to scrutinize it for answers, it simply responds with a void. You vaguely recall that the angel stated that it was impossible for you to comprehend its words with its own voice and presence, and that it uses your INSTANT MESSENGER as a bridge. Maybe it can't even see or hear you from its "real" body?

Use instant messenger>

NEXT

PREVIOUS

[starrystarrygames]

Game Dev Log #2

Hi, Qi here, writing a dev log in my turn for the first time. If you find something odd, it’s a little bit of joke. 

Eh what? This is only the second one and it’s been over a year since last update?

Hmm, sorry about the delay. And long time no post on Weibo and Twitter either… Not a procrastinator! We are just getting things more ready for a showcase, whatever… Well, forget it!

Anyway, let’s get back with a passion for the log.

Now let’s talk about our latest internal demo. pause Yes, we made it here with all this hard work, a complete demo version! It’s internal, not for players yet… Disappointed? No worries, a public demo will be right after that.

Thanks for Waiting: A Guidebook of Babel

ahem Thanks for the demo, this is our first step on Babel. We plan to reach the deck before the Monsoon. By the way, please do not try to get aboard by yourself! The only choice you can make is flying puffer. Pardon? What is a flying puffer? Well, please check it out in our previous posts! Found nothing? Oh… Sorry. I’ll add a reminder. Thanks.

The Monsoon

We have designed a episode here to test on gameplay and playability. The episode features Mr Javet, the coach of the Swimmers, and Mr Tomas, the mysterious guy. Welcome. And, in addition, Mr Breath. Come, Mr Breath, up to the stage. Don’t be shy, come.

Qi: Mr Tomas, introduce yourself and your story in the act.

Tomas: Oh, my pleasure. I must keep my secret identity for now, hehe… I came to the deck seeking the parts, which is, hehehe… Phew. That was close. No more spoilers since Mr Javet is here.

Tomas on a Secret Mission

Qi: Al-alright… So, Mr Javet, it’s your turn.

Javet: The Swimmers received a search order for an incident on the deck. And then, huh, as I expected. When you smell something fishy, humph.

Qi: It’s usually THE Tomas?

Javet: Exactly. It was him. Dammit…

Unexpected on the Deck 

Qi: Okay. Thank you all, And good luck to Mr Javet. Next, Mr Breath? What the heck. Has anyone seen Mr Breath?

Er… Thanks. In brief, we will witness a hide-and-seek game of Mr. Javet and Mr. Tomas in the demo. You can play the part of Tomas and try to escape from the Swimmers. While our unfortunate Mr Breath, another protagonist in the whole story, has always been involved in many incidents. No exception this time.

“Mr Key” — Breath

I said we built the demo for gameplay test, right? So you think your hundred-hour experience from adventure game puzzles would probably help? However, we are glad to remind you of the “Mission Failed” popup.

Confused? Hey, remember the hint from our narrator, Mr Antoine. Note the clues! Every clue exists for some reason. Imagine how to manipulate the story, which is the important thing. Yes, the key that underlies these stages — Butterfly Effect! Make use of it, and their fate is right on your fingertips!

Clues and Events Recorded in the Guidebook

That’s it. Refresh your mind and take it as an all-new experience instead of a cliché!

On our side, this demo truly means a form of our gameplay, scenario, art style and game framework. It is our base standard for further development, rather than just a 20-minute prototype demo. All the time we spent proved to be worthy…

Well, we did experience a frustration in the last year. Forget about it. The previous demo was so messy that we spent four months to get it right!… Uh? Didn’t I mention the previous version? Really?… Jeez, screwed up… I didn’t mean to make a disillusion.

Finally, a Simple Makeup

Well… It’s impossible to stay out of any trouble. Fortunately we have settled the matter. Thanks for the critical advice from our friends. Thanks a lot, really.

One more thing. Based on our story structure, a more detailed and refined scenario is in progress. You want some leaks? Hey, I’m not a spoiler, and I’m good at keeping secret! In a few words? Okay, a few words… The full story would be tightly packed… Does it make any sense? Forgive me.

