#also i would love some feedback about the id from people who need descriptions if you have any -

[solarishashernoseinabook]

SOLAR okay hi!! So I’ve noticed a while ago that some people will write image IDs in alt text and also paste them in the post! And I was wondering the purpose of that- but I sorta just forgot about it!

But!! I always write alt texts for my art, and other posts I make with images. Someone reblogged some of them and tagged “undescribed” and that confused me (for clarity, note that I am not like, offended by this or anything, only confused! I just don’t understand why :]!!)

so I was wondering if you know why that might be? The reason I ask you is because I don’t know who else I would ask D:

Basically I’m wondering if I should be putting the IDs in the post as well as in alt texts, or if it’s simply a matter of preference!

okay SO! This isn't necessarily an easy answer. There's a few components to this and different things to consider, so let's take it step by step, go over obvious information, and then get to the root of your question. This is not going under a cut, sorry folks but tumblr can be finicky and information under a readmore can get lost fairly easily.

DISCLAIMER: I don't require image descriptions in my daily life, but i've been writing them for four-ish years at this point. The information below is what I've gathered from several "how to do image descriptions" posts over the years. I'm open to any corrections, feedback, or additional information anyone can provide!

Why do people require image descriptions? Pretty simply, for one reason or another, a person can't access the contents of an image. They could be blind or low vision, or have a learning disability that makes reading difficult. An image description can either transcribe text in an image (e.g., a description might read "text saying i love birds") or describe the contents of a picture (e.g., "a cartoon image of a bird on a nest"). People with low/no vision, or who can't read, use a variety of accessibility aids to help them navigate the 'net.

What are some of these accessibility aids? They take various forms - and that's more important than you might think! Screen readers are the most obvious, but they're not used by everyone. Other people use dyslexia-friendly fonts, magnify text, or invert colours or use high-contrast mode to make reading text easier. However, none of these options work with plain images! Someone with dyslexia could probably see the image of a bird on a nest just fine, but may not be able to read the words "I love birds" in a screenshot. Someone with low vision might not be able to see either image. If an image has a description attached, the text of the description will be magnified, or its font will be changed, or it'll be high contrast, or whatever else that person needs, and they can access the image via its description.

Alt text, image descriptions, and pros and cons of each So, what are some of the benefits of alt text? Because alt text is attached to an image, people using screen readers will have the description read to them as soon as they get to the image (if an image has no alt text, the screen reader will just say "image"). Because it's attached to an image, it's harder to lose it - if a post originally doesn't contain image descriptions and someone reblogs with a description later on, there are still going to be reblog chains that don't have the description attached to them. Some people also prefer alt text because image descriptions can make a post look "messy" - some people are less likely to reblog posts with visible image descriptions attached to them. And, for people who use screen readers, it can be really annoying to just hear "image" without knowing if it's followed by a description or not. But as we established, not all people who need image descriptions use screen readers, and not all accessibility aids work with alt text. For people who magnify text, for example, alt text often gets cut off. This is a bit easier to deal with on desktop - there's an XKit extension that puts alt text in a grey box below the image - but on mobile, this can be a real problem. As yet, I don't know for sure if high contrast, inverted colours, or accessible fonts work with alt text on mobile or in the visible alt text the XKit extension provides (if you know, please, tell me!) - but I know they work for image descriptions posted after an image. Alt text is great, but image descriptions are, at the moment, more consistently accessible.

So what should I use? Both? While either alt text or image descriptions are good, the consensus among those who need them seems to be to use one or the other, not both on the same post. For people who use screen readers, hearing the alt text only to immediately hear it repeated can be annoying. I'll use alt text if it's only going to be a couple of words or a single line, but otherwise I tend to use the alt text to say "image described below" to reassure those with screen readers.

But WHY are people tagging my post as undescribed? Bestie you wouldn't believe what people can miss. I've got a viral post that's got a GIF followed by a very obvious image description and it gets tagged as undescribed every so often. If you're using mainly alt text, it's possible that it's not visible on mobile yet - the tumblr app only shows the little alt text box about half the time. Or people get lazy and forget to check, or force of habit means they tag undescribed even though they did notice. Just tag them in the replies and point out that the description is actually there - the undescribed tag exists because a lot of people who need descriptions filter that tag so they don't waste their time on posts they can't access, and they deserve to see accessible posts!

[fricklefracklefloof]

i bet martin cannot stand being taken care of

[image description: a sketchy two-page comic of martin and jon.

martin is a fat mixed white and filipino man. jon is a thin pakistani person.

the first page starts with martin waking up. as martin is rubbing his eyes, jon says, "good morning, mahtin!" a big panel shows jon's hands holding a cup of tea. he says, "i made you some tea!"

martin looks extremely uncomfortable. words behind him in a panel with a closeup of his face say, "what the fuck that's not how that works i'm supposed to make the tea he shouldn't do anything for me". an arrow pointing at him says, "trying to be soo normal".

martin says, "UM!" and awkwardly takes the cup of tea from a confused jon, making sure to say "thaank you.."

martin flings himself out of bed in the second page. determined, he says, "i'll make breakfa-" but jon cuts him off by saying, "oh! i did that already!"

jon leads martin down a hallway, thinking, "gonna get a good grade in boyfriend", while martin's thoughts just consist of "no no no no no no"

the repeated "no"s continue as jon sets a plate of scrambled eggs in front of an uncomfortable martin, and he takes a bite. in the last panel, martin has large, comical eyes and there are tears rolling down his cheeks mid-bite. an arrow pointing at him says, "weeping". jon, offscreen, says, "martin??" end id]

[chifuyuzu]

leap of faith — sano manjiro x reader.

word count — 1.3k.

genre — fluff fluff fluff, i love sweet mikey.

contains — cursing, timeskip SPOILERS present, reader is gender neutral.

description — sano manjiro is in love with you, and he realizes how much he loves you at the ass crack of fuckin' dawn.

author's note — hey besties, this is my first published fic here, kinda short but mikey brain rot is heavy. i hope you enjoy this cute fic before i rip your hearts out with some angst in a few days :^) reblogs and likes are always appreciated! and please give me feedback in my inbox! hehe, enjoy.

“it’s late.”

you know. but you still wanted to hear the sound of his voice before bed.

“mm… i missed ya’, is that a crime?” your voice echos through the receiver, the sound of your duvet crinkling in the background as you shift in place. sano manjiro was a busy man. always has been, always will be. being the leader of a biker gang was never easy—let alone some “new age” criminal organization.

you didn’t understand why manjiro persisted to play this game of russian roulette with his life. but it was never your place to overstep, especially since this was his life. it was all he knew, all he understood. you’re not sure what he’s doing, or if he’s even allowed to talk on the phone at this hour, but you still wanted to hear him. just so you know he’s alive and well.

you hear him chuckle, the sound of his feet scurrying against whatever floor his sandals were clacking against. the background noise that accompanied him earlier has dissipated; you realized he probably went outside to hear you better.

“your crime is loving a fool like me way too much. don’t think you’re sane.” he’s right. you’re actually crazy for even pursuing him. there was a lot of push and shove in the beginning, both parties scared of being hurt and getting hurt. but you were always there, even when manjiro went through whatever darkness was eating at his soul.

“crazy for you.”

“corny.”

“you love me.”

a pause. eerie enough to send shivers down your spine. why wasn’t he responding? did something happen? did you smother him too much? is he regretting—

“marry me.”

… not what you were expecting. especially not over the phone.

“sano manjiro, did you just propose over the phone? what kind of shitty rom-com are we in?”

“is that a no?”

“... never said that.” you wanted to marry him. but you wanted him to put that lifestyle behind, for the sake of the family you might have in the future. kids, dogs, cats, etcetera. you wanted him to be in, one hundred percent. but you knew he was too deep into this world to run now—especially since he’s so well-known as the ‘invincible mikey.’ you still longed for a happy home with manjiro, and a normal life.

“maybe you’re right. it’s not my style to ask you this over the phone.”

“try again later. when you’re really ready.”

the gag is, he is ready.

manjiro hurries home, blond locks hidden underneath a thin, black hoodie. he’s shaking, like a pomeranian in the presence of fireworks. his hand meets the left side of his chest, back pressed up against the grey colored wall of your shared apartment as he slides down to sit on the floor. it was four in the morning, and manjiro was about to shit himself.

he gulps, eyes peering around for you, double checking that you were fast asleep before he makes a phone call. his fingers tapped the back of his iphone, impatiently waiting for the other caller to answer. though it was the crack of dawn, he still needed some moral support.

“mikey? fuck you callin’ for at this hour? haven’t heard from you in mo—”

“ken-chin. i’m proposing.”

a loud ‘flop’ rang through the receiver, accompanied by the bedsheets seemingly slipping underneath draken’s feet. it was a huge bomb to drop, especially when the duo has been separated for months on end. manjiro hears more shuffling, followed by a few curses. “you’re fucking lying. the one you’ve been one since—?”

“yeah. i’m crazy as hell. but i love them. head over heels. i’m a goddamn simp.”

“why the hell am i the first to know, man?”

“you’re m’best friend, even if i need to stay away from you. and, also… you’re not the first to know. i asked them already.”

“you WHAT? don’t fuckin’ tell me you did it some dumb way like over the pho— you did. you’re impulsive enough to do it like that, too.” regardless of how long it’s been, draken still knows and understands manjiro like nothing ever happened.

“yeah… not romantic. but i can’t see myself with anyone else. i trust no one else. but i… am…”

“scared? man, you’re the head of a criminal organization. ‘course you’re scared. you don’t want the love of your life… to get hurt…” his voice trails off and manjiro’s heart tenses even more. the memories of the past still felt fresh. all the people they lost in tokyo manji… could never be replaced. not in a million years.

but the living must live.

“i love y/n. never felt like this before. i’d quit everything. but i would have to make sure they’re safe and whatever future we have together is secure. i know i promised takemichi that i’d protect everyone and that future he worked so hard to save… but what about mine?”

manjiro really did sacrifice everything for his friends. being the type of person who carries everyone else’s burdens takes a toll on his mental. he felt selfish for wanting to leave it all behind. but maybe being selfish was beneficial once in a while.

“listen—”

“do you think i’m stupid?”

“mikey. you’re not stupid,” draken sighs, shuffling again in place. “you just want to love someone and be loved in return. nothin’ stupid about that. what is stupid though, is you proposing over the damn phone.”

he’s not wrong. it was a spur of the moment decision that could drastically change his life forever. but with you, he doesn’t care. as long as you’re his, forever.

“how do you think i should do it?”

“well. i guess, tell me some sappy shit. how do you feel about them, and whatnot.”

“i don’t think i could ever imagine me with anyone else. a lot of people have tried to grab my attention but i only have eyes for y/n. sometimes when shit gets real hard…” manjiro takes a deep sigh, fingers threading through his hair, tilting back the hood to let it fall onto his back. “i think of y/n and i remember that even in this shit world, someone is here for me. someone cares about me. they make me feel like i’m not alone anymore.

i have dreams ‘bout us, y’know? me and y/n… kids running around. a little mikey clone. pissin’ them off because we want little flags on our meals. going to the park and letting kids be kids. maybe i’ll teach ‘em at a dojo like gramps did for me and my siblings. maybe i’ll teach ‘em about bikes—with your help, of course.”

draken laughs, letting his friend continue his little speech as he gets comfortable in bed again. don’t think i’ve ever seen mikey like this, ever, draken muses.

“man, we can own a whole zoo if we wanted. chifuyu could hook us up, in secret, of course. still have to protect everyone,” manjiro is grinning from ear to ear, head resting against the wall. “i wanna grow old with them. honestly, i didn’t think i’d make it to my twenties. more so, i didn’t want to live past twenty-something. but now… things are different. wanna be old and gray. see grandkids terrorize our children. die together.”

the tension in manjiro’s chest has faded away, only left with warmth that only you could bring him. his free hand reaches into his pocket to fumble with a small box, snapping it open to reveal the engagement ring his grandfather handed down to him.

he wasn’t the marrying type. but for you, he was.

“that all? you sound good like that, man. make an exception and let us come to the wedding.”

manjiro wants that more than anything. his friends, you... all safe. all happy. but again, the fear creeps up. he doesn’t know what to do with himself if any of you get hurt.

“... how do i tell y/n that?”

“you already have.” your voice makes him jump, knocking the velvet box out of his fingers and onto the hardwood floor. his face pales, followed by a huge lump forming at his throat when he sees your figure emerge from your shared bedroom.

“i-uh… i thought you were a-asleep.” manjiro mumbles, earning a huge laugh from draken on the other side. he hears him say something along the lines of ‘my cue to leave. good luck. send me an invite.’

“i was waiting for you.” 

he’s sweating now, a small bead forming at the base of his neck. his phone is now at his side, the screen flashing from draken’s caller id to the lockscreen photo of you on your first date together, a few years back. your eyes zone into the box, though.

“i was going to do this… better. god, i fucked up, huh?”

you’re laughing now, rubbing your tired eyes before you join him near the wall, picking up the box. “what makes you think that, dummy?”

now he’s confused. you wanted him to ask when he was serious, but in his head, serious meant rose petals, candles, someone singing celine dion in the distance.

without a word, you slip the ring onto its appropriate finger, holding up to the small rays of sunlight that peaked through the window from the approaching sunrise. manjiro’s hands fly up to your face, holding his whole world in his hands. his eyes are shiny, on the brink of tears. you nudge your noses together, foreheads connecting tenderly. your hands hooked onto the hem of his hoodie, bringing his frame closer as you whisper a soft ‘yes.’

“yes?”

“yes, i’ll marry you.”

manjiro’s lips curl up into the silliest grin you’ve ever seen him sport, before he presses a soft kiss to your lips. now he’s kissing you quite desperately. as if he’s trying to make sure you’re real, that this isn’t a dream. you feel his words vibrate against your lips, “gonna make you so happy, i promise. i love you. i love you so, so much.”

“forevermore.”

“forever yours.”

[wolfstar-in-color]

Personal account: How IDs help us and how our learning process has been

Today in Wolfstar in Color, we close our week that’s been focused on disabilities, ID’s and accessibility (check our Monday fic rec list, our Tuesday post ‘what are ID’s’, our resources Wednesday with links to pages that help in the task, our Thursday post ‘how to do ID’s) with sharing a bit about how it’s been our learning process of making image descriptions. We really hope we find some new blogs, both from artists and fans, including and adding descriptions to their visual content, so our fandom gets flooded with them.

This personal recount is going to be focused in my experience (Moth) since I’m newer at this practice, and so some of you might find it easier to relate with that! I had all the fears, all the questions, and I think I’ve made more than one mistake in my descriptions. If you ever have questions, want to yell into the void, or want to find some motivation to keep doing image descriptions, you can always leave us an ask. Honestly, it would be lovely just to know more people are doing this.

The rest of the post is under a cut, since it’s kinda long - but I also offer some advise at the end based on my own experience, so I really invite y’all to read!

How Image descriptions help me

Doing Images description has helped me realize how much I rely on them when I’m low in spoons, and how helpful they can be to learn about the meaning and intent of an image in the creator’s perspective. Sometimes, when I’m very exhausted, I can’t process some stimuli too well (particularly videos), and video and image descriptions allow me to engage while also not needing to use my whole brain to understand what the artist/creator is trying to convey, nor getting sensory overload with sound in videos in my case. So yeah, please bring more images description into the internet. They really, really help a lot of people to participate in fandom.

What I’ve learnt from doing Image descriptions

Learning how to do Images descriptions has been fun and important for me to also take perspective about how to work for a more accessible internet for everyone. Internet is important for a lot of us, including those who are disabled and immunosuppressed, since engaging with the same intensity as before with the outside world in the middle of a pandemic is not always an option. But honestly, I think the pandemic has shown how relationships and engagement in spaces like fandom might be important to build opinion, practice solidarity, learn about perspective taking, and build resource networks and friendships for everyone.

Writing Images descriptions is a skill, without a doubt. As such, is something you have to grow into. This is still a new skill I’m trying to master. Yes, it takes time to read a bit and get used to how to go about certain characteristics, with what information to start with, how not to ‘tear apart’ the artwork  (I particularly struggle with symbols and sometimes, because of the scope of this blog, how to convey ethnicity, especially when a creator doesn’t have an explicit identity/ethnicity/race description in their blog/image). I still tend to start with ‘image of’ or other context descriptors that are not really needed. I still get very unsure about how I’m doing, but at the end of the day, the learning process can only be done by trying. The positive feedback and gentle correction don’t hurt either!

I’ve also discovered in the process that doing image descriptions is incredible entertaining for me - and it’s honestly an activity I enjoy since it allows me to sort of ‘disconnect’ my brain and just submerge myself in the work of artists. I think it has helped me to hone my own writing skills too. It’s not too different to try to bring into life a description of a scene in a fic, only that it’s more of an inter-textual experience, since you are also trying to convey the intentions of the artist, bring their work to life for other people, and that makes me incredibly happy, and makes the activity really rewarding.

Some personal tips when doing IDs

- Don’t do them in mass, if you are low on spoons. The last ones are going to suck. Don’t overdo and burn out, because it’s hard to come back from there. Be honest with yourself if you can’t do more.

- Find a pal that might be able to read your IDs and rant with you when you are struggling (thanks Theo!!). But if you are on your own, that’s fine too!

- Contact the artist, if they are still on tumblr or other social media, if you got any doubt with a part of the image. Do so after you do your research in basic stuff (clothing, for example), but don’t back up from the task just because you are not sure about something in the image! Most artists are going to be thrilled to help you, and it might be a nice way to bring some awareness too of the need of using descriptions in videos, gifs and images.

- Do IDs for images/videos/gifsets you love. I know a lot of the tips we’ve handed are about ‘keeping it short’ but honestly, the goal is to give an experience, so if you are like me and need lots of words, then allow yourself to do that! If you are passionate and give a long, poetic description, worthy of its own fic, it’s likely people will appreciate it (and to be honest, if you get inspired to write something inspired in the image? it’s a win-win situation!)

- Make the ‘ID time’ an special, ‘me’ time - for me, is very close to meditating, to be honest. Put some fun music. Make a playlist that fit the artwork. Let yourself get loose in not having to think about anything but the beautiful artwork you are enjoying for a few good minutes.

- Use resources!! wolfstar-in-color has been posting things that help a lot in the process of writing ID! use the guide to write skin tones from writing in color! use the pose reference from Adorka stock (the poses usually have name in the stock!)! Go dig on @blindbeta‘s posts, use the guides to draw wheelchairs to learn how to describe the different parts. And if stuck, go ask in wonderful blogs the details you need to learn to do an effective and respectful description. There are more resources to come in the blog, but there are amazing blogs for trans and queer issues, ethnic and racial diversity, history, clothing and art, that you can look for yourself too!

- Something I’m trying to do more now: offer the artists you know the IDs you’ve done so they put them with the artwork, instead of adding an image description that likely, will only be reblogged half of the time. Who knows, it might end up with you two striking a collab mode of working!

So with that, here in Wolfstar in Color, we invite you to help us fill the fandom with image descriptions of the beautiful fanart, fanvids, gifsets and other visual content we have! If you don’t feel too confident, you can always submit the link to the image and your description, if you want us to post it for you, but we honestly invite you to give it a try, use the resources we are providing, and work with us to make this fandom more accessible!

[puppyluver256]

You ever wonder what a real monster would think of the yearly return of monster cereal? Well, at least in this case, Trencil seems to think that Count Chocula is...pardon the pun, rather tasteless =P He's just there to get his baby girl some cheerios, he doesn't need this nonsense! The other cereals in the background are basically what I got from searching "cereal boxes 1982" so if the two that aren't still around today are actually releases from a later 80s year...well, my bad XD

(there were some gentle ribbing shenanigans on my dash either earlier in the week or sometime last week featuring Trencil and Count Chocula, and I stg this was not brought about by any of that and was planned long before that went on, I just have a friend who loves the monster cereal mascots and my brain just randomly connected the two because vampires XD)

💖🐶 Check out my pinned post for ways to support my artwork, among other things! 🐶💖

~If you like, please reblog to show your friends! Likes are appreciated, but reblogs let more people see my content! If you have something to say, feel free to give feedback in tags/comments/replies as well!~

Trencil Varnnia and Nat Vancey © LimboLane Artwork © PuppyLuver Studios

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[Image Description: A digital illustration of Trencil Varnnia (from Smile For Me), with his daughter Nat Vancey as a baby. Trencil is a vampire with tan-brown skin, short green hair styled upward, dark blue eyes with pink sclera, a fang visible poking out of his mouth, and long brown painted fingernails. He is wearing a red-violet sweater and a blue-grey cape. He has one hand on the handle of a shopping cart, his daughter in the baby seat, and is holding a box of Count Chocula monster cereal that has its early 80s appearance: a white background with an image of the brown-clad cartoon vampire mascot pouring milk into a large bowl of his titular cereal. Nat is a baby girl with pale grey skin, short pink hair, and dark blue eyes. She is wearing a pink baby romper with dark pink accents and has a pink pacifier in her mouth. Behind the two of them is a shelving unit in a grocery store, containing several boxes of 80s-era cereal brands. Besides Count Chocula, there are also Trix, Dinky Donuts, Boo Berry, and Mr. T cereals. End ID.]