Challenges and difficulties, umm… Funds, and… Crew member, probably. Of course, we do like new teammates! But funds also matter. We are welcoming! Or maybe crowdfunding… ahem Necessary for advertising. Good luck to me. Frankly, we don’t want to take too long time, but most of all, quality is the point. Don’t worry.

Focus on Development! Or an Irritated Little Will!

That’s all. Writing a dev log like this is unexpectedly relaxing for me, surprised. Oh, don’t forget my own profession! It was like I had almost switched to a full-time blogger!

So much for today. Thanks for reading. We would be appreciated if you like it. I’ll put aside my keyboard and grab my pen tablet. May inspiration flash on Babel! Have a nice day!

[shogunchelios]

Seven Sins: A Discussion and Ranking

When I was 17, I declared myself an atheist and went along my merry way. twenty years later, I merry'd my way back to the discussion because it turns out, there's more to it than that. The whole concept of god and the afterlife and guardian angels and devils is too fantastical for me. I thought that was what being in a religion was about. believing all the crazy parts of the holy books as literal. it wasn't until I started to introspect full blast (because I was fully blasted on the ganja) that I understood what religion truly was. The real meat (that you can't eat on fridays) of religion is to provide a structure, a rulebook for life. Being an angsty teenager, I didn't mind throwing that out along with the supernatural stuff. How dare you impose rules on me? I'm a legal adult! Now that I've been developing into an actual adult, I see that rules aren't things to hold us back. It's the rules that make everything work better. Just like the universe wouldn't exist without electromagnetism, weak and strong nuclear forces, and gravity, life doesn't function as well without some restrictions. like in wrestling, the matches aren't as good if the referee just allows anyone to interfere, anyone to get pinned, etc. We fall into chaos when there is no order, which is what Jordan Peterson's book is all about. Last weekend, I was at a family gathering of in-laws and someone there was really into 'the secret.' The dude is even going to come out on the new documentary they're going to put out after the success of the old one. the old one was something i hated because it was so dumb. The video is just folks saying 'well, i just focused my thoughts on checks arriving to my mail, instead of bills, and now a year later, checks are coming in every week!' It's like those workout videos that show a fat person and a muscular person three months later. they leave out the part where the entire lifestyle (diet, sleep, consistent workouts) has to change. the secret left out the part where you still have to do some work. But when the dude started explaining why he enjoyed the secret, most of it was what I read in Jordan Peterson's book (fix yourself first, be grateful for what you have, etc). Which in itself is just a guidebook of rules to follow. It seems non-secular folk spend a lot of time searching out new religions, as long as they're not called religions. The ones I've gravitated to are buddhism (life sucks, so make the best of it) and the self-help corner (make a plan, distract yourself from sucky life with material/emotional successes). none of them have god in them. which makes it tougher because if you have some all-powerful being you're disappointing, it motivates you, especially if he can see you at all times (like santa. didn't like to disappoint him either). But when it's just me I'm disappointing, well, I don't care as much, because who am I to try to impress myself? fuck myself, that guy sucks anyway. which is why my roaring twenties were spent going the opposite way. if there is no god, and it's just me, then fuck it, let me do all the things i shouldn't and see where it gets me! then god is sitting there, like thanos in endgame, telling me 'where did that bring you? back to me. I am inevitable.' Then he caused a huge flood and killed half the population. but it's not all bad. We learn from our experiences and the mistakes teach us the most. I haven't touched a stove burner since I was five and touched it that one time. so, without further ado, here's a ranking of the seven deadly sins in order from worst to best! 7. wrath not too surprising that wrath would end up pretty low on my list, considering my usual happy-go-lucky baseline. it's in there though. i feel it, like when i'm driving somewhere and the asshole in front of me is tapping on their brakes even though there aren't any cars in front of them. or when i want to turn right and the dude in front of me isn't turning on the red light and waits for the green light TO TURN RIGHT. my biggest wish from when i started driving was

that every car had some sorta phone and everyone's carphone number is the same as the license plate. that way, i can call the asshole in front of me and go full sam kinison on them. 'FFFUUUCCCKING GOOOOO YOOU GOODDAMMN MOTHERFUCKER SONOFAFUCKINGBITCHMOTHERFUUUUCKEEEERRRRRRR!' other than the road rage though, i don't partake too often in the fun of wrath. i know i have more in me because at least a couple times of year i have a dream where i'm beating the crap out of somebody. but like, excessively. and it's never anyone very specific. that's why i'm not sure if a memory i have from my youth is real or not. i think i had sent that story already, but when i was about 4 or 5 years old, i was at my grandpa Chorizo's house and i beat the everloving shit out of some neighborhood kid while my brother and uncle egg'd me on. then we never spoke about it again. so was it real or a wrath dream? the world may never know. 6. envy this one would've been ranked higher about 10-15 years ago, right at the height of myspace/facebook/google+ (i swear it almost became a thing! you should've given it a try!). it's not just wanting what others have though. it's also taking pleasure in their misfortune (good ol' schadenfreude [i had to google 'buddhism' to spell it right, yet i got schadenfreude right on the first try, which says a lot about me]). social media and envy are like jerry and beth when they go to the alien marriage counselor. alone, each one is bad, but obvious. together, though, and they're unstoppable, one feeding into the other endlessly. healthier folks can channel their envy into something positive. "i want to go on a cruise too, i'm going to work harder to achieve it!" for unhealthy assholes like me though, it's more "why is this big-bootied chick with that schlub? i'm much handsomer! i should homewreck." but even if it were to happen, at that point, i wouldn't even want that chick anymore. no one wants to be part of a club that would have themselves as a member. the longing and wanting is the best part of envy, which is why it's ranked this low. that part sucks. i like getting what i want and having it. the anticipation is the part i dislike the most. waiting in line brings up my wrath and that takes up way too much energy. 5. pride according to my extensive research (wikipedia), pride is the worst of the worst. the father of all sins. pride leads to every other vice. it is the complete anti-god state of mind. they have the tower of babel as their image to define it. believing we're powerful enough to build a tower high enough to reach god, how dare us? putting ourselves first before all, that's not too good, says the bible/god. but wouldn't that make god prideful? the dude doesn't allow us to put anything else before him, that's the biggest unchecked pride i know of, but i guess when you create existence, you can be full of yourself. my pride is mostly all about my looks, as if it wasn't obvious. sometimes i think i suffer from low self-esteem, but that's mostly about my inside, i feel like i'm a piece of shit. but the outside, i think i've got a decent situation happening. it's that belief that throws gas on my fire of superficiality. no fat chick would ever have a chance with me, because, c'mon, look at me, i can do better than you. that's why i befriended all those fat girls that later were ready to divorce to have a chance at me. i figured 'well, they don't give me boners, so it's totally safe to be charming/flirty.' not even considering that they may be catching feelings and ready to risk it all for a taste of my sweet chocolate lovin. i know, seems like i'm high on pride, so why is it so low? because it's exhausting. i'm constantly in a state of mind of 'i'm the star of the show' as if i'm being filmed for a reality show that's being filmed in secret, truman show style. it's why i alternate hairstyles so often, because i have to keep things fresh for my audience. practicing my facial expressions in the mirror, telling anecdotes to myself ahead of time,