[jmcfarlane]

DRONE3

DRONe3

.<0_O> — — µ — <_<)))) DRONe³ And other Poems and writings by James McFarlane Telepath/Necromancer James McFarlane·Friday, May 18, 2018 . Telepath may 2018 Pencil sharp, smoke a dart early morning engines start Crescent moon blue grass tunes frost on the window and my spoon. Dopamine and serotonin, pain relief telepath droning, a walk of life, on a limb buds froze until the dawn of spring. Train passing dread grasses, Sage burning sky lasting, electric currents flowing now, necromancer up and down, Dopamine and serotonin pain relief telepath droning, a walk of life on a limb buds froze until the dawn of spring. -Seumas Necromancer May 2018 Floating wearily but in some comfort overhead. Making sheets move on my bed. Conversations in and out, speaking without our mouths. Blue fires light up your darkness please don’t ever find me as heartless I love you always one two three here’s the bass now jam with me Exhale eternally into the mic, angel choirs out on strike. Necromancer up and down, rein / radius across town, soon I will return with thee to this town/life Ville/vie. –Seumas (New Revisions) James McFarlane +Seamus to thee, from my effort unsatisfied underground nothingdrones, its letting go and walking away from it to choose to lose, this is therapy now I need to go, you know it and I got the show on the road I’mtired and now am holding a rose, I’m loosing my grip on the following code DRONe -Seumas (James) Monday, February 22, 2016 OK thisone’s right off the wall: this is a strangely written and personal poem It’scalled “Siren heart Drone” (meant for a mature audience) A’ hem…. I’m nervous, I don’t freestyle often I wish there was a way to put this near the bottom of my timeline, it’ll be my latest and greatest lyric though, + POSETIVE INDUCTION — The positive attraction to your conductive psyche, is a form in itself existing in me, subjective almost ironically, the circuitry, being both electricity and imaginary cranked up high by your fun chemistry by way of the cerebral. (Which is flattering me) The circuitry with chemistry minus proximity, (causing a reaction deliberately) the electrical frequencies that you received from me were; artsy descriptions in accents I read. Other elements of me manifesting masculinity through my dorky frequency, gave off feedback that, officially; for me heralded the dawn of freed energy. So… metaphysical seed, dropped and sewn that day, (I guess what I am trying to say is): My girl my girl, don’t lie to me, oceans away your eyes can see, my bending sending light like this, in response to; the drone from your white laced lips. For the of lack of your treble and charge of your base, my “methadone”, White Light/White Heat, can take its place, anti-acidic mantra chi, surrounding me, a black dot in space. Divided by the curve encased, the metaphysical takes place. The fact that we’re in touch today, makes sirens blare and drones play, I’ll send this over right away, and then appropriately play, ‘beautiful face’ a newer way, I could elaborate for 3 straight days. Now what follows is what’s next on the fret board of your hex. It’s between, us; a fish out of net. So this will be all they get. ok here goes, ya, this is for the ladies in town I know that sounds weak but I blame the moons energy for you cute young women never being around when I finally spit the rhyme on solid ground, neway this is about you, you and the town where I choose, and choose to settle down instead of just stop swimming and drown, no more worries, no frowns, I’m gunna work it on out, cause I’m bound for the tides, not the sound, yea, ok, you know what I mean, yea k here I go, you ready? You steady? I stole the crown from the underground, I thought it would look nice with your gown, I’m upward bound so, are you down with my verbs and nouns? I don’t freestyle rap but this might as well be,flowin literally right now cause i come down hard with a sound that this new town including your highness have minds to breakdown, so get down breakdown, my chic mystique-psychologique will make you turn around and blush while your current boyfriends drunk on the ground cause he substitutes love with down, he doesn’t have an ear, genetically, to hear your siren sound for which I was born to kinetically harmonize, desensitize and heal your weary eyes. This is the treatment we need now ill even show you how, like a bow that goes up and down, helping us resonate these bloody strings, while the clipper ship sinks…… Sinks with the low tide.c’mon lets head home. The moons making my fire rise. That means soon it will be high tide, the ocean spray it stings my eyes, so let’s go inside, its morning time, look at color in the sky the sun is just about to rise. MY clipper ship’s on seas of rye. Empty bottles of scotch catch her in the eye. I’m not afraid of all those guys, they’re lucky they even have a sty. I’ve seen farms that would make you cry. These pale blue eyes are all but mine. And yours are like that brand of dye, that in our last summer together, we ALL tried, permanent like the purple in my mind’s eye or the in the dimly lit sky the night I officially died, all from a med, instead of one I took 10, benzodiazepines, all I wanted to do was compound the prescribed effect at the right dose they make a nervous wreck feel and appear normal so I took them, now I’m in debt, but only tried this cause u have me in check, ready to knock the crown off my head, make it your golden cauldron instead. You know I’m good with shocking steel and know how to forge blend anneal so this golden crown is probably real, and I assure u from the other room that it’s safe to use took a meal. Only cause it’s my deal I leave out the part about removing toxic alloys by melting steel, adding chemicals from the field and as the method never revealed used those same chemicals, that we all feel, all the time in our head to make tiny slow moving particles to turn make gold out of lead. So neways with confidence I said GO AHEAD! But I couldn’t lie to her, so I yelled from the other room, “u should know, that thing is gold but it use to be lead. She laughed, hesitated, placed the pewter cauldron on the stove instead and put the golden crown on her head. She finally walked down the hall and into her room where I was using dust pan and broom, she didn’t say nething, just got up on her bed which was shrouded with purple threads forgetting her glasses, still she picked up my book and read, I said here ill read aloud for you instead, within a few minutes of reading she started to turn red, the stove was on low so she got herself fed THAN served us both breakfast in bed. SUDDENLY I awake and see that we are parked at the end of a pier in some town in Quebec, I yell out stupidly from my stuper, WERE ON A PIER! She had good laugh about that occurrence on several occasions. but ya I took too many pills and was all sleepy on our road trip, all in all, yet again, I fed my head then lost all my cred, it being an accident, it made me sleep like the dead, that’s when I lost you, or you lost me, literally you looked everywhere and couldn’t find me, conscious or not, id soon figure id been stung by the bee, the most painful thing however, and my only memory was later that night when you were beside me, or was it he that got there before me, ok now I must stop and back up, the cheap words pouring from me, telling the details of this pathetic story it’s pissing me off, like losing the love of your life to a drug, and then officially to drugs plural, like 5 years of fucking up pretty much following this one night, the moment you realized you had lost the one girl, the one you compare every girlfriend you get ultimately fucking that up too, the one. its caused ache in whets left of my drug affected love starved blackened heart and caused my excellent poem to go right off the rails, so I’ll get on topic and ill even do it in rhyme, what inspires me to try to try, it’s the ache in my heart that is its key function now when I think of this girl and am reminded of the moment I lost her. ok here goes, regardless, we were in bed together, and from your sleepy head where your soul lies and you can never die, I heard your memories cry, and as I realized all the days I tried so hard to try but wouldn’t, couldn’t try and now I can’t cry is because I was always too shy in your unfulfilled eyes despite being my inspiration for the last 4 or 5 years of drugs and art with your recent if u can even call it that separation the focus intensifies about u and other girls like the sweet PortugueseIrish girl from the only psych ward I recommend at hotel diu in Kingston where I was actually treated properly (maybe cause it’s a catholic hospital, maybe cause I was so fucked up I appeared catatonic for days till this fox brought me down and romanced me for a month) she’s your competition….who contributed to my psychological cardiomyopathy however, a number of “the ones” but evenbefore that I was fucked up, I was the youngest psychiatric patient in Ontario or something, I learned how to smoke inside a smoking room in the shithole Scarborough grace when I was fifteen, I think I checked myself in hen I was twelve just to get away, that may have been what that asshole head of psychiatry was talking about. I also hit the highest highs, and the most demonic abysses of suicidal advanced psychotic depression, and took more abuse for it from nurses drs and the police, not to mention my family, but I still unconditionally love and am loved by my parents and grandparents, Jesus, I sacrificed my life and goals to save my families souls literally offed myself when I was 16 years old to end the devils elaborate foothold on me the people around the household appliances and machines, the behavior of living things the weather and the temperature of the room depending on my tortured state the only common theme is that others hurt and share it with me and my empathy kind of bounces back like an echo, I express and receive the grief while later, I only know this because when I fall, which I don’t do nemore thanks to medical science, its all about them.. but now this, she cried in her sleep and the only difference about these tears the ones that dried before her, is that the tears were for the two of us,not for being hurt but for me getting hurt and that hurt her, and it came out of her in a subconscious later state, kind of like me, this happened something like five years ago and it never gets old, ok , so here’s how THIS sad story goes; back to you, we were basically sleeping on the ground, I was tied up and bound, mothers little helper’s cheque bounced, I stupidly blame the devil in benzos but as of last Chinese new year I now denounce him, clonazepam is free from sin,(the cure), which I am resistant to so even though in the name of a better life I took 1/16th of an ounce I was still wide awake laying beside you, thinking only to myself about how I fucked up, it wasn’t even my own script at the time like u even need to know this it was a gift from the big Mc the tragically crip former editor in chief of legal manuscript, this bug makes the dj tick, and he made me, (sick) so (to this day I thank god for the count and amount per pill per day,,, throw your troubles away and pray that it was ok to stray from your holy bible, “psychology today”) So I was now bound for the pound, complete and total disgrace all around, from the moment u made that sound I knew our plans were going down that I would leave town, shoot smack and somehow return because YOU specifically gave the instruction to COME BACK! But things got whack I dropped out of school after taking philosophy which I passed, took drugs then relaxed let the nothing drone blare and move towards and away from the past managed to stay out of the psycho shack and somehow followed the chemical and psychological path out of the woods, fuck that was one long sidetrack, but it’s over, now, it took a year of wandering to end it but I did so…back before I initially left town your eye lids were down. I’d spent our whole friendship collectively letting you down by being ur favorite one in town and not responding in a way that could let us…. Fuck I was a clown,ever since I pulled a sigmen froid and used white to get off opiates it’s been renown but like the psychologist before me once declared, down (heroin) so satisfying in the right dose, has basically fulfilled their open ended prediction for the drugs future, in one shot like vaccine, the queen of all drugs, administered in the highest healthy dosage intravenously is the cure all found in Montreal, and then a deliberate clean cut from all non prescribed recreational narcotics, that is until the dreaded lady in white shows up on ur doorstep, I say let her in, and move away never to see her again, with the experience and satisfaction of the act of consuming heroin as your catalyst to change your life and only take clonazepam. So before all that we had a healthy friendship, it was doomed but I loved you so u kept me around and there was all sorts of ways we got down without ever fooling around except this time I discreetly describe further down when my phone ran out of batteries while you went to town , I thought I was a fuckin martyr because all id make u do is dance, that’s the gods truth so baaaack to me not being a creep, I geometrically see the opposing symmetrical verticy of our rhombus reveal its true ego as FUCKING TRAPAZOID when I hear your inner pain, I’m no hypnotist (yet) but u were zonked after a day of mosh pitting ultimately falling for the other guy, while I slept in the grass like an ASS. you let out a whimper in your sleep and two out of three of us knew, this chick is deep, from then on I took the title of weak, I had let my biological ancestors down with swords in their hands and in my hand your crown, and still I let you down, AND YOU STILL even tried several sexy and awkward times to make it happen and I let you down, u can tell a social disease when the same set of words are used multiple times to rhyme with other words that have that sound i.e. : I let you down. In that strange little town. It’s been well over a year and to end on a harmonious note after all this purple melancholy. I’m gunna say two words to you and they are not” “I do” It’sI’m sorry. I’m sorry lately for this poem, but mostly I’m sorry for not maturing into the man you thought I could be. I’m recovered from my early episodes now, took 16 years but I used the gear to properly hear and respond without fear, if only I did this within the time frame we had, Now were both sad. And I don’t wanna upset u, ur glowie or ur boyfriend or neone else, soo I’m gunna play a song, it’s called : one thing that keeps this black heart beating””(referring to my heart: that “upturned bass drum” The thing that keeps it beating is the dissonant and strangely beautiful siren song that echoes in my mind as the inspiration, “love” and the knowledge that one can be loved and in my case always, I only philosophies with the partial use of solid evidence that I have been loved by the one I love therefore at and for that moment(pretty much after the momentmy phone died, after 30 seconds of reading trainpotting aloud, there was a subconscious subjective foggy notion that was there to be discovered by the psyche, at this moment I can prove using circumstantial evidence and truth know by both partied involved, the dependant factor being me loving her forever, and the independent factor her being a single indecisive woman looking for a man who will love her forever combining to make a positive chemical and physical reaction, that is the fundamental tradition that is the goal of all living things on this plant and its most evolutionary form of it is when it’s “Love based” one giving the other what its most in need of and deprived of, the others love, not the love of a friend, but physical experiments that are love based, expressing love on not necessarily a physical level (like if ur on the phone or sumthing)but specifically a sexual level. The compounding factors that result in reactions happenings crescendos babies,, are when the energy isn’t circular but moves in one direction, when the one party is starved, and the other has a wealth, and the act of giving not just what the yearning needs, but what he wants, when the desired with all her wealth, imparts her secret harbored denied expression love though tradional reproduction based activities, that friendship goes from “limbo” into action, even for a moment, through technology that alerts the senses, in this case hearing, whether the deprived is even present or physically participating, isn’t the point the point is that the foggy notion of true love was expressed transmitted in a traditional and pivotal form, even though I picked up the transmission through one sense, my ability to hear, the value of those vibrations, though lo-fi and misinterpreted until the last few seconds before the line went dead the compounding nature of the universe is seen between you and me, me and the chemicals and elements the acid the love that is positively charged by me and only me, in this battery regardless of proximity my charge is still the key, literally loving you moved energy directly making me alternately free but obviously reflects its imperfections symmetrically and quite similarly to your perfect face and body only introspectively and this thing I call negativity you existentially use to control and manipulate me by means of electrical currents like a shark in the sea, but the ocean currents in our world somehow moved me so far we couldn’t be but as the drone turns up the heat as chemists cure insanity, inevitably the duality of the friendship followed the trail right back to me, from the beach into the city, while metaphysical acid rain fell on her black umbrella, drops of synthetic nightshade provided a ground and a side effect equaled a perfectly balanced sound resembling a circuit around my neck and down to the nervous wreck, I stand and smoke out on the deck, and remember that was how we met I stop, wait my energies charge self provides, enough energy to survive, with my new social activity the acid, charge, size, speed and proximity and the voltage of the current and relativity. My positively charged abilities that betray the moon like your fertility, a simple circuit can’t explain the lovesick emotional pain still forming drops of acid rain only strengthening my brain, its time I have to get reactive, send this to her radically brilliant highly attractive yet negatively charged mind where chemicals of another kind will get inspired as she reads about batteries and his energy (that she secretly lovingly keeps rightfully under her locks and key with her sharp mind and memory should recall the flattery, the almost dead battery, poetic license and mad hattery finally gets me through the matter we, lost all sense of pattern, see, the point was electricity, and keyboards I would never see, played like a former prodigy, with drones that resonate with me just barely metaphysically, through my sleep deprived behavior induced heightened state, I’ve always been able to wait, epiphanies sometimes come too late, but revelations give me faith that your negative mind and my positive state, memories of how u altered fate, I know threes more to come but wait, don’t get offended by my state , my batteries dead so save the date, remember wiser things I’ve depictions finished in your head, an electrician would have briefly said, what took me hours, in ten minutes u will have read, I must finish without my meds, they knock me out, blow to the head, I’ll miss away you time instead, that lilliad inside your mind….it’s way too late you’re so unkind, but one important thing u need, to know I know u love to read, do not read too much to your seed, it makes a flower yer indeed, with pain killing power guaranteed, but this makes a subconscious need to find a source for output feed, destined to be completely freed ad finally have the urge to read, its therapy apparently, the experiment of reading aloud and they drift off on angels clouds, you think their gunna make you proud, well brace yourself, speakers are loud, they developed and were well endowed, language and its mystic power it not to be strewn on the flowers, this is my dependant variable, the words the use on me were terrible, a bird a seed knowledge unbearable, though every word is understandable, hypnotic methods subconscious dependable, lovely developmental psychology is the cause of my constant source of energy what I was born to do was reap, infinite knowledge in my sleep a steady drone of literature, I’m older now administer reality and life in place of shame rejection and disgrace, aside from my abilities that serve me independently, instinct survival evolution, speed all factors meant to help me breed, but would you read that to your seed, your surly growing potent weed, I’m not a normal human being I spend time speaking hearing seeing, proving while your disagreeing now the sheep are all fleeing, my purpose hear is slowly weaning I’m a negative source of positive energy, that means nothing drones glowies and friends that are enemies, all that I needs a path and an receiver, a sound to ride on, subwoofer and tweeters, it’s the music u shared with me that keeps me going The proof that our signal reached desired objectives, was clear to my ear which contained an elective, my minds using psychology to be less selective, behavioral science removes the block painlessly love, loss and malpractice grew my circuitry aimlessly, evolving survival instincts team with nature, my chemical background makes life like a phase, the instincts resulting are acute like a razor and amplified abilities through manipulating manipulative chemicals without wavers, resulting in behavior that can reach and amaze her… the extent of the damage is to be overlooked, by using knowledge and memory or reading a book design and time weren’t key features its transference of whines from student to teacher, let me out of detention you feminine creature ill read aloud it’s the right way to reach her, the demand and supply was shot at the sky and with lasers for eyes that reflect off her kind I was surprised to find that in no time I heard her wine, go out of her mind, and through her elective design I read junkie sublime and the fidelity was just fine for my desensitized mind. Literally proving her love up against my undying lazerlove therefore, proving that from that moment in time It was (now literally) one(the one) and another(me) falling “in love “officially identified by the subjective and objective forms that equal true love, for a time, which in rhyme and time I now feel it was divine, it’s began and ended in one harmonious line (in a Scottish accent no less) and buried in our minds getting weaker over time the signal is dying the whine and her trying has kept me flying farther away for lack of a sign that she was officially mine, but my nose it did grind on the stone learning life through the drone all on my own stealing crowns off of thrones, almost completely destroying my home, getting dipped in chrome, and then ground to the bone,, but that’s ok now because I how I know, I made her come through a phone, I’ve reaped what id sewn, now I am grown, with skills to hone no more wearing a cone, from the unknown to the known heralded by the morningdrone which is an inaudible tone interacting metaphysical rods and cones in my everlasting home among milestones made of greymatter behind bone in the form of the intangible moan that has royalties owned by the one xylophone a tone so foreign and feminine it may be that of a banshee or crone, the soil of my subconscious, is where I’ve been instructed and shown but my chance was blown there already something growin that knows the suns light is shown, now I’m alone, why did I buy that bus ticket when I could have flown. Another way of iterating this love story is an s follows introduction, obstruction instruction, induction, seduction production reduction destruction I’m trying to link two portions of this production, causing a reaction like a light turning on send notification from yin to yang (2 great friends of the opposite sex ultimately consummating their union in the way nature wanted it to be) but for us it was highly evolved in that even over the lo-fi filter of cell phones she was sending her love, whether she got off or not that id like ton know, but,, I got the drone of her during, (which if I’m not wrong is typically the main attraction for most women, their anatomy makes for a better “during” in her case conveniently, I’ll admit, without my flawed physical presence, I’m sure she didn’t just give up when my phone ran out of batteries, she was by the banks of her own lagoon, , the stimuli for me, the understanding an witnessing this correlative reaction, correlative because based on all the evidence, the great friendship which was WE were In Love,,,, that passes by my standard and I’m a philosophy grad, this Idea of me and this one girl being in love ISNT EVEN PRAGMATIC like most of my theories, the ONLY thing that get in the way of it being classified as nething between us other than, well I’m afraid to word it frankly because it makes y philosophy look dumb, the only factor threatening this TRUTH, this explainable objective form, is.. the time frame, the setting and the timing of the whole ordeal, my argument is that my reserved intense devotion that was pretty much spellbound, was appropriately (although delicately and let’s say modernly)relieved back to square one, literally and true even though it’s in the days ahead, metaphysic means dead.\\ I’m pretty lonely, so I make allot of art these days, like so; since she left me for dead and we both had left town, with thoughts of her crying asleep on the ground, my mind plays a drone, just to keep the pain down, it’s the girls very essence, oh to hear those pipes sound, if I was there this reel could have burned her house down, But our minds were both trying, Scottish lyrics I had, her bagpipes were sighing, and droning like mad, even though I was dying to get under her plaid, her fingers were flying and the lyrics were “rad the sound of her drones blared through the aero phones, I had broken a string and the bow had no rozen, but her body remembered what she had forgotten, string breaking caused her heat up and harden, this dissonant silence was her chance to depart from his flaws and his jigs and his odds and his rigs and ivy wrapped wand honey drippin upon this Venus in tartan who gushed forth the art of his masculine heart, the yin joins the yang and d string goes twang, The key that she played in was the string that I broke;I awoke in a doria mile off the coast. I swear by the sword of Ulysses and QueenMary’s crown you can’t quiet this siren when she fools around. Sending me to the moon and abyss on her sound It’s siren heart drone and that’s written in stone like I said, STELLAR, and you can TELLHER, most likely shell be a be a BETTER SPELLER, most likely ull say THE WORST THING EVER cause you’re a BULLSHIT SELLER, wave got mutual friends that FLOCK TOGETHER, social cannibals up shit creek FOREVER “sharp fanged teeth sheep” identified by Brethr in touch with friends of mine with FEATHERS, who govern karma AND THE WEATHER harmonizing OUR ENDEVOUR dissonance and TAKING PLEASURE in currents charged “+”, sea vessel PROPELLERS droning on for OH SWEET NEVER, nothing “like” inevitably BETTER the next “day, mon” frère, myself sharply dressed, a new pair of ‘GO GETTERS’ high, but fly, “the local YELLER” inscribes, as I dictate the true, (and prescribed), (in “”blood)-”LETER”! …BUY LETTER!”technique””’s psychology thesis of persuasion,-through love cure for; pain from shame stemming from taking the blame for the psychopaths that are perfectly sane who corporally, “embodying hells flames, wicked games to derange, the use of tools to cause pain, so the hands free to gain more control without shame ….and words that confuse and lead them in. vein cutting through lies and psychosomatic pain” making it rain your blood to put out the flames, an empty vessel that openly claims he righteously bears the right to OFFSET karma in his favorite time double negatives stuck on rewind with the fist or the tool of thing without mind, just current flowing into itself sustaining itself by shackling you with a voice that speaks truths that the vessel and devil greedily use to ultimately abduct you consume love your subconscious would refuse to give, to lose, so you wind kicking yourself while he rips on your soul defacing and displacing what’s left of you, what set you apart from a caved in shoe who’s uneven because the others got two, souls are unbreakable but if he breaks you, ill have the words the voice and the truth, the vessel in which to put soul into you, love and affection reflecting on you a new pair of shoes and so basically you feeling loved and in good mood no longer producing that parasite food, by walking and talking, souls in your shoes, while my bare feet support prescribed truth, a chemical network of mes and you ultimately held together with glue your love is the only way I can get through my psychological problems of which I have used to heat cook and serve us both food they drive me to supplementing love with miscues, attempts to draw a good picture of shoes, that drawn the attention of someone like you, or someone who offers a love I can’t refuse, because it me who also has many a bruise, the glue the chemical I trust and I use are prescribed and administered with bruit force and tools, leaving the chemically gifted unloved and unused and undone on the run with the songs you have sung, giving u satisfaction, and leaving u hung out to dry by the sick and the dumb, and the one, that u can give a gift to, is the only way we can say I love you and the fact that we are is what makes it true now I can scrape this shit right off your shoe, here goes, gimme my cloths my cigarettes prescribed glue, a roof over my head a bed and you, and then maybe I’ll start wearing shoes, here’s my complex singing the blues, from my effort unsatisfied underground nothingdrones too, its letting go and walking away from it to choose to lose, this is therapy now I need to go, you know it and I got the show on the road I’mtired and now am holding a rose, I’m loosing my grip on the following code,I’ll let the field talke care I m old, its time to end thiflodi broke the mouldand me with my everything about the shoe, its maker your sou out your soul leaving with bound by psychosocial with day moon SETTERS. home made psychopath GET ER, and lose her to a knitted SWEATER meant to the and if shit hits the fan in my house you become a fuckin CAVE DWELLER you officially for me heralded the dawn of freed energy so metaphysical seed dropped and sewn that day I guess what I a tying to say is seroquel can kill the day and lithium when charged can phase can kill your kidney and your craze over sirens who’ve been underground their perfect face and al around static in the air and sound of talismans and something foud induction tells you write this down what she conducts may flood the town, and this guythatts on the other line isn’t he a project of mine, sais nurse so cute and fine that flirt with my bipolar mind could his stimuli be cut, (if my nurse heard that shed bust my nut the think I’m guna get more worse nuclear winters parallel universe but bipolar ppls irony ill crack the joke an ice your nuclear explosion twice a day while I’m away leading weak dicks astray but giving your negative drones away the moans that I’m familiar with the point is I’m sick, was born with antennae metaphic that can even change channels like sappic girl on girl to girl on me altering duality and that what I get for free cable metaphysically so u better charge your battery, start the car pray she needs a guy with speed, instead of the duality of loving and love being received define love for me because lm low on batteries, finally the irony iron like steel I’m not even funny she gave me a drone that carried me home plate metal armor still that suckers dethroned all because of the ironic poem guaranteed to call my home circuitry and sacred tones, hooked up to my broke dying alone charge that she hears in my voice instinct are what’s the driving force to be my Venus in furs of course striking my eardrums while art of a new form could cure my heart, when deprivation and avant-garde combine to make things into art the the thing that makes drones stop and start my wordsandfingers take a form that independently grows horns, what an art to harmonize your frequencies with, smart, you dirty little butter tart you were supposed to cure my heart at least u got it throughtome you rising storm makes my anteenae start to channel lo-fi forms a and v imnow starting to clearly see I got to hear pure femininity express its love physically, while the ironic truth is easy to see, that my talisman masxulinity had no hand in physically and so my strengths like mediocrity, thisescwe took a short boat that sent out a masculine frequency that was enough to ride that came through the airwaves only a dined, to start your engines, and the elements it’s the charge that ironically subjectively means of a whim of a, separating you from me and that despite ur reaction objective by only induction by the ma lonely ur still a part of me, like the wasted energy of a missing battery that from within bears a charge, that was meant to be, the high voltage current, of hot energy. wat a grT TRIP THIS IS, ALTHOUGH ONG AND UNCOMFORTABLE AT LES I STILL HAVE ROCK AND ROLL AND BY DIVINE TIMING WE TOO A STROLL ADNTALKED A LITTLE THATS MY GOAL AND NOTHING DRONES AND HEAVY STONES WERE LEVITATED WITH THE MOAN OF SIRENSS BUT YOUR NOT A PHONE AND NO SUPRIZE CANT LEAVE ALONE OW I THRIV OFF DIAL TONED CAUSE IM DEPENDANT ON YOU STONE THE TALISMAN YOU CALL MY HHOME AND THAT TIE YOU CALLED ME ON THE PHON YOU WERE IN MY HEAD SAFE IN YOUR HOME BAD TIMING AND A HEAVY TONE BATTERIES DEAD: NOW WERE NOTHING DRONES…………………………………………………………….. thisescwe took a short boat that sent out a masculin frequency that was enough toride that came through the airwaves only a denied, to start your engines, and the elements it’s the charge that ironically subjective by means of a whim of a, separating you from me and that despite urreaction objective by only induction by the ma lonely Seroquel can ‘kill. The day’, and lithium (when charged) can phase, can kill your kidneys and your ‘“crazy” laser ray’s perspective.’ Meant for sirens, waves, underground stalactites, space, and drops of acid rain onto your base. Meant to cauterize with time and phase the straight; your sex, the Vikings take, and that edge they use to reap and waste. ((their secret way through; to slice through the glazed over passageway, that freezes waves of blood they made. Turned to crimson ice seen by my red hot rays, melt into salty ocean sprays) Then not so far away at night I kill the day and reap twilight, my heat turns from red to white like scars that weep acid rain despite my efforts, however insane, you do this over and over again) Relief; from emotional THEN/BY physical pain. In that order, we’re both deranged. here goes, gimme my cloths my cigarettes prescribed glue, a roof over my head a bed and you, and then maybe I’ll start wearing shoes, here’s my complex singin the blues, from my effort unsatisfied underground nothingdrones, its letting go and walking away from it to choose to lose, this is therapy now I need to go, you know it and I got the show on the road I’m tired and now am holding a rose, I’m loosing my grip on the following code, It’s meant for: a couple; of different: ppl 1 knø james ((pérsunµli); ‘(urThInKn èù¹d “Like¹¹ i+ Th0µGh))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) ) — ¹o-² øس=FOUR!!!!!!!!²O_O³⁴!! (0_0)T0o?O_o)❤µ¼FOR¼ldd.”( þ+¹na!’(LOL!)?,X&Y” =ø(þ iN þÉd àvèç¹<>³µ)/(µø+þ²)ùþ³@ — ¹²³¹²³¹²³¹²³ James McFarlane• Ideas About mental Illness — James McFarlane Here’s my theory on paranoia. (Usually considered a negative symptom of psychosis) It can help gather information or misinform those who experience it. Even in wellness it is always potentially present in all of us. It’s a survival instinct. It makes us more attentive. My unique experience and understanding is when paranoia and other symptoms are present, heightened and amplified alertness to important information perceived by the senses is collected and whatever data is missing the brain either fills it in with logical thought or logical hallucination in some cases. I will further iterate this several ways for you to better grasp it. For most people there is so much excess data you wind up believing a falsity. Simple logic should let you know best which is most accurate among the extra data collected by suspicion, inner thoughts and hallucination ultimately fitting like Lego into the fractured “factual” data perceived. I believe mostly it is our internal sense of logic that is used to make hallucinations like dreams that appear similar to our regular reality. It is your sense of logic that determines how accurate the thought or hallucination might be compared to reality. It is hard to determine between reality and hallucination because hallucination adheres to reality. But if you can detect like in a lucid dream (aware of being in a dream) that it’s a hallucination you’re ok. It’s not that difficult to determine what thought or hallucination fits if you’re experiencing (or expecting) allot of symptoms having an automatic thought process that simplifies things by showing the most accurate possibility alone to the individual by involuntary thoughts and possibly hallucination. This can be a more accurate depiction of what’s not reachable by the actual senses. The point or idea is that hallucinations and involuntary thoughts mimic reality as best they can, so, they can be used to determine what is beyond our senses reach either corresponding with the senses themselves (hallucination) or through mind talk (which is the method that most mimics what we call telepathy and is much more controlled and has less effect on your behaviour and environment than hallucination). This mind talk or “intrusive thoughts” can be our sense of logic. It’s our sense of what’s real that makes up our involuntary thoughts and hallucinations so they’re may be an ounce or two of truth in them even though they aren’t real they can be identical ideas to what is really there. This is to be used for those who can’t see or hear what are out of reach of their senses like sonar or radar and further aid those who have and impairment or just want to experiment with extending their senses. This only applies to the unwell. Like I have said amphetamine could mimic the hypomanic state in regular people perhaps. This could be a tool for treating a range of mental disorders. Depression, lack of communication in certain critical mental conditions.(Alzheimer’s etc.) It’s not just guessing at involuntary thoughts and hallucinations, the tool combines accurate and distorted data collected by the senses. This extends the senses that help us try to understand. (Only some of us may have this as a mental pattern). You may be calling this a delusion well I call a delusion an idea. And remember, an idea can make the body including the brain do interesting things. Mono ideo dynamics Determining what’s real and what’s not isn’t a problem here, you know what’s a thought and an actual sound or hallucination when this is occurring so if they combine to make a more accurate awareness with good results than it doesn’t matter whether it’ telepathy or a mental tool isolated to the mind its generating data for the individual I assure you. Collecting data even from other people’s minds is definitely a factor in this theory (it’s a tangent but it’s important.) Involuntary thought is inner thought that appears to be info coming from an obvious source or other person. This is when the argument for delusion is most appropriate. Telepathy is a possible conclusion in the case of mind chatter or involuntary or external thoughts unlike ‘sense extension’ which is a potential tool involving similar aspects but also the actual environment. The mind to mind thing doesn’t involve physical reality like the sense extension theory which involves hearing and assuming all five senses if you were sick enough could improve the perception of our environment by way of hallucination corresponding with the senses, verses logical lingual additions to your line of thought (involuntary thoughts) which can be thought alone (mind talk) This opens a window to hybrid hearing combining involuntary thought with semi audible data, this was my first discovery and personal experience along the line of useful mental activity. So I would call it all external or involuntary mental data. The reason I included the telepathy as idea in this was because sense extension which may be provable is using the same material our thoughts are made of suggesting that the other ideas are worth experimenting with. I suggest mental information can be projected into the metaphysical reality affectively by a person just like shouting a person’s name. This is blatantly how it works from my perspective. What we imagine goes out into the air and some of us are there to hear it within our thoughts; mind chatter. Talking to yourself in your head as well as other transmissions or incoming additions. Not something we do all the time. Some people rarely do it or experience it. These are introspective expressions nevertheless they are the fabric of what sense extension involves. So if sense extension, (because it uses the senses, reality and hallucination/involuntary thought) can be tested and valuable info is collected from those tests, because of its use of involuntary thoughts which mimics telepathy, it could help prove or add merit to the idea of telepathy and its other explanations that are as follows. Proving telepathy involves seeing how things like sense extension is in the same weave as actual things we use or experience like thought, mental chatter, hallucination, dreams. This part of the universe is becoming objective when using a hybrid or functional form to better understand our surroundings. Just believing in these functions and experiencing them improves your regular perception and observational skills. These are hybrid metaphysical tools for perceiving your surroundings by use of hallucination and or thought and actual fractured data picked up by the senses. I tackle this mind chatter idea more so because it’s a solid symptom that doesn’t fail, like hallucination often does. Thoughts in the form of language coming from people around you or your multipersonalitied conscience is a good thing as long as it’s a good thing. When it no longer is in the range of being able to be used as a tool, these thoughts can be turned off or turned on by meds and belief or disbelief in the idea. But when it’s happening properly, like in hypomania, it does act as an aid in awareness of what’s most likely going on in other people’s thoughts. It informs you of the most likely thought usually in relation to you, aiding you every time by making you aware of something you didn’t know before. Word for word telepathy is a miracle, mental chatter that informs you of what’s most accurately going on in other people’s heads by way of involuntary lingual statements in the mind is not. It’s worth investigating, it’s a gift that has never led me to harm, only understanding. The fact that it’s in your head makes it a passive process where you have the option of responding or not, verbally or mentally if you’re a believer in telepathy. You can have communications, often in the form of mental lingual impressions from people around you, as long as their chattering in their heads. More often they respond verbally or through body language. (This could be also called a thought related delusion, and it probably is) Like sense extension it helps figure out without effort what’s most likely going on somewhere else but this involves getting a mental impression of what’s going on in someone else’s head and apparently only if It’s about you or directed to you, mostly. Telepathy and sense extension go hand in hand. What’s real and usable and what’s a symptom may need to be looked over and not just thrown in the isolation chamber. Mind chatter and thought insertion are two different things I think. Thought insertion means you think someone or something else is in your head and it is overwhelming. Mind chatter or “telepathy” follows a pattern of logic that is more precise than your own usually, it follows a rule, I am certain of it. That’s why it’s better to use cause it’s your intuition delivered lingualy. Thought insertion is like having someone else in control, whereas mind chatter is somewhat under control and mostly in your control as you are the experienced one. Involuntary thoughts (other people’s voices) could be telepathy and if it follows such a dynamic and structured law it should not be called thought insertion. Sense extension is something more practical and objective than telepathy type thinking, but it is untested and like I said, I deal with mind talk even when I am well and it is always accurate and helpful. The idea of partly using data from the peripheries of our trusted senses shows that these elements are not to be underrated or mislabelled. The fact that we can only see farther stars in the sky by looking off to the side is a great example of use of the peripheries of our senses. Similar is my experience of seeing peoples more true emotions on their faces when using peripheral vision. Is esp or just one example of a passive and informative hallucination? Let us not throw aside my interpretation of the experience of useful and unique mental activity by giving it the unattractive label of thought insertion when the fundamentals of these ideas may be useful for inventing evolution like tools to reach out into parts of the universe we have not yet studied. Distorted senses combined with an inherent logical thought process that is accurate if not pragmatic I my experience in every case. This could be an opportunity to reopen the study of parapsychology. (The fact that these are just an accurate perception mechanism is good enough). To reveal this delusion, we’ll assume all this is still only going on in one’s active imagination. However using a pattern of brain activity that mimics telepathy as a tool to read his/her environment better is cool; the only difference this has to sense extension is that there is no real life data involved. This in my opinion makes it the most commonly used and confronted with, solid, and most effective tool I deal with. (even when well) There are practices like muscle reading which is getting data through seeing a person’s movement that are examples of a semi proven method that mimic things like telepathy. I propose mental activities that are involuntary and positive like some of the symptoms of a mental illness, could be used as a link between what we see as dysfunctional mental activity and a breakthrough into the endeavour to prove that thoughts are part of our dynamic world as a form and can be used as a medical or social tool. This mental activity in serious cases of unwellness can alter the way we operate, not just the way we think. Paranoia could take over and it could be false data, and the repercussions could crescendo. In their reality and in reality itself. I say listening to your thoughts (whatever form they take) and interpreting them, it’s safer than experimenting with hallucination because mind chatter can be a factor in hypomania and in wellness. Only in the case of hallucination being used in a controlled environment with positive energy being present, for instance with a schizophrenic, they can be very well while hallucinations are still present. If in that state the hallucination tends follow what the senses are trying to perceive and use a situation like the sense extension experiment involving hallucination and obstructed hearing it may prove to be a good tool/idea possibly for aiding the hearing impaired in this situation or a similar situation that works. It could work because it could fill in more data where it was lacking and it may inherently be attempting to be accurate. This attempt is evident in other mental processes mentioned here. In the case of experimenting with this type of thing never should you be depressed manic, psychotic or over whelmed with psychological issues. If you are in an unwell state seek help, but be open to the new ideas that may present themselves to you. Know that the brain is elastic and does heal. The hippocampus and you are always growing. If it’s suggesting that its telepathy aiding us and guiding us that makes you sceptical I’m not going to just drop it. Be pragmatic and get a bit more insight into how it worked for me. First off, all that makes it telepathy as I’ve said is that it only involves thought. One thing that suggests that it is a thought from another source is the amount of unusable but accurate information that comes along with these seemingly incoming transmissions. It behaves like a mental environment that doesn’t involve just you; the metaphysical plain. You mostly hear in your thoughts what applies to you from those around you but there is other mental exclamations at times coming from different sources for different destinations, or in most cases mental exclamations just for themselves. Also getting an involuntary thought of apparently what is being said somewhere completely out of reach of the senses is a factor here. This is bigger than the structure of telepathy. If you are being talked about in the other room the brain informs you of it and who is saying it, this is clearly a survival instinct to gain intelligence of what may be out there and what most likely is, this type of sense may be evidently seen and utilized more by animals than humans. Probably because of the invention of language, putting the sense in recession. These ideas suggest that the metephysical plain is not just in my head but is there for everybody (and that privacy may be an issue.) The experienced and well user of the mental functions could actually receive and send out positive and effective transmissions with a ripple effect, real or not. (for what it’s worth, even to gain confidence and boost chemicals, respond and react accordingly to these transmissions and you’ll find it fits and improves your presence and role in the situation, that’s my experience) while the sick are just spiralling and not even communicating because their usually using negative or confusing behaviour or energy. What’s also evident of its existence is the obviousness the transmissions go both ways. I’m not just getting your impression of me in my thoughts; it’s obvious you’re getting mine. Its conjoint mental activity. It involves everyone but I think it requires a guide. If these are just symptoms, they rarely intensify and do dissipate more or less with wellness. I say if it’s not the metaphysical plain it’s at least explained by two minds appearing to correspond by (often coincidentally) one playing out the others activity as accurately as it can within the mind. This as a law would be evident enough to prove telepathy. I see a constant pattern in when the transmitters communicate, that they are thinking that thought and responding to one another (seen though body language and verbal responses. That’s telepathy like activity rationalised. It’s not always word for word because often I ask and they say no I did not think those words. Apparently it’s a mental impression of yourself delivered in the form of verbal thoughts or inaudible expressions from other people in the vicinity or elsewhere. Finally the hybrid hearing idea.The most effective and safe of the ideas here. (Thought and hearing mixed) It would be hard to disprove because of a lack of qualified candidates and the scenarios required. The hybrid hearing idea like I’ve said is not activity isolated only to thought, but the idea that involves using factual data and the imaginary simultaneously. Sense extension without hallucination. Deciphering between actual sense and involuntary thought is easy, you know what you hear and what you think, they become conjoint in some mental states indicating that the possibility of an extension “fill in the blacks” scenario. Know that this involves either an overactive imagination. The logical involuntary lingual thought mental activity combined with the brains attempt to hear the less audible is a marriage that could create the extension of the impaired or out of reach sense (hearing in this case) What I propose is happening here may be hearing the bass of a conversation because bass carries farther, and your mind places the other frequencies (treble) in the form of an involuntary imaginary sound. I suggest this is too intricate and accurate to be delusion. To actually be aware of the volume according to the distance or nature of the info that comes from not the unknown but an obvious source is evident of that intricacy. The psychotic skills talked about here are among the skills we’re all born with. All humans are capable of psychosis. Which is the foundation of these things. I just find mania to be safe, similar and more of an advantage. Our brains and beings all have an inner need and desire to figure out what is reality. Even when that reality is obstructed, it uses other means to get around to perceiving the world correctly. This line of thought has the potential to be a step forward in changing others view of these symptoms. To suggest that they are meant to be enhance to our advantage, not abolished; this is the stuff of change at an evolutionary level because as I said earlier it does involve everybody and anybody. The Chemically Endowed / THE HEALTH SYSTEM James McFarlane June 1st, 2016 Mania is the increasing of one’s “reward” chemicals in the brain chronically (a symptom of Bipolar). A fact about mania is that it is not so often as out of control as we are tempted to assume. We don’t know the limits it can push positive wise. A negative aspect is surely something that we have seen occasionally. An example could be a world leader like Alexander the great. On the positive side of it are people like Van Gough and many other artists, teachers and authors. Making tireless efforts at just causes inspired by epiphany is just one of the activities a bipolar individual has the option of pursuing. (Sometimes with phenomenal results) This can be a positive activity of the broad ranged individual. Mania is an abundant source of potential positive energy. The mythical Greek god Dionysus has been called the god of mania. He partied allot and was the estranged son of Zeus. There were cults formed in his honor and the remanence of them still exist today as a common and highly manipulated, manipulative tradition known as the entertainment industry. Antianxietys, antidepressants, antipsychotics and mood stabilizers; drugs that (have attributes that researchers have neglected to even identify) help and plague the bipolar individual as the most commonly used tool to ward off symptoms. In some cases, recreational drugs like amphetamine ((that seem to force up the mood of an individual) among drugs that are normally oriented with unwellness)) I suggest, could be a surprising aid in speeding up the recovery process of depression (the opposing symptom in bipolar to mania which have psychosis as a common theme at the peripheries of both poles of experience) through cognitive stimulation. This is important because antidepressants take several weeks to take effect and suicide could be prevented by the induction of a more open approach to medical uses of recreational drugs. This activity should be combined with social interaction in the case of recovery because it surrounds the recovery of the social aspects of the self (I do not recommend this as the first option for a recovery process). Like most drugs this behavior may take years off the recovery process but could wind up taking years off your life. If closely watched and tested the medicinal benefits of illegal or unreaserched drugs as well as further data released on drugs in general and their common circumstances may be a great stride in the remedy of mental, psychological conditions and social misconceptions which solutions are still being put off by ignorance of the populous and adverse political agendas. Other treatment options not listed above include electroshock therapy and psychical exercises like cognitive behavioural therapy. These alternatives are used less most likely because pharmaceuticals are a huge part of controlling the populous and funding corporations and government. However, a regimented combination of any of these factors could be a breakthrough for some. Called “consumers” by people that work in the pharmaceutical industry, these human beings endowed with seemingly new chemicular behaviors have a heavy cross to bear. I believe that it is obviously possible that over half the population (just to be fair) are born chemically inclined, but forced under the heel of the majority of the others who are from my perspective, psychologically twisted by ignorance, power over the sick, and unjustified behaviour based (((most likely (just to be fair) for some, subconsciously))) on either inherent or just blatant jealousy. I say this because the majority of people in a position of dominance in our society, (security guards, nurses, the police, doctors what have you) are brutally unfair, unprofessional, and ignorant in most cases. This attitude fuels the biggest and oldest and crudest intolerance ever committed by one group against its own people. The mentally endowed verses the psychologically twisted and everyone in between or strung along is the latest and oldest injustice I can see other than the genocide of the shamanistic cultures of north and south America. The most obviously funded sick lack of justice and care for their own counterpart (ever challenged till present day) by a government is currently at hand. It’s a matter of time and interest among corporations. Their need for money will guarantee that the proper drugs will be the end of this problem. Their survival as a business is the only co-dependent factor for the cause. Once the sick become well, ((the inevitable outcome (already achieved)) the drugs will be reinvented a few times ultimately plateauing as a renewable idea by these scientific salesman and their evil subordinates running the place like some kind of sick joke to themselves. Those who wield tools and permission to inflict pain, bondage and any form of abuse they find delectable simply to put off paperwork (and sooth their own often nocturnal boredom) only assigned to be used in the inevitable malpractice suits soon to be ensued by the just with the just against the corrupt. With blunt force and jealousy against their only threat and reliable witness to the sick twisted 24 hour a day fetish of legally and illegally taking the rights and freedoms and everything that makes life desirable from the ill to make way for a prolonged treatment of abuse and betrayal from the psychologically bent nurses and security guards, doctors, police not to forget your everyday sociopath / psychopath walking the streets and perverting the direction and attention of the staff and patients of mental health wings across the country (Canada). Folks like these who lack the basic right and wrong skills, used obviously and openly by the sick and the meek to inevitably over throw the ranks of sociopaths and psychopaths governing, misusing and perverting the writing of history. All of their efforts put into this “note taking” endeavour to be rewarded with indulgence into the sick pleasures of a dysfunctional beauracracy and political disgrace to be. As for the sick, (and well) the neglect of one’s health and deterioration of relationships is often inevitable during episodes and when being forced against such characters mentioned above. These new victims often leaving the institution with their own newly afflicted psychological scars. This is understandable considering how different and under informed the external world and the unbalanced individual usually