expensive haircuts, it's time consuming. the buddhism helped bring my ego into check. it's about controlling the hungry ghost. or, like in 'community' where the gang go to a party as celebrity impressionists, i was going through a jeff winger inflating apple moment until it burst (britta came up with the metaphor, which to her is 'an idea with another idea's hat on' which is such a perfect metaphor). now, i try to spend less time on my looks, and more time on my rotten insides. 4. greed isn't the quote 'greed is good' (i hate putting punctuation inside quotes when they don't match the quote, so here's a sidenote to make space for the question mark)? i think folks can manage and be decent even if they've got some of that greed in them. It helps them make a lot of money, which they can use for good. unless they have a lot of pride, then maybe not. it's the combinations that get you. the reason I'm ranking greed higher than pride, though, is because i'd definitely rather be rich than handsome. with money, you can hire people to tell you you're good looking. like prostitutes, lots and lots of them. but then you can never get your fill. greed is weird, because i feel like it's the basis for the rest of the sins at the top of the list. wanting more and more of something. i don't have as much greed in me as some of the other ones, so i guess maybe i'd like to have more of it? shit, there just isn't much to say about it. maybe that's why it's in the middle of the list, it's the humpday of sins. yeah, no one likes greedy folks, but everyone would love to have a wealthy friend. so this is one of those sins you can get away with, as long as you don't pair it with pride, or wrath. because then you'd be beating people with sacks of money. let's move on. 3. gluttony i almost ranked gluttony much lower, since i've had a complicated relationship with food. sure, it gives me nourishment, but also, that one time, i got hepatitis from church's chicken. then also, there's the time i smoked, early on, maybe my 3rd or 4th time, and i had sorta had sex with a pizza. now wait, hold up. let me rephrase that. no, let me just start the topic over, because i've had this in my head as a short stand-up comedy act. by a round of applause, how many of y'all here tonight have had sex with food? ok ok, hold on, i think we're all thinking of different things. some of y'all clapped and you're thinking of the classic strawberries being rubbed on your nipples or whatever. no, no, i'm not talking about that kind. nice work, though, keeping it classy. not like the other folks out there. i can see by your face that you're on the other side of the food sex spectrum. not that i'm judging, by all means, more power to you. but, no, i'm not talking about american pie, cut a hole in a melon, condom on a cucumber type of events. but again, you do you, friends. no, what i'm talking about is, have you ever eaten something so delicious that it gave you a boner? halfway through the brooklyn style dominos pizza, i realized that loud heavy breathing was coming from me, and my hips were involuntarily thrusting while i deepthroated the cheese and pepperoni. that's why gluttony got ranked this high. at this point, the sins are just fighting over order of preference. in our barest, most honest versions of heaven/paradise/nirvana, having all our favorite foods is basically near the top. there's only one thing that would stop me from a boner pizza. 2. lust yeah, i know, i figured this was an easy swish for the number one spot. but believe it or not, a lot of care went into this list. trying to figure out how to rank all these activities, I had to come up with criteria. and the first thing i thought of was, what gives me the most pleasure. then i subtracted out how bad i feel before, during, or after the acts. and lust only has the middle part as a high, and the rest not so much. but boy is that high super high. during the act, whether with a partner or solo, there's nothing better. flash a bag of money, a pizza,