are. The unwell individual tends to get overwhelmed with heightened and distorted perception, and the outside worlds clashes with their reality. Inevitably against their will, (usually after lots of experience) and sadly, many forms of legalized abuse from the system that seems to be above all law, they become accustomed to the system and more knowledgeable about medication. This is the only way I’ve seen someone become well, for longer. It’s important to channel the knowledge from their experience into productive endeavours. This is the exceptional goal. Chemicals are a big part of the inclined individual’s life (Pharmaceutical, natural and usually recreational). Often enough a well-balanced person emerges but the fight against unwellness and addiction is ongoing for many. Even once well, the psychological challenges of adjusting to life can set in. Thankfully this is also treatable either with anxiety medicine or therapy (or in the case of the Canadian health system, prolonged and tormenting hospital stays crudely striped with prolonged bondage and isolation chambers. Psychology being the completely unfunded and rightful alternative. Wellness comes with time and knowledge as well as trial and error. The potential experience for these individuals is more than the average prescription. Logically and philosophically looking at these problems is key to understanding them. Stigma; it’s a thing like racism that is rampant in every culture today but especially in western culture apparently. A mild example of stigma is using a negative label or misconception such as “split personality” or “psycho”. These are words attached to now folklore, lies and misunderstanding so this ignorance is apparently the first thing to go. In the case of bipolars, it is often amplified social ability versus depression or other emotional states that is confused with complete loss of judgement. Schizophrenics seem to have an even keel in terms of personality in most cases. I know there is no mood disorder but full on hallucinations. This could be due to an unexplained increased constant source of dopamine in their system I suggest gets used to produce complex distractions that could be used to their own advantage, like poetry etc.. (Unproven connection) The biggest problem is the assumption our government and citizens have; that the mentally ill are violent. This ultimately subjects us to being treated like escaped zoo animals by every authority figure you can think of. This is how they legally get us into straps; the word violent. This word can be used in ways it shouldn’t which is often the case. Once declared violent and mentally ill you’re bound for a living hell most likely for quite some time. All the ugly side effects of the system itself leave you psychologically damaged. You get a fate worse than prison by far, especially if you’re rebellious. I have rarely if ever have seen an act of violence towards another from a person that lives in a society that has them already sedated, and threatened by fearful ignorant authority figures with shackles, tasers, injections and cruelty in general at the ready. I’ve mostly seen vigilance or peaceful protest in those in an unwell state, simply because they have the logic to see what they’re up against. We’ve seen this all our lives. Even those who fight back really never had a chance to show that they meant no harm. I say this because our common goal as this type of person is to be understood. While up against a mass of smug sociopath liars who are constantly projecting joyously in groups that we’re mentally incompetent and incapable. This whole thing makes me want to kick an isolation room wall in and pull out the insulation over and over again. That type of treatment on that scale and for that length of time inspires anger in the most emotionally controlled of individuals. This type of passive brutality cannot be easily understood by people who are on a regular level of unchanging dopamine and serotonin. Basically, it is those who are in control and uninformed that are inevitably inflicted with the stigma for mental illness otherwise these are used as tools by the PhDs that as of late have the audacity to wield side effects deceptively like better acting medication (as well as transference upon their staff). Mania is a powerful source of energy. Success of any kind is a possibility with people that have the genetic makeup of the bipolar individual and quite possibly the schizophrenic and schizoaffective system casualties. Most who blindly submit are in a sedated or in a financially constricted reality for most of their lives. However massive bodies of work that gain quality over time with practice are usually seen with all types of mentally ill individuals. Productivity is a given with excess energy and hopefully with excess dopamine. This is something the bipolar individual has at their disposal. (The excess dopamine, like I stated earlier, being the undiscovered advantage for schizophrenic and hybrid diagnosis individuals). If psychological ailment is part of ones developmental makeup, seek help through private practices in your nearest large city center, like psychologist offices, astrological predictions or the cheaper alternative; fortune cookies. ((all systems more trustable than the political money grab being masqueraded by the Canadian government and god knows where)). Hobbies will get lots of attention and skills like writing will be improved for most. Phenomenal ideas and activities must be given attention. It must come from a desire to be appreciated in a world that sees them as useless and treated as such as well as resentment for the genetic advantage and the mitochondrial patterns I will stipulate below. First off I am compelled to write; things like physical agility are improved as well when new energy comes along. Now, the organelle mitochondria in animal cells produces energy for the cell. Like the patterns of the near solar system and probably menstrual cycles and similar monthly patterns recorded to date, all of these cells (differing by their design) work as groups. Most likely shifting by the behavior and the pressures of the environment and or the environments one is involved with as well as (chiefly) the positive verses negative intentions or energy put forth. The positive being more strong and more apt to gaining velocity compared to negative endeavours while the ignorant become subjected to rapid, (fuelled by culture and social upheaval) evolutionary de-emphasis. Tradition will save many who are open minded. It has been theorized that a person who inherits the bipolar gene may have abnormal mitochondrial activity. I reiterate that this would cause fluctuating energy production for the whole body and possibly more so for the brain, ultimately spiking or dropping essential consciousness related chemicals like serotonin and dopamine. Mainly above the baseline of level as far as positive living goes indicating that it’s an innovative evolutionary trait. (These chemicals and the proper medicine are prime factors for the bipolars however independent) the natural chemicals)) These are known simply as chemicals that affect our mood. Or sometimes referred to as (and in everyone’s experience) reward chemicals (endorphins) and oxytocin (the love chemical). The mitochondrial theories as well as more psychological rather than biological theories (i.e. “mono-ideo dynamics”) are unproven. (most called into question more than 100 years ago left unelaborated but proposing a hypothesis unfinished on purpose, ie. Mono-ideo dynamics meaning that an idea can make the body do anything the body is capable of to the peripheries, any part of the body. The “any” part of course cautiously suggesting the brain) The future of mental health I would say is the extensive categorizing of the dosage and drug or treatment in relation to different types of people or circumstances. (i.e. more than 10 conditions, more like a dictionary of conditions to be) Also, once the medical scam plateaus (due to actual research and political attention) psychology as a treatment method will be implemented beyond nurses attempting some form of cognitive behavioral therapy. It is those employed to work with the mentally ill and the graduates of psychology or related studies who must insist on more data collection and way more research into the possibilities the mind itself can offer in medical treatment of all illness. It occurs to me now obviously that psych has been previously placed on the priority list as secondary to the drug trade and religion so to gain funding for an renewable priceless trade like deduction of illogical pursuits and outcomes. (A basic form of psychology that should aid dangerous things like delusion and the laws of attraction). Psychology research mut be put on the forefront so we can get meds chosen, dosages corrected and diagnoses discovered and made faster and more accurately. (And produce more jobs in all levels of the field of medicine) It’s a century old marriage and divorce between medicine, and free will. Psychology should be treated as equally as important as medicine as it is half the battle against corruption of our society, ecosystem and those who inhabit it. Back to the original induction and pragmatic endeavour of self controlling mental chemicals that have their own agenda, or the agenda of the moon and the weather; the social activities of a manic person can be difficult to put up with for others because it’s constant and overbearing at times. This factor most likely is being brought up because of my experience with passive aggressive tendencies. What is interesting is that it can stimulate chemicals in people around the source (more importantly I say between couples). Basic emotional chemicals like endorphins and oxytocin (excitement, survival and `love` related chemicals in any order) can be increased in other people at higher than normal rates and levels (not to mention the freed individual themselves). These chemicals can be a blissful and natural human experience when people are close to one another. This can be achieved through stylized communication between persons. In cases of manic people with other manic people; it’s a vibrant social atmosphere. It’s manifesting the inner emotion or thought into reality or more commonly manifesting it into iteration. In any case one can activate the other pretty easily without consumption of any substance. Any communication and body language is the stimulation factor here when differing types of people get together. This is what psychology is; ‘Behaviour changing chemicals, changing environment’. Boring and seemingly opposing efforts is also a common occurrence because it’s hard to stay positive for most and for those around them because, it’s been a long battle and opposites attract. Phrases like that as well as phrasing like “everybody’s different” is an indication that intellect and work ethic are also independent factors essential to the coexisting of partners in general. The state best to experiment in as far as is hypomania (medium mania) or even just wellness. Ways to activate a slow rise in your serotonin level if you’re not bipolar would be using a mild stimulant like amphetamine (Dexedrine). This is not something to try on your own. I’m suggesting this to be a carefully overseen test involving chemicals that are dangerous to be used in excess and for prolonged periods of time. If you become manic, know that once your manic states have passed and you’re well you still possess the ability to partake in and test different psychological and parapsychological activities (it does stay with you and up to date). One thing to discover while well is that a person can up their brain’s chemicals at will without the use of drugs, rather, behaviour or behavioural exercises. Once you’ve done that and or submitted to the opposing factors of the weaker you are both freed. This has been going on for billions of years in many forms. Dancing, sex, geometry, sensory deprivation (like vision quests or modern culture traditions) gaining knowledge about the earth from the stars, cultural and group oriented endeavours like art or chemical revolution (i.e. drugs rock and roll all stimulate the body chakras as well as the earth’s). Other theories basically thrown around by the wiser of the eastern west in the form of literature or poetry comes to mind, like; “electricity comes from other planets”, in relation to mono-ideo dynamics in relation to bipolars and nature; “The Gift” etc. (The Velvet Underground, 1969). All of these “foggy notions” are there for usually the reason they’re being inspired, meaning put art intentions and science together and you’ve got something good. Unless you succumb to the marketplace. Only drugs inspire chemicals on command without the need for circumstance (this is a modern cultural tradition). The nature of mania is that you become ‘antennae’ of sorts that more easily gathers information. It’s up to you what you do with your energy or your manic that turns the tides in your favour. Your perception may be higher in this state, but there (as always) is; a down side of it as there is duality in all things in nature. Psychosis depression and psychological problems plague the inexperienced young bipolar individual’s lives until an effective treatment plan is accepted or forced on them. Other ways to cushion this (and to avoid too many episodes) is complying with treatment plans to your liking and staying away from recreational drugs for the most part. Or rather, opposing and cheating the laws of the flawed marketplace. The process as a whole is always a learning experience for most. For sure, unbalanced brains are the next step in biological evolution. The union of the mind and body, the relationship between the physical and metaphysical, and how human culture is merged with the ethereal will occur along with the reopening of the practices originating from primitive psychology like the agenda of the heavenly bodies of fire above. Victim Psychology One thing I have realized over the past many years is that there are two kinds of people in the world; the aggressors and the passive. Like the chimps and the bonobos, the psychopaths and the victimized, the sociopath and the weary guardian, the farmer and the farm animal, the nurse and the sickly the dominant prey upon the weak. I have found the sociopath to be friendly and the psychopath to be gentlemanly and wise at times. This does not condone they’re compulsive destructive social and physical abuse that they inflict upon they’re victims. A psychopath is someone who enjoys committing violence upon another. A sociopath is one who has no care for the wellbeing of others. This is rampant in modern Canadian livelihood. One other thing I’ve noticed about aggressors is that they go in and out of remission. (Which is cooperative behavior) A volatile destruction of one’s trust of others and distorting of one’s actions that is prevalent in victims is sexual abuse of the young and old alike. Next to physical assault it’s the most reactive and high profile to this day of violations of another person therefore it falls in the category of psychopathy from what I can see because of its physical and emotional impact. Victims carry on in public, say profoundly erratic and shocking statements, take up malevolence for those who stand by them and seek a vengeance that has no sympathy in any circumstance against theirs and other persons abusers. Their paranoia fuelles the problem of wrongful accusation cases ongoingly across the board. Usually a current abuser is in the background with these cases fuelling the fire while the victim holds out for some kind of mercy or justice. Wife beating and general abuse of children and animals are the most haness and hated by the public and the spectrum of victims in this country. (Canada) Sexual abuse is the most widely discussed and concerning of abusive behaviors towards humanity, (to the point that it’s an ongoing obsession and topic in the daily conversation in a conflictive situation between persons and within groups of all sizes) breeds decay within the psychological health of the groups themselves(like paranoia to a schitsophrenic) and they revel in it, abusers and all. All the power to the victims for their enthusiasm, but to reiterate what I wrote above, these actions are somewhat on occasion either false puppetry put on by the victim’s close and currently occupied as; violator, or by bystanders who just want a show or to gossip. The falsity and sadly sociopathic act of ‘fish netting’ just about every oddball as a possible suspect of these lowly behaviors is very common in today’s society. However, I have realized that their paranoia is justified by the number of women beating and sexual abuse cases showing up as a reality today and that there is a correlation with the amount of homosexuals that are violently “in the closet” who turn up in our courts and also who don’t (mainly due to victims trying to hold their lives together). Can this be explained by ethnicity clashes? Gangs?Terrorism?Languages? Why this correlation? Is it obviously connected to what was formerly seen as perversion, homosexuality, as a factor in these broken homes. Just because by my census in northern Ontario found that heterosexuality was a minority here and that the abuse rate changed for the worse shows that it is possibly a correlation. How long has this been going on? I find that these men need to use women as a shield, a sexual punching bag that’s worth no more than a cheap roast beef. This is a new social disease. Not homosexuality, but the act of taking a mate of the sex you aren’t interested in for personal gain. The action of these men is typical abuse and the women go on destroying their psychological health through these empty relationships. This one (me) who is looking for a healthy relationship feels ripped off however the sociopathic women choose their life like dolls instead. While the jails hold the psychopaths. The police jail and court workers go on with their corrupt behavior in our region. It’s that that continues to choke our young women into a compromise. They are a social disease, we are under siege from sick nations and countries and our men are allowing our women and children to fall by the wayside to make room for more homosexual dominance. It’s time to liberate the inflicted to avoid more people crossing over to psychological toxicity. As these victims start to depreciate into self destructing and outwardly destructive tendencies. Psychologists must prescribe and teach like never before in this age of lies, abuse and corruption. LO-FI Music Explained JAMES MCFARLANE·SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2016 LO-FI MUSIC EXPLAINED The additional distorted data collected from the peripheries of our senses deliberately recreated and reproduced by means of adverse, outdated and unintentionally altered technology and style. Recorded or preformed ideally in the form of what we know as music and or film. broken record? More like audible snowflake. The geometry of nature get betrayed and expands when recording art under predetermined and active circumstances at the whim of the conditions of the environment and it’s setbacks. LO-FI Music/Media is the effect that the decay of our technology has on the pristine conditions in which we perform and record our visual and audible experience and the deliberate recreation and reproduction of these anomalies. Atonally thrusting forth with a foggy notion that these new audio and visual recordings of patterns that emerge from the more primitive forms of technology over time vaguely and remarkably respond to and compliment the setting of the reality intentionally being recorded on an almost conscious level. The question of how to activate them and where hey come from arises when artists of our own age with a knowledge of the recent technological and cultural past attempt the avantgard. Using predominantly analogue and traditional technology affected by time itself that we can alter ourselves in combined with natural (random) rate, voltage, velocity selection what have you to reproduce art AND what the ultimate effect of the recording process has on these works of avantgard art is the idea behind and the method LO-FI Music/Media. -James McFarlane (Seamus) I blew up Einsteins theory on insanity — James McFarlane (Seumas) JAMES MCFARLANE·SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2016 Einstein said that the definition of insanity was repeating ones actions over and over again, expecting different results. I say that this behavior is far from insane. It is the fundamental law of how our development, bodies, daily lives, cultural traditions, reproduction, evolution and solar systems function. When looked at closely we see that even the most repetitious behavior is constantly changing at various rates. This is a law in all things in our universe therefore nothing ever really repeats itself. Rotations beautifully exist in nature and follow an imperfect geometry that we mimic in our cultures according the the schedules of the massive bodies above. Rock and roll, like opium or the moon have differing effects on the geometric patterns of our lives and evolution. Some rock an roll music by use of musical instruments (science) has combined the harmony of natures repetitious behavior (the drone) with the ever changing distortion factors like; time, mass, pitch and amplitude that are essential and fundamental to the evolutionary principle of repetitious behavior. Its the repetition that is the foundation we stand on, as long as your standing on it, expect something new to come about. Simply our presence in a scenario changes the physical and metaphysical environment at some rate, its our behavior and descisions that change that rate what manifests as the artwork or reality. — James McFarlane (Seumas) lyrics — James McFarlane (Seamus(Substreet Drones)) JAMES MCFARLANE·SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2016 NEW — weird song (2016) the reaper, put the beat on hold, bones dug up just like the sunflowers in the snow, now deeper into the river of sight, if you go in that cave dont turn out the light, white light shines bright, no stars tonight, behind the vox stack, their singin heart is black, subwayswhislting over my head, thank god i climbed aboard instead, reap what you sew 4x (coda) Heart is black ive been had (ive been had) ive gone mad (ive gone mad) ths is war, (this is war) i told you all this before i beg you, i want you too, write me back heart is black face the facts, art is black, heart is black face the facts, art is black, oohicant stay, (ooh icant stay) cant go your way, (cant go your way) i felt you sweet smack, Your smoke is black (smoke is black) i beg you, i want you too, write me back heart is black face the facts, art is black, Beautiful face she thinks shes alright, butshes out of sight, swim in for a bite, underneath the white light, thining of fashons, and still looking smashing appealing to fools, out of all kinds of schools, lo frequency base, mixed with the acid taste, no it couldnt compare, to your beautiful face. you left a hole in my chest, a better shot than the rest, do you have five minutes, for a warhol screen test, at dawn i see a star burning not lie the rest, cant help but sit and wonder where its going next 4x cant help but sit and wonder where shes going next 4x Blue Haired BelleBlue Haired Belle, hangs around the gates of hellMorning stars get lost, in the flow of your blue sky locksDon’t despair, you’ve been on a track please take care, Come fly with me, its your blue sky that’s pure dont you see. Its alright You, me , everybody,we, see, only moonbeams,comets not so high,eathquakes in the sky,lalalight n short in hight and , nananight and it’s alright,lalalight n short in hight and , nananight and it’s alright, You light the way, through tunnels, try not the scrape, the gunnels,on the right a cave in sight, it’s alright not this timeon the right a cave in sight, it’s alright not this timelalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalaooooaaaaooooaaaaaooooooooooaaaaooooaaaaaooooooooooaaaaooooaaaaaooooooooooaaaaooooaaaaaoooooo Main Street When you called me up hereIdidnt feel like walkin, Now your sayin to me,youdidnt feel like talkinwhy are we so clumsy,so clumsy with our breadnow you tell me honey, how you keep your stomach fed, always lending yourself out, to the freaks that dot our lives,honey when you gunna shout, at those drones in out beehive,take a walk uptown, to the bucket where they drown,gunna tell them when they get out,to get theiur handouts downtown MorningAt the dawn of a new age,Sun comes up, smell the burning sage,take a step foreward, turn the pagesay goodbye to all those dark dark days, MAking a brew I stare a the fire,stir the pot, and then connect the wires,turn on the amp, the music inspires,got to free my mind from all the cheats and all the liars. Morningdrone You, you know what I mean, when isay,that nothings gunna happen today,and you, you know what imean,wheni tell you it’s just not my scene, you, yeees you, what the hell are we gunnado?and you, the only one you listen to, is a man, by the name of, Lou. We, yeees us three, could make it at a defferentpace,I, know that, it’s a discrace, Lord, take us to another place, So grab your stuff, your record albums,you take the wine, and ill take the guns, and into the ocean, we will go, cause you know, were headed, for the coast,so raise up your glasses, for a toast,ha, which one of us can drink the most,the father, theson, or the holy ghost,and you say that this car can race,but can it take us to that other place, a different side of mother natures face. take me to another place. Nothing drones honey comes from lots of work, sticky feet moving berserkpatterns form in crude beauty, drones fulfill a pointless duty, honey drips, from the hive, golden jkelly feeds their wife, pretty flowers messy home, nothing drones on like the cone, back and forth, in and out, dancing like we use our mouths,the pay is small and so are you, results of that sweetens my tooth, the task is never ending, constantly descending, dripping in the mouths of those not worth defending. Oppenheimer park Rolling down the open road, to the end of the line,end of the world, end of the illusion of time,I go down to the water, and feel the cool surf,hear music in the air and take it for what it’s worth, cant understand why people, could live on so little,when so much goes through them, and through the needle, so hasty, with the selling of their saved souls,the western downtown is bright, blunt, and bold. Walk up and down throughout the day, out of your mind,think of your home nevermore, till the end of timethe loop drones on and on like a broken clock,don’t need to climb the montain, cause your at the top Hastngs is not coming for you, your coming for it,like hell it bewccons like the incline of a pit,the east side, sits a nd people come from near and far,to sit, and sink, into the grass, in oppenheimer park oracle so your torched,your hanging by a thread,don’t scorch, your pretty little head,wishing through your lips that it worntpass,feels like your turning from a liquid to a gas, take a trip right to the edge of your mind, consciousness poured out and left behind,take a break from all the flats and all the sharpd,ride a cloud of nothing, and numb your broken heart To thew edge of your mind, distortion blurrs the line bettweenwhats out there and whats inside, deep in the cave, breath in the cold air,see shadows on the wall,… stare bring news just like homing pigeon,come down, and start a new religion, leave now, and speak out, littereally or metephorical,the knowledge you posess will make you the oracle. Pipe Dream A science experiment gone totally wronga weather balloon with some kind of evil about it,all the kids at school could see it above the horizon,my friends and i knew we’d be better off without it, king kong, walked along high street, where the freaks and thugs call home,if he could reach this floating disaster on time,he knew he would never have to die alone,hethough about it and realised the people wouldntunderstandhe knew their alien nation would turn this ape into a man, darkened minds turn on a dime, revolve in time along thin white linesyin and yang drip from a wolfs fang, one pulls the trigger the other goes band why can we get to the meaningof this philosophy of feeling, how do we break the silence of the checkerboard of violence. Darkened fool has lots of toolsd, dead at the deep end of the pool, boring times and pouring rhyme, the question, is this really mine? why can we get to the meaningof this philosophy of feeling, how do we break the silence of the checkerboard of violence. Psych em out Psychem out like rabid vermin, make em shout a phony sermon,see right through their simple game,right to their core their thoughts of shame, watchem blow upon the fire, rocks explode right on the liar, social change brings end to war, housewife trembles on the floor,backwardsforewards, up and downvoisc encircle all aorund, observeprecieve hear see know learn mirror be, identify possible flaws, of the menace with no causethe time is now, so try to learn how to bend the rules they use to keep you down. Rabbit hole Salvage you mind while it is illuminated, a fire out of control,a cabbage in ttime, right now it is fumigated, wired and housing a soul,badhabbits in line, schedualed to be terminated, inspire you out of your hole, A rabbit , redefined and underrated but higher than ever before, drink up while the tea is hot and bright blue, the flesh of the gods makes it so,3 caps and some stems is all i can do, to see shooting stars upon the snow, think sweetly of me, with emotions so true as yu stand and look through the window,think of thinkgs to do when im gone for good now, waving at the bus watching it go, Im down in the southland, with deep curving valleys and bridges all rusty and crumbling, with grasses all dying and rivers of green and subways whistling under me. a spot on the corner , a 30 dollar gutar, a case and a cigarette too, is all that i need to get