pictures of myself, nothing will take me away from it. the problem is that it's too good. once it's over, what else is there? have a cigarette? drink a beer? what's going to bring you up to that same high? what else can compare? that's why whenever you find out someone abstains from drinking and drugs (which both fall under gluttony, i think. another reason it was ranked so high), they're usually addicted to sex or porn. like chris d'elia and all his pervy activities. it can fulfill your every desire. but after the eleven minutes (much love Paolo Coehlo) are done, what's left? if you're in love, then you bask in the love. if it was with a random, then you bask in the awkwardness. and if you were alone, then you bask in the shame. all that basking puts a filter on the goodness. then I also thought about the boner pizza, and the only thing that'd take me away from that pizza is some good ol' fashioned homespun luvin', but the only thing that'd take me away from that good ol' fashioned homespun luvin' is some even better activity. one that can not be replicated. 1. sloth taking a siesta. becoming the devil's plaything. tirando la hueva. i always get mad when folks say 'oh, i love the rainy weather!' because when i ask why anyone would like a gloomy day, they say 'oh because it's great weather to stay in and watch movies!' uh, you can do that shit on sunny days too. you're just looking to be lazy and need an excuse. just be lazy and be done with it. don't evoke mother nature to give yourself an excuse. like the covid overreactors. you know a lot of them acted terrified because they wanted a reason to not have to go to work. just fucking admit it! we get mad at others for what we hate in ourselves, which is how I know this one is a sin. I hate that my favorite all-time pastime is just shooting the shit, watching the world pass by. this is why sloth is number one. i'm a lazy fuck and i'm not ashamed. it's the sin that I most identify with and it's the one that has slowly been taking me down. at its own pace and leisure. well, I'm not 'not ashamed,' since i still get offended when someone other than myself calls me lazy. only our kind can use that word. call me unmotivated instead. that's the proper term. all the time i've spent trying to understand myself this is the one that i can't explain. it's been my dark passenger for as long as I could remember. i guess tv is my dealer. that's what keeps me the slothiest. but i also vegetate when i have something pending to do. or if there's a situation i don't want to deal with. like when lucy got mis-diagnosed and i thought she was dying, for days i couldn't do anything. the only thing i can accomplish when i fall into a slothhole is smoke the green. which makes the inactivity so much more exciting and fun. still though, you can't defeat it. it keeps you out of trouble, outside of the existential kind, and is completely free. you can partake at any moment, but it gives you the biggest rush when it's right before a major project is due. or even when it's a completely voluntary project that you use to self-impose deadlines that you then ignore, so you don't finish your 'seven deadly sins ranking' idea you came up with in april until mid-june, a week after you were going to send it. You know I have it right. Shit, I know you probably skipped down to look at number one because you were too lazy to read your way there. The best sins are the ones that feel the best and are secretly the worst. During lust, you can feel yourself going ape-like sometimes, and you feel like a fat fuck when you're devouring your third helping, but scratching your balls and watching TV while the world is on fire? That sin right there is a slice of heaven.

[bspolink1348]

A lire en BSPO dès cette semaine (17/09/18)

À la une : Introduction à l'économétrie : une approche moderne / Jeffrey M. Wooldridge

Cote de rangement : HB 139 W 256119 / Domaine : Économie

« En recourant à de nombreuses applications empiriques, ce manuel d’introduction, dans sa seconde édition, réussit l’exploit de simplifier la présentation de l’économétrie sans renoncer aux exigences de rigueur et de cohérence requises au niveau universitaire. Les méthodes économétriques sont présentées avec l’objectif de répondre à des questions pratiques liées à l’analyse du comportement des agents économiques, l’évaluation de politiques publiques ou la réalisation de prévisions.

Devenu une référence dans le monde anglo-saxon, cet ouvrage permet de comprendre et d’interpréter les hypothèses d’un modèle à la lumière de nombreuses applications empiriques. L’ouvrage distingue clairement le type de données analysées. Non seulement, il couvre les données en coupe transversale et les séries chronologiques, mais il aborde également les données de panel dont l’utilisation est devenue très fréquente aujourd’hui. Ce livre offre également une introduction aux modèles à variable dépendante limitée qui sont d’une grande utilité en économie appliquée et en gestion.

Chaque chapitre contient un large éventail d’exercices, dont un grand nombre repose sur l’utilisation de bases de données économiques disponibles sur le web. Le lecteur peut ainsi reproduire les nombreux exemples empiriques développés dans les chapitres de l’ouvrage et maîtriser toutes les étapes de la modélisation économétrique.

Cet ouvrage intéressera non seulement les étudiants et professeurs de premier cycle universitaire, mais également les étudiants de Master et les praticiens de l’économie.