usedd to my home and bring my mind closer to you. The last of this song, is all out of place, but the pace rings true to the rule, of the verses before i shut tight the door on the patterns lost and misconstrewen,becauseits all backwards and forewards like this, its in shambles but its not a ruin,the end of this 4 verse song has arrived, to the point you might not clue in. Sea of lights Rockj and rave, through the night,on speed in a sea of lights,jump spin contort thrust,black white pain lust,spent a week there last might, maybe more,steal yourself a holy death crouching by the door cause we all live in sin but it makes music sound new, go out on a limb, and let the world surround you, we rave through the atonal thrusts and the booms,tonight the flowers of evil are in full bloom, Standing there all in white, she sings in the spotlight, in darkness and style, we strum all the whilestanding all in black behind the vox stack, from behind sunglasses, we inspire the masses, cause we all live in sin but it makes music sound new, go out on a limb, and let the world surround you, we rave through the atonal thrusts and the booms,tonight the flowers of evil are in full bloom, Walk and talk it through the park,whiplashgirlchild in the darkrun run run, take a drag shoot your speed while you brag i’ve been orchestrating behind sunglasses,immitatingprodogy, and writer, man, tomboy and a throusand fans zeppelin spotlights on my brain exploding plastic in my veinhypnotyic tones as the propellers drone,mind bending sounds, resonate undreground, dak circles never weed, new york 1963, Chcmysic, velvet freak desensitize alter tweak, no money car moon or sun, sell your blood for heroin,if she ever comes now now, moe beat on that drum now now,pink perfume, mantra neumes silk screen factory tunes superstar test only the best wine coffee speed heroin rest,darkcircl;es never weep, new yourk 1963,theyve been up for weeks, in the white light the tweak, in 63 Skeleton Here we are again, moneys all been spent, you don’t know where hesbeen,hes trying to fend off things that dwell within, hes a skeleton. at the end of days hes been here before he says, narrow in mannyways,hes a skeleton,andidont know where hesgoin, or why he thinks itssnowin, he can see the wind thatsblowin, hes a skeleton, Spotlight Reap what you sew,snakes and poppys in her hair,sun flowers in the snow,make you look like your not so old,it had been so long i could not recall her face,she came outside to meet me though iwas’t her case,nowi sit and wonder if I’m out of place,the memories i had of her, are in outer space Standing all in white, she sings in the spotlight, in darkness and style, we strum all the while,on the odd days I could talk to her,harmony and dissonence, a modern venus in furs,up and down that hallway, rotating the earth,waiting there for hours and hours, for her the quench my thirst. Sweet grass summertime,see the star shine, and i don’t mind revisiting those times,although my mind is blown, i play the drone,saying goodbye while you’re getting stoned. Vicious lips oooooo what to do,iwanna see you too,i think imgoin mad, ooooim not that sad noooi wonder sometimes where you are,what moon what planet under what star,id like to think your not that far, but we both know that trip was hard your vicious lips, eard on the airwaves, waking the dead, from their graves,your sweet, but your toxic, been three weeks since you dropped itI found it in my pocket, your trains comin I cant stop it You Made Me the reaper, put the beat on hold, turns to dust when they turn to dope,promises, he couldntkeep,to save a life, only three feet deep,you’re my catalyst, myonliness, decemberbaby,im the creep you made me,you’re my catalyst, myonliness, decemberbaby,im the creep you made me,the reaper, put the beat on hold, turns to dust when they turn to dope,promises, he couldntkeep,to save a life, only three feet deep,you’re my catalyst, myonliness, decemberbaby,im the creep you made me, Come Back Around JAMES MCFARLANE·FRIDAY, MAY 13, 201610 Reads The process as a whole is always a learning experience like no other. Ultimately, like the brain has a recognition and physical atribute that corresponds with most chemicals in nature (possibly even synthetic chemicals) the psychological functions that a person can aquire are almostordaned and recieved in a timely fashion by the organ and im assuming the subconscious effortlessly and for evolutionary purpose. So I will assume everyones own, (however existential), growth experience is interesting. Having the atribute of spiking and deminishing of at least two of the brains most important chemicals related to experience, and behavior… and the awareness of the (most obvious to you) potential for not only chemical related occurances and their ripple effect, but the behavioral methods that the acute brain, manic brain, almost has a natural function to excercise and use usually either for a better survival or further expansion into astonishing existential and soon to be investigated parapsychological, social behaviors that tend to stick as long as they serve in a new type evolutionary (ie “Counter intuative”, productive and humanistic beavior that the mind eagerly draws in like an antennae recieving and storing up valueable energy. Setting this agenda and also surviving the early episodes, of bipolar, (which are usually the most drastic) are two hurdles to get over, let alone the crude, almost sickening archetectural features in our community hospitals, thats purpose cannot be desguised as heathcare to the human eye. A grossly overused assortment of bondage equipment and isolation chambers (not to mention your absence of any dignifying articles of clothing( also to be moved and set in place on occasion) nowadays plate glass walls, a whole dungeon setup designed by those people involved no less, who really probably care wheather the colour they chose or how their design would function better than the decaying sweat soaked ultimately in our home towns case, my favorite case, dried blood stained, apparenty approved for use by some dr, a single hallway, to alk up and down seemingly endlessly, untill not suprisedby the inevitable dread code white, that is the delight for the predominantly, …listen t me… dominated, by your average practicing as ferociously as they can with as little effort as possible, sociopath and more importantly to re ognise, violent violators psychopaths, who pretymch have the real pl working there stressin over what could possibly be these ppls capabilities, and are alienated inside by this evil thay cannot risk their ,,, virtully anything valuable, like a job or who knows, omg… thats why she left,,,,, so, yaa, these ppl rise like cream, annnnnd they have a really good time eeeehm, .. now nurse practitioners or legends, thir former dominator look like theyve aged, well lets say i was convinced they had beeen using prolongued use on heavy stimulents, like crack. iloldrewaout a blueprint with symboldsfr the patient advocate, neaysi mostly wantd to write and its alot of shit thats gone no doubt as home with ,,,lets say u know like fat cat. what, i was 15, and he was fat then, now hes the last one standing up there that i know of. oh yea… so i would say if u want out, and as of late i thing the design is perfect for the right ppl, socios included, fuckers, but, the dr, they are jst as careless as the security guards who cant hide haw stupid the really are and the odd couple who are revealing that their ok, still, idicovered, ,, maybe not in north bay, but in a proper community, like the city, ………..lost my train,,,, i think that i was getting at how just to be fair and …eyea 50 percent of the staff endowd with the ability to weildstrapps, and are encouraged by their no doubt under educated superiors, to always have the wrist ready to be broken if, now this brings me back,,,, they chokeyou, than comes the bondage that betty page would think is very unatractive, idk,,, the thing is,,, ya the drs, oh waut,, ok…. 1/3 of all of them are,,,, exculding the drs, and the janitors, who if ihaventdiscosedya are always there to pile up on a code white, and i know,, listen to me, no janitor ive met would grab my ass so hard on such a numerous a pile up, i have eyes in theback f my head,,,,,,, italalot,,,,,,, ppl that work so hard tp climb so not that far up the ladder in society, yes, sum of them are costume rocking witchcrftprodiges, who, will, 1 take the whole bunch of guys .. it may have been the forensic unit,,, this little thing is known by ,ppl, ive talked to about the psych who are inderectyl told by their others who work it, and ave stories about the oddity of us. iduno,, alot went down, but,, boring s yea she walks me throught e bysantine conduit iup to the floor, and the police have to walk somewhere behind to uncuff me and ta da, , y o iwanna bring up corporeal action when the best times,,, due to the conditios of bondage uuuuuuuuuuh were strictly through plate glass,,,,, ie. rare appearenced that are pretty much the only way. i really was bloody fucking thirsty 8percent and i mea ya,, when i was younngti chewed up braaaaan and drank my watttaaeer, and drew peace sighnsandd 7 days laterrrrr, after she sumhow managed to get an earbud into my head screaming for any colour you like by pink floyd, and playd the fungsonhggg, badassss. straight jacket. prolly day 4,,,,, i still think cough syrop is good for teenagerswhatver,,m took me to the top. ok… to get offf, the ward do as such; by Ultimately drawin on to no apparent end in crayons complete with nicotine gum (smokes,, the only freedom, not yet a right, that is so hard to get,,,,, and i learned to smoke in side the scarborough general hospitol,,, that room soon became the chamber, i would be locked in, for manny weeks, at different times,, thats where alot also hapened, is where the nude bondage asianfemaldr, ..whati mean i s theatwwhatwuldlou reed say… they never forgave us for nagasaki.,,, newaysive never spent more time in a i also a what appears to be and have bben told by assdocter of the north bay pstychwhi took to court at the hospitol and he got yelled at by a panel while my dad defended him and i ate cookies cus ii was really manic,,,, i also was 15 1/2… he later let me try and commit suicide,, thats a story of a different colour,, sounds like sprockets, idk,, idontwafe war with very real religiossympomatic shat, iuuuuuhm , so,,,, hereswahat krb8tujvcklwelbutrin.,,, ya, it istaken orally it shoul get right to work in three ad a half weeks, if suicidal,,,,, pray, oooir if u cant get dxedrine,, or sum speed beane drink a bottle of childrensgeapecoughsyrup once a day,,,, this acts as a seritonin reuptake inhibitor of a differrentcolour. 2 to 4 hours,,,iu get the mental stimulation,, it reall is a mellow buzz butttttyupppidecare fuck cough syrop…… dexedrineisnt out there and i know it couould really bbe used and they aslso do,, ie. jfk, addisons disease, dexedrine/anphetamine. so,, it will make y0ur 90 year old great aunt we all frogot about over in blind river get up from the abyss of alzheimers and dementia and sing thins is the day that the lord hath made,, ,but with real and concious interaction,,, without memory of course. however,,, she does that,,, did that anyway , but,,, im sure every month not every day,, at least one trial of … iuffingadhd adults can take it,,, why cant she. smeared into the grate of every window and the classy bubble rooom which actually was made with enough pride according to the regionnsid say, to have an even more, almost funny, and certainly battered scratched and spat on bubble for the head psychiatrist t poke his head into every few days. Lets not froget how that scene ended. like my father and grandfather before me who conditioned and alterred the correctiona institutions for fifty fife years now a conmfortablevacatin for psychopaths and whoever, not even the hole could stand up to point blank restraints naked, with your flimsy gown around your chest. at least in the bubble room there was lots of privacy, u know, to each institution their own, glass , bubble blood stained, probably 60 years of ppl that somehow said something that attracted the attention of their nurse, who no doubt vollynteered after printing your file which is most likely epic thick, there is no room for any of their creative stylings in that no, i did just smash the wall into pieces and ya all the insulatin is everywhere, high five and respect from my cute transference mistress, (and a couple others.) Perverts Dictionary (O_o))))))))))))) Trilateral — jinx No doubt — yes, super Doble- adorable, dobles, adobles Straight up — forthrightly, correct, right, or goof Throwing babies makes them gay Avant garde — protect the old (art) stay the same Downtown, — quiet not ratting Technology — rewind/splice mp3 interchangable Right up — shooting up Not up — free (not in trouble) Word — “my promise” new word, yes Naw — ya goof / no Buzz out — use vibrator / get high Drone- parapsychological anomalie Phe — speed (methanphetamenes) Stellar — awsum / the sun / single thing Figure — shape (claivoiance) One — god / goof Out-gay or leaving No doubt — ur gay / im gay. (For sure (im a whore)) straight up In — a goof out “my thing ‘ — claivoiant animation (repeated) Pentagon/circuit — terrific Duality — love or contrast in nature Straight — not gay or no drugs Up-in torouble/retarded/fucked Goof — crazy p/pedophile / molester/rapist/asshole Pervert-whore/hooker Asshole-incessant talker(mean) Solid-honest reliable Ethereal — heavely, sticky, Bird- girl pervert , moron Badass-pervert/violent, missile Idiot –saying nething Toad- smaker (heavy) old vagina A hard — a stiffy Eh eh- turning vol down and then up to trick parents in the 70s in quebec Bonhome — dildo, goof, good man Ein — get in /out (here) goof (French) ass hole/vagina Institution/church shouting= good Tabernacle-chest Coalis-chalise Zeut-fuck Fuck- rape/damnet or sex Stomping — raping Bang out- beat on Beat up — gay kids trying to get their frieing off violently Rank out — make someone stink by working them or hurting them / cast someone out canadian military style (gay) , gang up on someone till they freak out (psychopaths do it all over Canada)’ Trast- drunk /party/water Dai-morning, cool, fun, ausum, hello! Good-goof Story along-paranormal happening involving ancestral memory Psychic-all in one, prophet telepath Telepathic — mind to mind talker, thinker Telekinetic- moving things/ ppl Claivoiance- seeing colour from other ppls minds Rod-skyfish/fast moving anomaly animal Vaj-old or young vagina Oss — dog or baby vagina Grandma- bag in tree Candy — transsexual My honey — sexy (on the wind(throwing laughter(female))) Beating off — complex Wacking off-pervert Jerking off — solid (female) Move-walk / go Mullet-militia Freak –goof (black word) Ca — crap — crow call Germ freak-someone who forces germs on ppl Quay-(beautiful woman (cunt) — woman) latin Mead-morphene Rin — heroin (dust / cookie crumble) Beans — speed pills Rids — Ritalin No shit- of course Jib-meth Hellfire — run off meth (bad) Food — crack Molly-mdma /e Bombs — ecstacy cid — Acid (lsd) shrooms-magic mushrooms sterl — brother (little) afgan weed — brown pot kife — bad weed (shake) leaves) shibby — cool/goof cool-gay/awsum fade white — see white on od (heroin/mescelin(go to heaven/hell)) road — freedom — out of institution the suck — mescalin myth ast — perversion telekinetic- asty sortof meta/physical movement from the brain outwardly god — goof — one or christ lady stink — female deodorant leave it — shirt on chest (gay /bi) stop it hiboit gland — make you fat cured with amricain medicine merican — goof citizen of America Canadian- a sovereign citizen of Canada (incestewous clown) Were done — end releationship British — gay mongerers Nono –nig mistake Famished — thirsty / starved Sent — innocent Pervert — to change something and make it last nothing — absence, bipolar universai — multiple universes psykinetics — telepathy / telekinetics/claivoiance geniupsy — psykinetic offspring genius — generating new thought (brilliant) bipolar- up and down serotonin and dopamine, psychopath — violent person sociopath — not caring about neone oppositional defiant — opposing help borderline personality — victim misbehaving schitzophrenic — high fixed dopamine, fixed seretonin (normal)\ drone — unpiloted airplane, good worker, artist , schitzophrenic dick — enlarged clitoris get out of here — come here little child aced — gay men trying to get pregnant, daughter , sqaired away k — ketamine ass — dad/grandfather hun — little stut( skank) brecky — greek (breakfast) supper — jewish (Dinner) brecko — Italian (breakfast) avatar — ethereal image of oneself asshole — girl or boy or rapist (north bay / Chicago)\ goof — sad or sexy ethereal image from shame can be cured with desensitization (knumbaning) (telepathic) ya — pedophile dude — black pedophile Italian cowboy, fake doctor (candadian) huffin — pretending to be someone else while using telekinteicks in a sexual fashion. sadomasochist — paingiver/enjoyer earphoning — hearing ppl in ypur speaker — hold speaker up to ear and hand over other ear, psychopaths recommendation pur — rapist/pervert uggz — ug;y phile — pedophile ace — gays — rape — sister — grandma-brother path — telepath or a psychopath/sociopath, can — male whore cop- fake police (pedophile) musac — music laid — losing virginity glowie — acid victims (creep) ente old stupid goof dex — cough syrup bed down — tie to bed (north bay) fuck right off — screw my girlfriend\ fuck off — go cop the u- universe no shit — definitely mangina — friend spect-respect right up — repect straight up — disguise Italian — scot Adisguzi — disgusting excuse me No shit- really? Love — goodbyek“love”  and the knowledge that one can be loved and in my case always, I only philosophise with the partial use of solid evidence that I have been loved by the one I love therefore at and for that moment(pretty much after the moment my phone died, after 30 seconds of reading trainpotting aloud, there was a subconscious subjective foggy notion that was there to be discovered by the psyche,  at this moment I can prove using circumstancial evidence and truth know by both partied involved, the dependant factor being me loving her forever, and the independent factor her being a single indesisive woman looking for a man who will love her forever combining to make a positive chemical and psysical reaction, that is the fundamental tradition that is the goal of all living thngs on this plant and its most evolutionary form of it is when it’s “Love based” one giving the other what its most in need of and deprived of, the others love, not the love of a friend, but physical experiments that are love based, expressing love on not neccesarily a physical level (like if ur on the phone or sumthing)but specifically a sexual level. The compounding factors that result in reactions happenings cresendoes babies,, are when the energy isnt circular but moves in one direction, when the one party is starved, an the other has a wealth, and the act of giving not just what the yearning needs, but what  he wants, when the desired with all her wealth, emparts her secret harboured denied expression love though tradional reproduction based activities, that friendship goes from “limbo” into action, even for a moment, through technology that alerts the senses, in this case hearing, wheather the deprived is even present or physically participating, isn’t the point the point is that the foggy notion of true love was expressed transmitted in a traditional and pivitol form, even though I picked up the transmission through one sense,  my ability to hear, the value of those vibrations, though lo-fi and misenterperted until the last few seconds before the line went dead (FUCK), were interperated and acknowledged and the whole venus in furs philosophy of the one party giving the other what it wants so bad, but has been denied, and doing it with love, or what they BOTH KNOW is the kind of love that’s needed and given over finally with effortless,  voluntary participation from the dominant, resuling in satisfaction in bohe parties (in my case the girl and I were more harmonized cause it was love based. Sex based, and send in the sacred medium of sound, and the talisman, the artifact, the memory the high velocity evidence that the message was of high fidelity, was that she didn’t use descriptive words (language) I was unfortunately (my medium at the time) it was her specific instrumental natural sirens alerting me to the intentions that truly lied behind her actions towards me  even if it was for that day only, this medium I collected from the field is highly obvious and irreplaceable piece of art that is regarded by the mind of the homosapien on a natural level as evidence that it not just social interacton, its a higher form of interaction, sexual yes, the highest form, occurs only when the truly loving is truly loved, on a sexual level, which indicates physical involvement,  and it did, only on one side, the side of the desired, the starvd had revieved the intention, and it was love, something metaphysical that can only be cofimed as occurring for ne length of time is undeniable corporeal action, even if its just her, givin er to you reading literature over the phone, the gift of reassurance that you are loved in this memorable case was not through words, but audible expressions from the depths of physical and mental activity from her diaphragm through her vocal chords and into my eardrum, was evidence enough that our seemingly healthy and thriving friendship was being held in limbo while I struggled with life and suffered over the denial of the true real deal love you were harbouring and saving in yourself for the future, didn’t dim and go out like a candle that burned up all the wax. Without official acknowledgement celebration and because I was still fucked up, without the long lasting  relationship that we wished wold follow and planned for, the sound of her primal sirens, sent mono ideo-dnamically from her entire physical being emitting frequencies that resonate with the earth around her and correspond with the stimuli, me, the correspondence being the brief experience of hearing the broadcast of it, acknowledging the fact that no matter how flawed or un aware I was prior to precieving what was transpiring an how classicly themed to fit my experience it was, that the fucking phone died before I heard the end of it, I clued in to what was going on, (id been informed of this “drone”she makes by her ex boyfriend (the other guy) right before he drove his helpful and convenient car out of her life)  Even if it was “her being noisy” it was fundamental sensual body chemistry, stimulated physically by the best means she knew how mentally by the imperative consciousness of the presence of the instinctualy, reproductivly essential of (in her case) a genuine male emitting stimuli, in both of our cases the stimuli was audio. The rare and most modern evolutionary trait is the simultaneous(I say this empathetically because were using language the figure this out not a live experiment going on right now or some shit) Emotional involvemint by both parties “while during coitus” bein, to into words, (I know that you’ve been loveing me so im gunna love you back) tho words are sweet but it doesn’t compare to the same message sent in the biologically, exceptional quality thats essential to the balance of the bodies involved and there connection to one another, the planet and the unverse, sound and where it comes from and the intention or involuntary reason for its presence and amplitude, dissonant or harmonious, perhaps my reading, my being on the line was the drone, and the harmony was her dissonant siren song. Its our new found puprose as humans to when ready reproduce.  Love is highly evolved, and requires corporeal and linguistic and energetic action on both parties to be confirmed as true love. It works like a battery(the casing of the battery is the relationship here), one end needs what the other end has access to; the positive end has its own energy attached to it(the juice in the battery, posetve energy),(in this case this is our one, the girl)attractive body(+end)and a mind (the positive ends underside that’s harboring all the energy in the friendship/relationship (battery casing)the negative port on the other end of the battery on its outside (my mind in this case)is permanently attached through the casing of the battery to the mind of the desired, this girls memories thoughts etc. (the underside of the positive end) and not her body. Why because the casing is plastic,( the friendship) isnt enough to join the two to create a circuit, but the love(the battery juice made up of strange elemets) attracted by her negative mind(the underside of the positive end) and makes her body(the tip) fertile and ready to create electricity(communication) only the casing of battery acid(loving friendship)charged by my positive actions(the acid is positively charged by the underside of my mind(the negative ends underside) which represents my body, which behaves like the warm intentions of my actions, which positively go nowhere unless her mind (negative underside of the top of the battery)gets inspired by the love in the friendship (which is positively charged yearning, my positive actions played lovingly into her open mind(negative underside of the top) inspiring her to do something with her body(top of the battery positive) in response to my positive charge on her mind and all the love it can unleash,  for the sake of warm intentions she turns on a cell phone,, her phone(or wire casing) the copper thread in the wire(the signal) the positive charge in the wire, (her calling me) and her hooking up the wire touching it to the negative end of the battery(her bodies actions and warm intentions inspired by a recognisable charge I embody that she identifies with(my body and life being negatively charged with aa positive mind and her beautiful face and attractive personality.)  my phone rings and I see its her, the one, I immediately am inspired that its her charge the one im missing positively lovely, what is she up to? and i pick it up, A simple circuit at this point, is her using a tool or wire to send all her positive energy through to her body by using her minds attraction to positive energy, by simply attaching the wire it sends the positive energy not just through her mind and body but back down on her body, when the extension (the wire) is put on my mind(the negative end of the battery in this case, my mind),deliberately by her, sending the energized current of the love in our friendship (juice in the battery) into my mind(the end of the battery with a bump) by way of the wire (cell phone signals connecting our phones and her voice and energy being the current) all the positive energy meets the negative charge of my mind and then that foreign female tone (positive electrical current) the positive energy stemming from the juice, the love, that’s made up of elements like lithium(in the case of the battery and in my case as well) this element and other alloys, the whole chemistry of the battery acid, holds the charge positive because energy flows, and love or acid can be charged by the bi polarity of conducters meaning they are opposing one anothers charge on the outside leaving potential for power over nature,  while on the inside, inside the battery the compounding nature of the universe is seen between you and me, me and the chemicals and elements the acid the love that is positively charged by me and only me, in this battery regardless of proximity my charge is still the key, litteraly loving you moved energy directly making me alternately free but obviously reflects its imperfections symetricaly and quite similarly to your perfect face and body  only introspectively and this thing I call negativity you existentially use to control and manipulate me by means of electrical currents like a shark in the sea, but the ocean currents in our world somehow moved me so far we couldn’t be but as the drone turns up the heat as chemists cure insanity, inevitably the duality of the friendship followed the trail right back to me,  from the beach into the city,  while metaphysical acid rain fell on her black umbrella,  drops of synthetic nightshade provided a ground and a side effect equaled a perfectly balanced sound resembling a circuit around my neck and down to the nervous wreck, I stand and smoke out on the deck, and remember that was how we met I  stop, wait my energys charge self provides, enough energy to survive, with my new social activity the acid, charge, size, speed and proximity and  the voltage of the current and relativity. My positively charged ablilitys that betray the moon like your fertility, a simple circuit cant explain the lovesick emotional pain still forming drops of acid rain only strengthening my brain, its time I have to get reactive, send this to her radically brilliant highly attractive yet negatively charged mind where chemicals of another kind will get inspired as she reads about batteries and his energy (that she secretly lovingly keeps rightfully under her locks and key with her sharp mind and memory should recall the flattery,  the almost dead battery, poetic licence and mad hattery finally gets me through the matter we, lost all sense of pattern, see, the point was electricity, and keyboards I would never see, played like a former prodigy, with drones that resonate with me just barely metaphysically, through my sleep deprived behavior induced heightened state, Ive always been able to wait, epiphanies sometimes come too late, but revelations give me faith that your negative mind and my positive state, memories of how u altered fate, I know theres more to come but wait, don’t get offended by my state , my batteries dead so save the date, remember wiser things I’ve depictions finished in your head, an electrician would have briefly said, what took me hours,  in ten minutes u will have read, I must finish without my meds, theyd knock me out, blow to the head, ill miss away you time instead,  that lilliad inside your mind

[its-rockin-pete]

Thank You for Your Candor

Notes and Description

I feel like Peter didn't really have much of a history or backstory, so I decided to play around and make one up. I know that in the books, his father dies a different way, but I figured that since pretty much nothing I was writing was canon, I was allowed to change things up. I also didn't know his parent's names, I made them up. Anyway, I'd love feedback and thoughts! 

There are four chapters, so i’m gonna post the first two today and the other two tomorrow!

(Please keep in mind that I haven't gotten around to reading the books yet, I simply did my research online as well as based things off of the movies, so if I got any details wrong, I apologize! I think I did a pretty good job, but hey, I could be wrong.)

Chapter 1

Transfer

“You can’t stay here. I don’t care what your result was, you cannot stay here.”

Even though I knew what my mother had just said was true, I mean, how could I not be upset?

“Are you kidding? No, you know what, you’re right. I can’t stay here. Not with you constantly breathing down my back and bitching at me for no reason.”

I could really tell that I had just struck a nerve.

“Do you need to leave right now?”

I immediately got quiet. The fact that my mom seemingly wouldn’t care if I left the day before the ceremony hurt like a bitch.

“Peter Hayes, I don’t know what the hell happened, but the older you got, I began to realize that I raised a selfish, narcissistic, liar. A liar. You don’t belong here. I mean- You’re constantly getting into random fights, and you talk to me like I didn’t birth you and spend sixteen years of my life raising you. You got everything you ever wanted and needed growing up. I spoiled you and I tried my best to be a good mother, but according to you, I’ve failed.”

She’s never said things like this before- hearing her tell me how she honestly felt about me almost made me feel sick. I really didn’t know what to say. I wanted to apologize, but something inside of me made it impossible.

“Fine. Well, you’ll be happy to know that you won’t have to see my face again after tomorrow. Thanks for your honesty.”

I threw my jacket onto a kitchen chair and walked out of my own house like I was an unwelcome stranger. As I was on my way out, I heard my mom trying to apologize, but I quite frankly didn’t wanna hear it. There was no taking back what she said.

I hate to admit that she was right.

I wasn’t sure where I was going, but at the same time, I didn’t care. Nobody else cared, so why the hell should I? After about fifteen minutes of aimlessly walking around town though, I finally decided on a location. Headquarters.

Chapter 2

Big Small Talk

The doors were locked as expected, so I pulled out my pocket knife and got to work. It felt wrong, but it's not like I was planning on stealing anything. Unless of course, I changed my mind when I got inside. There's not much to steal anyway, just some files that nobody really cares about, books, and yeah, there are weapons stored on a few floors, but pretty much every faction has guns. Imagine all the cool shit you could steal from Erudite headquarters though- they're loaded with all sorts of serums and technology. Erudite has always been seen as a pretty shady faction though; but I mean, all the more reason to consider transferring, right?  Might as well get some excitement out of life. I can't fucking stand Abnegation, so there would be no way in hell I’d step foot there, and Amity definitely isn't for me. All that love and happiness bullshi-

“Come on, damn it!”

As I was thinking, I was doing a horrible job at maneuvering my pocket knife between the latch of the two doors due to my lack of focus.

"Need some help?"

I quickly pulled my knife from between the two doors and turned around to see who my witness was. 

It was Molly.

"What are you doing out here?"

She pulled out her ID card and swiped it in front of the scanner. "I was out on my porch smoking a cigarette and saw you headed this way." She pulled the door open and held it for me- "So I follow you. You're always up to no good…" she shook her head and playfully smirked, “Why are you here?”

She followed me inside as I began to look around, observing little details that I might not have before, like the way the light reflected off of the marble floors, or how high the ceilings actually were. Stupid stuff like that.

“I dunno. ‘Figured it couldn’t hurt to say goodbye.”

“You’re leaving?” She sounded surprised for some reason.

“You’re not?”

She followed me as I continued to look around, picking up a book and skimming a few pages.

“Of course I’m leaving… My folks gave me some long speech about how I should follow who I really am, which is so unlike them, but I guess parents just know when it comes to these things…”

I put the book back and continued walking- “I guess so.”

“How’s your mom handling all of this?”

“Really well actually.”

She looked at me and raised her eyebrows, pausing before speaking again. She was probably trying to figure out if I was bullshitting or not.

“Really? I would’ve thought that she’d be losing her ever-loving mind begging you to transfer.”

I smirked and tilted my head to look at her, “Me too. She really hasn’t even said much about the ceremony. She didn’t even ask about my aptitude test. All she said was that she wanted me to be happy.”

Lying as always. I feel like I was just trying to convince myself that that's what really happened.

“Huh… Sounds sus to me… You sure she’s not hiding anything from you?”

I paused having no idea where a thought like that would even come from. “...Like what?”

“I don’t know… Maybe she wants you to leave so you don’t dig up any dirt on her. Maybe she’s purposely giving you some slack to make you wanna transfer.”

I became suspicious of her little theory; it was a bit too specific for my liking.

“What are you talking about?”

She hesitated for a minute before saying anything else. The silence of the room made things even more tense.

“Don’t you think your father’s death seemed a little- strange? Nobody just ‘goes missing’ and turns up dead like that...”

I immediately turned to look at her head-on. “What?”

“N-nothing… Nevermind, I was just thinking-”

“Thinking what, that my mother is responsible for my father’s death? Are you kidding me? My mother is a lot of things, but she’s not a murderer.”

She looked at me with that stupid “I know you’re pissed, but I’m not backing down” face, but stayed silent.

“You know what? That's your problem, Molly, you're always sticking your nose into other people’s business. I don’t understand why it's so hard for you to just worry about your own problems and keep your stupid mouth shut.”

She gawked at me and scoffed- “You’re one to talk, you just never know when to stop! It’s not my fault that everyone but you knows that your crazy mom took a knife to your daddy’s chest.”

I instantly lost control of my temper and lunged at her, gripping the collar of her jacket in my fists and slamming her against a pillar.

“Say it again, I fucking dare you.”

She stared back at me showing no signs of fear- it honestly only pissed me off more.

“Can’t handle the truth, Hayes? You’re Candor-born, it should be in your blood, you fucking coward.” She elbowed me in the chest and I let go of her. I didn’t know what to think at this point. I didn’t know what to do. I just stared at the ground and listened to her footsteps against the marble floor as they became more distant.

“See you tomorrow, Big Man. Choose wisely.”