Jeffrey M. Wooldridge est professeur d'économie à l'Université d'état du Michigan (MSU) où il enseigne depuis 1991. De 1986 à 1991, il a été professeur d'économie au Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT). Il a obtenu sa licence en économie et informatique à l'Université de Californie à Berkeley en 1982, et sa thèse de doctorat en économie à l'Université de Californie à San Diego en 1986. Le professeur Wooldridge a publié de nombreux articles dans des revues de renommée internationale, ainsi que plusieurs chapitres de livres. » - Quatrième de couverture

Méthodologie

Qualitative inquiry & research design : choosing among five approaches / John W. Creswell, Cheryl N. Poth

Cote de rangement : H 61 C 256131

Doing research in the real world / David E. Gray

Cote de rangement : H 62 G 256124

Qualitative content analysis in practice / Margrit Schreier

Cote de rangement : H 62 S 256123

The content analysis guidebook / Kimberly A. Neuendorf

Cote de rangement : HM 529 N 256128</p>

Anthropologie

The indigenous state : race, politics, and performance in plurinational Bolivia / Nancy Postero

Cote de rangement : F 3327 P 256130

Les doigts coupés : une anthropologie féministe / Paola Tabet

Cote de rangement : HQ 1237 T 256118

Communication

Africa's media image in the 21st century : from the "Heart of darkness" to "Africa rising" / edited by Mel Bunce, Suzanne Franks, and Chris Paterson

Cote de rangement : P 96 .A37 A 256129

Terres de sens : essai d'anthroposémiotique / Jacques Fontanille, Nicolas Couégnas

Cote de rangement : P 99 .4 F 256111

Discours et analyse du discours : une introduction / Dominique Maingueneau

Cote de rangement : P 302 M 256113

Sciences politiques

Pouvoir et fédéralisme / Carl Joachim Friedrich

Cote de rangement : JC 355 F 256117

The United Nations interim force in Lebanon : multiple perspectives on a multinational peace operation / Elena Aoun (ed

Cote de rangement : JZ 6374 U 256127

Brigades rouges : une histoire italienne / Mario Moretti

Cote de rangement : HV 6453 M 256116

Gestion

Exploring strategy : text and cases / Gerry Johnson, Richard Whittington, Kevan Scholes, e.a.

Cote de rangement : HD 30 .28 J 256125

L'identité de marque : le guide de référence pour toute l'équipe de branding / Alina Wheeler

Cote de rangement : HD 69 .B7 W 256120

Statistics for business and economics / James T. McClave, P. George Benson, Terry Sincich

Cote de rangement : HF 1017 M 256126

Économie

Advancing pluralism in teaching economics : international perspectives on a textbook science / edited by Samuel Decker, Wolfram Elsner and Svenja Flechtner

Cote de rangement : HB 71 A 256122

Développement

The politics of aid : African strategies for dealing with donors / edited by Lindsay Whitfield

Cote de rangement : HC 800 P 256121

Les monnaies locales : vers un développement responsable : la transition écologique et solidaire des territoires / Marion Cauvet et Baptiste Fabert

Cote de rangement : HD 3430 C 256115

Démographie

Les théories de la fécondité / sous la direction de Henri Leridon

Cote de rangement : HB 901 T 256110

Sociologie

Politiques de la vulnérabilité / Marie Garrau

Cote de rangement : HM 1136 G 256112

Exils syriens : parcours et ancrages (Liban, Turquie, Europe) / Babels

Cote de rangement : HV 640 .5 E 256114

Tous ces ouvrages sont exposés sur le présentoir des nouveautés de la BSPO. Ceux-ci pourront être empruntés à domicile à partir du 1er octobre 2018.

[elmundotech]

Nintendo Indie World 5.11.2022: All the Trailers

#Nintendo #IndieWorld 5.11.2022: All the #Trailers - #videogames #elmundotech

The Nintendo Indie World 5.11.2022 Showcase introduced twenty independent games in the English-language broadcast plus six titles that were only seen in the Japanese version (such as Gang Beasts, Don’t Starve Together, Neon White, Undying, Super Noda Game World, Behind the Frame). Also added to the list is the broadcast in Japanese and Spanish. Check out all the trailers right here. Ooblets…