I watched her leave and not even bother to look back. She brought up my dad, called me a coward, and my mother a murderer, and didn’t even glance at me as she left. What a friend… I can't believe I used to have feelings for that.

I looked around and really started to think about what had just happened. What if Molly was right? I never really did get a true explanation for my father’s death. I was only eight when he died and I was simply told that he went missing, but when I got older, my mother explained to me that they found his body far outside of Candor territory. She called it a suicide.

My father, although he was mostly distant and cold, never seemed like the type of man who would just off himself like that. He was a powerful, brave, courageous, and loud personality. He was actually one of the big names in our faction. He kind of held things together alongside Jack- although, Jack had much more power than my father.

I stood there and continued to think, and suddenly I got an idea. A horrible, brilliant idea.

[shewas-agaystripper]

The Clinic: Chapter 18/Epilogue

The Clinic: Part Eighteen/Epilogue

Brian is sent off to Queen Mary’s Psychiatric Hospital to cure his depression and borderline. His roommates, John in particular, help him push through this difficult time in his life

Alleluia guys, this is it - the epilogue of The Clinic, and with that, the end of this story! I want to thank you all so much for sticking with me through the year (yes, it's really been about a year!) that it's taken me to write this story, and I'm so grateful for all your comments, kudos, efforts, encouragements, your honesty, love, and enthusiasm during this process. I appreciate you all so much and I could not have done this without your support. I started writing this to come to terms with my own diagnosis of depression and BPD and to hope to understand myself and people around me better, and it's been such a tumultuous road, but it's been worth it. I think this is a story I've written that will stay with me for a long time, as will all the kindness you as readers have shown to me as both a writer and a person.

Enough of that now - I hope you will enjoy the last chapter/epilogue/whatever you want to call this final chapter, and I'm hoping to see you all back at my new projects - which, in time, will include a sort of spin-off of The Clinic Universe!

Just one more thing - I was listening to some devotional music the other day (I don't do this too much usually, but I've got a soft spot for the music of the Taizé Youth Monastery music, the place I've visited twice now and hope to visit many times again) when one particular song stood out to me in relation to The Clinic, and Brian's and John's relationship in specific - with how they love each other for what they are and how they strengthen each other. I just wanted to share these particular lines from the song Take Me As I Am with you:

Take, oh take me as I am Summon out what I shall be Set your peace upon my heart and live in me

Thanks for everything guys, I love you all!

xxx Silke Maria

P.s. Normally I’d link all the previous chapters here, but as SOMEONE @staff) deleted my whole entire blog, they’re now gone. If you haven’t read the previous chapters yet, or would like to reread them first, here is the whole thing on my AO3 account!

Have fun reading, and any sort of feedback or suggestions is appreciated!

‘You’ve got your guitar, Deaky?’

‘I put it in the back of the car,’ John answered the man who appeared in the door opening, demonstrating this fact by tapping the trunk of the green-bluish Fiat 124 he was leaning against. John had been out in the November morning for a bit now to put his bass and his coat in the car and wait on Brian, who had mainly been engaged with comforting his mother that they’d drive safely and that they would not forget to bring a bottle of water and matters similar to these. Having a doting mother hovering over you was not something John was used to for most of his life, but he had gotten used to it as a fact of life - one he did not mind at all, really - as soon as he’d moved in with Brian’s family after leaving Queen Mary’s Psychiatric Institution.

Brian stepped out of the doorway and walked towards him. ‘Great. I’ll put the lady in there also.’

John fished the keys out of the pocket of his trousers and opened the trunk of the car for his partner. ‘Still can’t believe you’re actually calling her that.’

‘And that’s you talking! You just referred to Red Special as a ‘her’ yourself!’ Brian reminded him while gently laying down his most prized possession. Or alternatively, as he once said in a half-giggly, half-sappy mood, his most prized possession directly after John - which had earned him a snort and a peck on the cheek.

‘That’s just you rubbing off on me,’ John defended himself.

Brian reached out both arms to close the trunk again, but even before it came down with an audible slam!, John could already see the grin tugging at his lips. Turning towards John again with wiggling eyebrows, he said: ‘Me rubbing off on you, huh?’

‘Please.’ John rolled his eyes, and then hit Brian with the most powerful threat he had come to learn while living with him and his family. ‘I’m telling your mum.’

Brian grimaced - even though he knew John was just joking, the mere idea of his boyfriend letting his parents in on their dirty talk, be it serious or completely ridiculous, was not a pretty prospect in his mind. ‘Sure. I love having mum wash my mouth out with soap like she did when I was ten.’

Being particularly in the mood for good-natured teasing that morning, John answered: ‘I mean, given that that’s the only dental hygiene you get these days-’

‘Deaky!’ Brian interrupted him indignantly, but John could see the smile shining through. ‘That was once, and only because I didn’t feel like getting out of bed.’

‘I know, love,’ John soothed, and, after having had a quick look around the otherwise empty street, he leant in to give Brian a kiss on the lips, both as to prove that he trusted Brian to have brushed his teeth that morning, and to test if he actually had. ‘Fresh like peppermint. Just as I like it.’

‘Hm-hm,’ Brian hummed in confirmation. ‘I didn’t feel like brushing my teeth, so like ate a roll of mints.’

‘You’re the worst,’ John told him.

‘Why? Because I didn’t leave any mints for you?’

John snorted. ‘Just get in the car.’

‘Fair,’ Brian laughed. He took the keys that John reached out to him and walked to the right side of the car. John walked the other way, but just as the soft click of the doors opening prompted them both to get inside, they were distracted by a woman’s voice calling to them.

‘Boys! Boys, you didn’t take your lunch out of the fridge!’ Brian turned around to see his mother, dressed in her ankle-length morning gown and with her perm rollers still in her hair, marching through the door and making her way towards the car. Her cheeks were flushed with hurry, and to make matters worse, as she paddled closer to them, he noticed a pair of pink bunny slippers on her feet, and he could hardly oppress a groan of embarrassment. He had finally gotten over the initial embarrassment of having John see his mum in her morning attire during these past months, but that did not mean he was ready for the Wilson family from down the street to see his mother in this state of undress.

‘Mum, you’re out here in your morning gown!’ Brian loudly stated the obvious. ‘And what lunch do you mean?’

‘The lunch I packed for you both!’ his mother said, half out of breath by the time she stood in front of her son, and reached two tinfoil wrapped packages towards him. Brian smiled, but did not take the little bundles from her.

‘Thanks, mum, but we won’t be needing lunch. We’ll only be gone for an hour.’

‘Nonsense,’ his mother countered. ‘Visiting hour is an hour on its own, but it’s a forty-five-minute drive, both to and back. And then the searching! I remember having to wait for almost half an hour to be searched because there was only one guard available for the work. And when they got to me, they nearly stripped me to my bra and panties!’

The mental image this description left behind in Brian’s brain was even worse than the current sight of his mother in her dressing gown, perm rollers, and bunny slippers, and he found himself sighing. ‘Thanks mum, now I won’t be needing lunch anymore for sure.’ He heard John emit a strangely adorable giggle, but his mum was not so impressed with his comment.

‘Darling, don’t be stubborn… You’ll regret not having anything to eat if you get hungry on the way back,’ she told him. Then, when Brian remained unmoving both mentally and physically while she stretched the packages towards him, she decided she might have better luck with her son-in-law.

‘John, you take it with you, dear,’ she ordered as she made her way around the car to the place where John had been waiting to get into the passenger seat. ‘Better safe than sorry.’

‘Of course,’ John agreed, finally relieving Ruth of the bundles of food she had prepared for them. ‘Thanks, Mum,’ he said with a smile that earned him an approving pat on the shoulder.

‘You’ve got everything, then? Some water? Your driver’s license and your ID cards? They ask for those upon entering Queen Mary’s.’

‘Yes, we have those,’ Brian answered.

‘And your coats? It can be cold in there!’

‘They’re in the trunk,’ John answered Ruth when he could tell by the slightly annoyed look on Brian’s face that he was not in the mood to be cross-examined about his preparations for their tour by his mother.

‘Great. All ready to go then,’ Ruth gave her blessing and took a step back, which was the unspoken signal for John and Brian to get into the car. Especially Brian wasted no time in doing so, tearing open the door, stepping in somewhat clumsily due to the modestly sized car not being an entirely perfect match for his height, and closing it behind him as soon as possible. He had been the one to say all morning that he did not want to be late under any circumstances, and this uncalculated meddling of his mother right before they were going to leave did not entirely fit into his planning.

John, on the other hand, remained unstressed despite it all. He knew they had plenty of time left - it was hardly half-past nine, and with the journey only taking an estimated forty-five minutes, there was no way they would be late just because Ruth asked them a handful of questions. He therefore opened the door, seated himself on the passenger seat, and secured his belt without any traces of hurry, and when Ruth gestured to him to scroll down the window, he did not hesitate to do so and listen to what more she had to say.

‘Well, you boys have fun. What time are you going to be back?’

‘We’re not sure,’ Brian answered, pressing the car key into the lock. ‘Visiting hour is from eleven to twelve this week, but we might go to the flat afterwards to get some work done. See if we can install those curtain rods.’

‘So you might not be home this afternoon?’ his mum asked.

‘Possibly not.’

Ruth thought for a second, and then said in full determination: ‘You’ll need more food, then.’

John huffed out a laugh at this typically maternal instinct of his mother-in-law, but Brian could not see any humour in it.

‘Mum…’ he groaned, but his mother was not taking no for an answer.

‘Yes, you do. You can’t survive on a few sandwiches all day.’

‘Mum, don’t- we’re going to be late!’ he shouted when she resolutely turned around and half-walked, half-ran towards the front door again. He heard the door being slammed shut behind her, as a wordless confirmation that she was not listening to his complaints, and he covered his face with his hands. ‘Unbelievable.’

‘She means well,’ John smiled.

‘I know. I know she does, but- I just want to go,’ Brian admitted. ‘I can’t wait to go and finally see Freddie and Roger again.’

‘I know. But we’re early anyway. And they won’t let the patients into the visiting room before it’s eleven o’clock anyway,’ John reminded him. Brian nodded slowly in agreement, or at least in understanding of what John told him.

‘It feels weird to know that they’re still patients at that place,’ Brian said.

‘Sometimes it feels unreal to even think that we were there with them for half a year. It already seems to far away,’ John said.

‘I know. But that’s a good sign. It means we’re moving on.’

John turned to look at Brian, whose face was finally graced by a smile by now. John wasn’t sure if Brian was leaning forwards to him or if that was just wishful thinking, but when he brought in his face he was given a kiss on the lips all the same.

With their hands resting on top of each other next to the gear shift, they waited for Ruth to come out again. It took a few minutes, and John could tell Brian was not happy about it, but he did not say anything about it - not even when his mum returned with two Tupperware boxes full of extra sandwiches, leftovers from the cake she’d made the day prior, and handfuls of red grapes. John opened the door to take it all in, as it was a bit awkward receiving the whole load through the car window - and when he had picked up the boxes and safely put them on the back seat behind him, a dark grey coat was stuffed into his hands.

‘This belongs to someone who assured me he’d taken his coat with him, but one glance at the coat rack told me otherwise,’ Ruth said with a stern glance aimed at her son.

‘I did take my coat! The blue one,’ Brian defended himself.

‘That’s a summer coat!’ Ruth brought in. ‘It’s November!’

‘It’s not cold yet! And if I wear a winter coat already, I’ll be cold by the time January rolls around,’ Brian argued. Unfortunately, this did not succeed in getting his mother off his back.

‘That means you don’t have a proper winter coat, then. We’ll buy you a new one next weekend.’ Then, while Brian sighed in the driver’s seat and turned the key to start the car, she turned to John. ‘What about you, dear? Do you have a proper winter coat or is it the same story as Brian’s?’

‘Er, I’m sure mine’s fine, mum. But I’ll try it out one of these days,’ John promised.

‘Very good. Well, have fun you two!’ said Ruth, who seemed to understand that Brian was going to drive the car out of the driveway regardless of whether or not she was still talking to him or his partner. She took a step back, which allowed John to close the door of the car, be it with a bit more force behind it than he had intended to do.

‘Careful, love. Don’t want to lose a door before we even hit the road,’ Brian commented lightly as he looked left, right, and then entered into the street. Despite his previous irritation, he could bring himself to wave at his mother good-naturedly, an example followed by John.

‘Sshh! Don’t talk about her like that,’ John tutted, rubbing his hand comfortingly over the dashboard of the Fiat. Ever since they had picked up the car from a local dealer who’d wanted to get rid of the 1961 occasion that he said only took up space in his yard, its wonkiness and creakiness had been a running joke between the couple, who simultaneously told each other to be kind to their purchase which was clearly ‘trying its best’ while also making fun of every little sound it made and deficiency it sported. The truth of the matter was that it was not a bad car for a couple of broke adolescents like themselves, but it certainly had its lacks and its things left to be desired.

‘Oh, so the car is a she, but when I call the Red Special a she it’s wrong?’ Brian asked his partner critically.

‘What can I say?’ John shrugged, not at all dodged by the question. ‘I don’t make the rules.’

‘You literally just did,’ Brian reminded him.

‘You don’t complain when I made the rules last night, you know,’ John said with ease, and Brian snorted. He could definitely appreciate John’s new-found sharkiness. Or perhaps it wasn’t new-found - it was just that now he used it for light-hearted comments that were guaranteed to make the people around him snicker, while previously at Queen Mary’s he had used it against people, such as Freddie in his overenthusiasm, or Roger after he’d tipped another pill or taken a shot of whatever was available to him at that point in time. Brian remembered how hesitant he had been of John during the first few weeks because of uneasiness about the guy’s use of his wits, how he’d been on his tiptoes to avoid John saying something questionable to him, even though this had never happened. John had never used his sharkiness against him, and nowadays no one had to fear for it anymore. Being in a much better place than he had been half a year ago, John never seemed to feel the need to use his wits against anyone anymore - only to make people laugh, which continued to make Brian feel warm and soft inside, even if his jokes teased him.

‘I wonder what their families think about us now that we’ve taken their spots during all the last visiting hours,’ Brian asked as he slowed down for a red light.

‘Freddie just wrote about that in his last letter,’ John answered. ‘Said that his parents aren’t too happy they don’t get to see him anymore, but that they’re taking it as a good sign that Freddie has us come and visit him instead of just his parents all the time.’

‘Which letter was that?’ Brian asked, stepping on the gas when the light turned green. ‘Don’t think I read it.’

‘Oh, then he probably mentioned it in one of Freddie’s and my daily ongoing Kama Sutra centred correspondence,’ John grinned.

Bian kept his eyes on the road, but that didn’t stop him from giving John a partly-punishing, partly-playful pat on the upper leg. ‘That would explain why you’re so keen on making all of these explicit comments all the time lately.’

‘Someone has to do the work now that Freddie isn’t here with us,’ John argued.

‘Yeah, well. Something’s telling me you’re not going to stop this new hobby of yours, not even when Freddie will come and join us.’

‘Probably not, no. We’ll probably just egg each other on,’ John grinned. Brian voiced his disagreement with this future prospect, before they moved on to discuss what it really would be like to have Freddie and Roger move in with them into the new apartment - or just to live on their own in general. Neither Brian nor John had ever done so before; Brian had lived close enough to university to continue living in his parents’ house, and John had barely been eighteen and only just done with high school when he was sent to Queen Mary’s. Roger and Freddie, on the other hand, did have experience living on their own - but the plenty of stories they’d told about their own moments of shame in the kitchen and the bathroom and general housekeeping did not exactly give Brian and John much hope.

As they hit the highway, they recalled Roger telling them how he’d once tried to get a clot of hair out of the shower drain using knife and form, and Freddie calling his sister in the middle of the night to ask her what the difference was between an oven and a microwave. The best - or worse, for that matter - out of all the things they’d heard overtime they unanimously decided was Freddie messing up his roommate’s kettle because he’d opened up and tried to boil an egg in the hot water; which on its own was bad enough, but him not having gotten the memo that an egg was liquid before boiling and thus unexpectedly cracking the egg into the kettle was worse for sure. To make the chaos complete, he’d then panicked and tries to fish out little pieces of half-boiled egg yolk with a pair of tweezers, and had burned his hand in the process of this. However, knowing that Roger once fell violently ill because he used to cook his chicken medium rare, the couple decided that it was probably best not to have neither Freddie nor Roger near the kitchen anywhere soon, and that they’d be the best candidates to cook the meals until they would manage to teach the others some basic culinary skills and food knowledge that apparently was not as common as they had thought.

Most of the remaining way to Queen Mary’s was then spent discussing which dishes the pair of them could cook and what to do in case they had an off-day on which they did not feel like touching the oven or stove in any sort of way. Brian drove comfortably despite having yet to get used to the car and not knowing the route by heart; he had, after all, driven them to Queen Mary’s twice before, and even if he took a wrong turn, there’d be plenty of time left as they’d made their departure unnecessarily early, as even he dared to admit by now.

There was, in the end, no reason at all to have to be stressed. They reached their destination at twenty past ten; early enough to park in the best available spots, and so early that the gates had not even opened yet.

‘Huh. Funny to be locked up from the other side for a change,’ John commented, which made Brian snort.

They looked on as Ian, one of the guards they came across often when he had back door duty, sauntered out of the building with a coworker they did not recognise - a new hire, they assumed. Brian was the one to first open the door, circle the car, and take out their instruments. He handed the bass over to John with a smile, and they moved on to the gates on which Ian was just laying the last hand to open it.

‘Morning, guys,’ Ian nodded at them, drawing the gate open with the help of his coworker. ‘You’re early today.’

‘Don’t want to miss a second of a chance to spend time at Queen Mary’s, of course,’ Brian smiled, and he took the hand Ian reached towards him for a handshake. John did the same afterwards.

‘I’d say so,’ Ian grinned. ‘You’re here to see Bulsara and that blond guy with him, right?’

‘Roger Taylor, yeah,’ John confirmed. ‘We have to arrange some last things before they leave and come to live with us.’

‘They’re leaving as well! You’re leaving me all alone here,’ Ian sighed exorbitantly loudly.

‘Of course not!’ Brian protested. ‘I see you’ve got a new coworker!’ He gave a nod towards the quiet but severe-looking middle-aged man standing to Ian’s right side.

‘Oh, I do. This is Frank,’ Ian introduced his coworker, who stepped forward to shake hands with the couple as well.

‘Is he a replacement or has Queen Mary’s finally decided to take on more security?’ John asked.

‘Believe it or not, but we’re finally getting more security,’ Ian said. When John lifted an eyebrow in surprise, he added: ‘I mean- there are two new guards as of now, but they’re looking for a few more. Problem is that not everyone is suitable to work in this environment. Finding guards that are both strict enough to keep order but gentle enough to work with the patients is a task on its own.’

Brian nodded in understanding - he was actually surprised by this information Ian shared with them. It might have seemed trivial and self-explanatory to someone else to hear that management was running tests to find the right guards for the demographics, Brian had seen enough /bullshit and acts of pure carelessness or even negligence at Queen Mary’s to know that it was not that self-evident to have the right people in the right positions. He was glad to hear that they were finally stepping up their game, though.

The next visitors arrived behind them, so John and Brian said their goodbyes to Ian and his new coworker, and walked towards the side entrance of the building, which they had learned was the visitor’s entrance of Queen Mary’s. It continued to feel weird to Brian to enter the visiting room from this side instead of through the patients’ entrance, but, knowing that John had only seen that side once and that having been with the half-disastrous, half-salvaging meeting with his parents, he decided not to bring that up. He did not want to bring up any bad memories, after all - today was supposed to be fun and good news only.

Having listed their names at the register and woven the safety pin with the ‘VISITOR’ button attached to it through the fabric of their shirts, the couple sat down on an uncomfortable wooden bench to await being searched. No one showed up, though, apart from more visitors; but just as Brian was about to make a comment about Queen Mary’s probably having shifted their funding away from visiting hour staff to be able to pay for new security, the figure of a man loomed up before them.

‘You should know by now that those instruments simply won’t do at Queen Mary’s,’ a voice said, before both the man and the couple he was facing smiled at each other.

‘Nolan!’ Brian beamed, nearly losing grip of his guitar as he jumped up from the bench to fling his arms around his former mentor. Upon first leaving Queen Mary’s he had never thought he’d grow to miss anyone apart from his friends, but only a few weeks at home had proven him utterly wrong. He missed Nolan’s cheerfulness and vigour, Sarah’s trust and her patience with him, and even Jasper’s eternal attempt at engaging everybody in group discussions. Still, the role Nolan had played in his survival at Queen Mary’s, and in his healing process as far as Queen Mary’s had been responsible for that, was one that Brian was not going to forget anywhere soon. Nolan had been the one to walk him through his first weeks at Queen Mary’s, the one he had always been able to reach out to during his time, and the one who had helped him get out when he had needed to. No one had ever cared so deeply as Nolan had, and Brian would always be thankful to him for the effort he’d put into every single day he had been out and about at the institution, because it really had made a change for the better.

‘Hi buddy! I’ve missed you!’ Nolan said, again with such sincerity that only Nolan could add to his words. ‘How are things going? Did you get the apartment?’

‘Not the one we originally were hoping for, but two weeks ago we got another offer. Even better, perhaps,’ Brian detached himself from Nolan so that John could share a hug with his mentor also. Perhaps Nolan had not played as large a role in his life at Queen Mary’s as he had for Brian, but John had also grown to miss the stability that Nolan had provided - a rock for all who needed him, whenever and wherever.

‘Really?’ Nolan asked, his voice muffled as his face was half-buried in John’s shoulder.

‘Really. Three bedroom apartment with central heating and a recently updated kitchen in Kensington.’

‘Three-bedroom apartment! In Kensington, out of all places! Count yourself lucky!’ Nolan beamed. He let go of John at last, and looked them both in the eyes as he said: ‘You deserve it, guys. If anyone I’ve ever met in here deserves such an opportunity, it’s you.’ Brian smiled and John just blushed, but they both knew Nolan meant it, and it felt good, really good to have someone wish them well with all of his heart.

Just as Brian was thinking of saying something to wish Nolan well, such as telling him he hoped he’d been a little less busy than he’d been in their days or that he’d been given a few kind and unproblematic pupils in their place, a nasal voice asking loudly if anyone was going to check them or if they could just move on through to the visiting area straight away made them turn around. Nolan shot them an apologetic glance - one they still remembered from the many times when he’d been called away by various duties when they still lived at Queen Mary’s. They took their leave of Nolan, but were reunited with them again as they passed him and Derek, who had come to help him out, to search all visitors. They exchanged a few more words as they were patted down, but, upon finding nothing in their pockets and probably trusting them to still abide by the rules as they (largely) did while living at the place, they were given permission to enter the visiting room.

With one hand on John’s back and the other around the neck of his beloved guitar, Brian guided the pair of them to a table in the front left corner of the room. From this spot, Freddie and Roger would be able to spot them, but they would not be in the way of too many people during their time together. That’s what they hoped, at any rate, but Brian knew that no one among the four of them particularly cared about their noise levels when they got to see each other once per month, and especially not now that they had such good news to celebrate.

Visitors spilled into the room, security made their rounds, and cups of coffee and tea were distributed at random among the occupied tables by two lunch ladies with no regard for anyone’s preferences for which beverage they wished or how they wished to take it. Knowing that John didn’t like his coffee without sugar - his sweet spot, as Brian liked to call it when they were just among themselves - he offered to take the bitter drink, and let John have the cup of tea. They took small sips of the hot liquids and made some comments on the room, the visitors, and Queen Mary’s in general while eagerly waiting for Freddie and Roger to join them.

Their patience was eventually rewarded - just as Brian downed the last of what John had dubbed Queen Mary’s bitter bean juice, the heavy iron door swung open, and the patients were released into the room. Half of them anxious and half of them apathetic, it didn’t take long for Brian to spot the excited expression and manner of their friends, who had stumbled through the door together and anxiously searched for them.

‘Freddie, Roger! Here!’ Brian found himself standing up from the table and wave a hand above his head to lead his friends in the right direction. John stood up and even gave a whistle to a confused looking Freddie - something Brian never could have imagined him doing half a year ago, but which he now did with a smile on his face. Even calling their names out loud was something he himself would not have dared to do upon first arriving in Queen Mary’s, afraid of other people’s reactions. Now he couldn't care less about the glances and the stares; not when Roger spotted them and excitedly pulled Freddie with him towards the table.

Brian felt his smile growing wider as the couple approached their table in a half-walking, half-running manner. They looked stronger, better, happier every time they visited Queen Mary’s to see them, and today was no exception. Roger’s face had a healthy glow to it, which was a huge difference to the pale greyish tint of his skin he had sported while on and off his heroin addiction. His eyes were less sunken and his cheeks had a certain rosy softness to them that made him look sweet and even more boyish than he had done before.

The changes in Freddie were even more visible. His skin had also recovered from its snow-white phase, and the beginnings of a bronze tone were showing, which showed the Parsi background that Brian knew Freddie had but which had never been too visible. Brian could also tell, as he stepped closer, that he had again managed to gain some weight over the past month. It might have been minimal, not more than a few pounds, but for someone of his frame and statue this made a real difference. His clothes no longer swung around his body the way they used to, and his cheekbones, although still sharp, did not stick out the way they used to, which made his face look more elegant and proportioned. His walk had become more steadfast, and even his hair looked shinier than it used to - something he knew Freddie would say was the result of some new hair product, but which Brian could tell had more to do with him finally starting to eat things besides slices of tomato and shim yoghurt than with any sort of hair conditioner.

‘Darliiiiiings!’ Freddie cooed with the second vowel drawn-out dramatically as he let Brian envelop his torso with his long arms, laughing loudly and most of all genuinely when Brian clutched him tightly against his chest and pressed kisses against his hair. It had always been Freddie who had initiated hugs and kisses of any sort, but he sure seemed delighted to have his friend take the lead this time around.

‘I’m so glad you’re here!’ said Roger, who next to Freddie had been subdued to the same treatment by John, be it with a hand grating through his long blond locks instead of having a pair of lips pressed against it. ‘You must be here with the new car! You need to tell me all about it!’

‘Well, eh, what do you want to know?’ John asked.

‘Everything!’ Roger beamed, dislodging himself from John’s chest. ‘What’s the manufacturer, and the building year, and how many HP? What’s the engine capacity? And the torque!’

‘Well, it’s a Fiat 124 from France, built in December 1961. It has 61 HP,  which is decent, but the torque isn’t spectacular,’ John admitted. Brian felt Freddie take a step back from him but they held each other at an arm’s length anyway, not ready to let this instant conversation break them up yet. ‘I mean, the number they gave us was high, but that’s the maximum torque of the IC engine.’

‘I know,’ Roger nodded. ‘They try to impose you with a torque of 200 when RPM is what’s really important when looking at acceleration speed. Or plainly the zero-to-sixty-span, although that’s dependable on the circumstances of the environment of the car…’

‘Let’s leave all of that to the nerds, shall we?’ Freddie suggested halfway through the sentence when he noticed that neither Brian nor he either understood or cared about the discussion of their latest vehicular purchase. ‘God, what do I care about cars when you’re here to see us!’ he said when Brian nodded to his proposal, and he threw himself back against Brian’s chest. Brian just smiled and hooked an arm around Freddie’s side so he could pat his back. For the first time probably since he had met Freddie, he was finally comfortable hugging him without fearing he would break his roommate in two - something Brian definitely found worthy of praise and celebration.

‘It’s so good to have you here and literally see that you’re making progress,’ Brian smiled into the shoulder of Freddie, who unfortunately did not think of this as a good sign at all. He unwrapped his arms from Brian’s back and stepped away from him with a look of serious uneasiness and shock on his face.

‘Oh fuck, no, does it really show? Can you tell that I- gained weight?’ The last words came out in a squeak that betrayed just how painful the idea of putting weight back on still was for Freddie, who looked as if he was going to cry if he was not going to receive comfort in the form of assurance that he hadn’t gained a gramme and that he looked emaciated as always. The problem was that Brian could not do it, refused to do it - now that Freddie was finally on the road towards recovery, he was not going to praise anything weight loss-related.

Choosing his words carefully, Brian said: ‘It just shows a little in your face, and I can feel it in your ribs when I hold you. It’s a very positive change, Freddie, believe me.’

Freddie, however, looked at Brian as if he had just grabbed him by the throat and left him breathless. ‘That’s not positive, that’s- that’s disgusting,’ he whimpered.

‘It’s not disgusting,’ Brian protested. ‘It’s good and it’s healthy and it’s exactly what should happen. It’s exactly why you look better and feel so much better lately - it’s why you’ll be allowed to leave soon. Don’t you want that?’ Brian asked. ‘You don’t want to stay at Queen Mary’s or similar places forever and fight with food your whole life, right?’

Freddie blinked at him, once, twice, a third time, then looked down. ‘I don’t want that,’ he muttered. ‘But I don’t want to look like… like this either.’ Despite Freddie still protesting his progress, Brian noticed that he recognised he did have an unhealthy relationship with food, which a few months ago he would have refused to do. Things were going in the right direction at last.

‘Like what?’ Brian asked. ‘Strong and healthy and beautiful? With some colour on your face and shiny hair and a perfect body to carry around a perfect person?’

Freddie huffed. ‘The hair’s just my new after shower hair mask.’

‘I literally predicted you would say that,’ Brian rolled his eyes, but then sternly added: ‘Don’t undermine your own progress, Freddie.’

Freddie opened his mouth as if he had something grand to say to defend himself, but nothing came out apart from a choked ‘I’m not’, which Brian could see right through. He knew Freddie did not at all see his recent progress as such, and knew his friend needed support and consolation.

‘Believe me, Freddie. You might not see it now, but in a few years you’ll look back at yourself and be proud,’ Brian promised him with a voice firm enough to make him look away at first, then shyly face him.

‘Do you really think so?’ Freddie asked. Brian smiled, again seeing this (be it unsure sounding) question as a win, for Freddie did not actively oppose to what he claimed.

‘I’m sure of it,’ Brian said just as firmly. Then, deciding to try his luck, he asked Freddie openly for the first time ever: ‘How far are you now?’

Freddie, knowing exactly what he meant, faced him with a look of mild panic and hesitation. ‘I… I’m too embarrassed to tell you,’ he said at first, but after a handful of seconds, he beckoned Brian closer, and stood on his tiptoes to whisper to him: ‘I’m at 98 now.’

‘Really?’ Brian said in an upbeat tone, ignoring the fact that this still was a ridiculously low number and instead focussing on it being at least more than ten pounds than he had weighed during much of his own stay at Queen Mary’s. You have no idea how much progress that is. When I got here you were what, 86 pounds?’

‘And a half, yes,’ Freddie said, then sighed. ‘I can’t help wanting to go back there somewhere deep inside. I know I shouldn’t want that, and Roger tells me I’m crazy, but...’

‘It’ll take a while to get rid of those thoughts,’ Brian finished his sentence when Freddie ran out of words. ‘You’ve been used to thinking like that for so long. But it’s good that Roger’s your voice of reason in those moments,’ Brian said, which was a sentence he had not expected to ever leave his mouth. It had always been Freddie who had tried to talk sense back into Roger whenever he had graved his beloved heroin or its substitutes, so it had been unexpected to learn that it was now Roger who told Freddie right instead. Brian was glad to hear that he did, though - but he would be even happier when the couple would move in with John and him so they could keep an eye on Freddie and his eating habits between the three of them. Together they would pull Freddie through.

‘Yes, Roger as my voice of reason,’ Freddie laughed with a sideward glance at his boyfriend, who was luckily still engaged in talk of carburettors and gear shifts with John. ‘No, but he’s really sweet and helpful. He’ll go with me to my dietary sessions whenever he doesn’t have to attend sessions on his own. He’ll hold me when I cry whenever I have to step on a scale and everyone’s celebrating me having put on weight. He’s really pulling me through this, you know.’

It melted Brian’s heart to hear that the couple was able to support each other so well. ‘That’s very good to hear. Roger will be so relieved when you’ll finally hit the 100 pounds mark.’

‘I know,’ Freddie sighed. ‘I suppose I do want to get there, even if it’s mainly for him. And well, you know- he did promise a reward if I did.’

‘A reward?’ Brian lifted an eyebrow. ‘And what would that be?’

Freddie cast his eyes up dramatically, and twirled a strand of hair around a bony finger. ‘Oh, I could hardly repeat that to you. It would not be good for your sensitive ears.’ Brian refrained from giving Freddie a teasing push out of fear that his friend might topple over, and instead just stuck out his tongue at him.

‘Who’s got sensitive ears?’ sounded the voice of Roger, who joined into the conversation at the exact right moment for Freddie and Brian to not have to repeat the latter part of their discussion.

‘Brian and I, which is why we couldn’t listen to you going on about cabaret and such.’

‘I’ve told you a thousand times before it’s a carburettor.’

‘Oh, my ears! My sensitive ears!’ Freddie said, covering the sides of his face with his hands like a Victorian housewife who had suddenly be seized by a fit of dizziness.’

‘Okay, we get it,’ John snorted. ‘Sit your majestic behind down, Queen Victoria.’

Freddie did as he was told, but, unlike the rest of them, he was incapable of sitting down without another clever comment in his newly assumed role of British royalty. ‘The nerve of some men to address their Queen in such a manner.’

‘It’s one Queen against another Queen, mind you,’ John said with an air of sassiness he had grown to assume when Freddie and he were sharing a moment like this one. ‘We’re all Queens. Why else did we name our band that?’

‘To honour this glorified poorhouse, of course,’ Roger answered the question on Freddie’s behalf. ‘I can’t wait to get out of here,’ he sighed.

‘Are things still going downhill here?’ Brian asked, finding a window of opportunity to turn the conversation into a relevant direction before Queen Anne, Queen Elizabeth, Queen Mary, and whoever more may have been a female ruler of the Kingdom would be evoked.

Roger and Freddie shared a look as if to gauge each other’s stance on the matter, before Roger turned back to Brian and shook his head. ‘Not even. I think I’ve actually seen some improvements around the place. There’s more security guards, for instance.’

‘We know. We met a new coworker of Ian outside at the gate,’ John told them. ‘It’s good that they’re finally hiring more people.’

‘Yes, it’s just a shame that they’re doing it now that the worst of threats have passed,’ Roger said. ‘I mean- that was a bit of an unfortunate way of wording it, but- well, Drew did pass indeed, and Clyde’s left just two weeks ago.’

Brian, although he felt a tinge of unease when he heard the death of their once-enemy turned last-minute well-wisher being mentioned, decided to skip that debate and asked after the departure of the other gang leader instead: ‘Clyde’s left?’

‘Oh yes! That was a funny story,’ Roger said, and Brian could see Freddie grin in agreement from the side of his eye. ‘Turned out there was a warrant against Clyde for suspected involvement in drug dealing, whitewashing, extortion, and similar businesses. Clyde’s lawyer apparently made an arrangement with his psychiatrist to have him shipped off to an institution to avoid being prosecuted.’

‘The GA was not amused when he found out, mind you,’ Freddie took over the role of narrating the story that had Brian and John grinning with a sense of victory over the evil fellow patient already. ‘He was escorted out of the building by the police and taken for interrogation, and admitted to his crimes. It’s said that he’ll be kept on bail until the day of the court so he won’t go anywhere again.’

‘Well, that should serve him right,’ Brian said. ‘And things have been quieter since?’

‘I’d say so, yes. Their gangs are still sort of active, but without a real leader they don’t do much. Maybe push each other in the hallway or so, or throw food around in the canteen. But it’s not as bad as it used to be.’

‘They also restructured time in the public rooms,’ Roger said. ‘You have to sign up beforehand now, and security will check if there’s no people who they know to cause trouble when they get to see each other. So basically everyone just has access, apart from the people they know will cause problems, who’ll just not be let in. And with more security around, they can actually implement this rule.’

‘That sounds good-’ Brian agreed, but before he could properly finish his sentence, Freddie interrupted him as he suddenly thought of something he’d obviously meaning to tell him.

‘Oh! And Ariel is back, by the way!’

Brian looked at Freddie for a second, before half-asking, half-exclaiming: ‘Really?’

‘Really. Now that the largest fools are gone and more security is around, she told management she’d have another try. She still only works half of the hours she used to, but things seem to be going well. Or, you know- as well as things can go with the depression talk group patients,’ he said somewhat awkwardly. Brian didn’t mind at all - he was positively overwhelmed with this news. It had been so long since he’d last heard anyone even mention the name of one of their therapy leaders who had left under a cloak of mysterious unmentionable reasons expected to be sexual violence she had experienced at the clinic, that he had not even considered the option of her coming back again. To hear that she had overcome her fears and had made an attempt at returning to the place where Brian knew her heart lay, made him beam with hope. Queen Mary’s was not as much as a lost cause as it once had seemed to him.

‘That’s really good news. Seriously, I’m very glad to hear that,’ Brian said.

‘Seems like things are finally falling into their right places after all,’ John smiled. ‘Just a bit of a shame that it’s happening now that we’ll all soon be gone.’

‘Which we really have to discuss, by the way,’ Roger said excitedly - he seemed so much more lively and upbeat now that he’d been clean for almost three months straight. ‘You need to tell us about the apartment!’

‘Oh, yes, the apartment. Well, as I wrote to you the other day, it’s going to be the one in Kensington, not in Shepherd’s Bush. It has three bedrooms instead of two, and central heating throughout the house,’ John informed Roger, whose short, high-blown whistle seemed to indicate that he was excited.

‘What floor is it on?’ Freddie asked.

‘Second floor, so it’s four flights of stairs. Don’t you dare make a comment about how that’ll be good for your workout,’ John warned Freddie, who innocently held up his hands.

‘I wouldn’t dare to, dear,’ Freddie said. ‘But tell us more! What’s it look like? You’ve been there, right?’

‘Twice,’ Brian confirmed. ‘It has one large living room, dining area, and kitchen, which was recently renewed. And there’s double glass everywhere, also recently done.’

‘Do you have any pictures?’

‘I only have the advertisement page from the real estate agent, but it has a few pictures.’ Brian dug into the chest pocket of his shirt, and fished out a black and white housing advertisement on newspaper quality material, all folded up and crinkled after having looked at it with John a million times before while they imagined what would be in so near a future. Their soon-to-be-roommates-again did not seem to mind, though; the piece was all but ripped out of his hands and unfolded by the eager fingers of Freddie, who spread out the paper and laid it out on the tabletop before him.

‘Look at that! Such a fancy frontage, my dears! And those large windows!’ Freddie said loudly enough to make people around them look up. Brian shortly considered telling Freddie to keep his voice down, but upon seeing the joy on his friend’s face as Roger and he pointed fingers at the images and the accompanying descriptions, he decided to let them be.

‘Seventy-five square metres!’ Roger pointed out equally enthusiastically. ‘The master bedroom has its own washstand and running water…’

‘Mind you, that’s the one Brian and I already claimed,’ John informed them.

‘Doesn’t matter. I’ll just claim the spare bedroom for my drums.’

‘What about my extended wardrobe closet, then?’ Freddie asked. ‘Where do I put all my clothes? And where does Brian put his dildo collection?’ Brian snorted, obviously not having expected the conversation to head into this direction, let alone to be dragged into it as it did.

‘I have a suggestion as to where he leaves them,’ Roger said with wiggling eyebrows, and Brian rolled his eyes.

‘In the room you wanted to put your drums. And in your bed, if you don’t hold your tongue.’

‘Oh! Brian bites back,’ Freddie grinned, crooking his fingers to give the impression of a pair of claws. ‘No, we’ll see what we’ll do with the spare room when we get to it. As for now I’m just so excited to have a house and to live with you again, god!’

Brian smiled, glad they moved on to a more acceptable topic. ‘It’s going to be great. It’s so nice to know we’ve got a decent place from which we can build up our lives again.’

‘But we’ve really got it, then? It’s been signed for and all?’ Roger asked. Brian nodded.

‘We went to sign the contracts yesterday. Or well, my dad signed - he’s the one who actually has the credit it takes to be eligible for renting. You know, given that none of us has like… worked in the past year at least, and none of us has a degree or is currently working on getting a degree…’ he laughed a bit awkwardly. ‘Anyway, with our student loans, or maybe a weekend job on top of that, it shouldn’t be a problem to pay the rent back to my dad.’

Roger nodded. ‘We’ll manage. Freddie and I have actually talked for a bit these last few days, and we’ve decided we’ll take up a job first. I mean, the school year’s just started, so we can either hurry to recover a month of uni without any preparation, or do some work first.’

‘Sounds good,’ Brian said. ‘We’ll live in the inner city - I’m sure there’ll be many places around who hire.’

‘Oh no, we don’t want to work for an employer,’ Freddie brushed off the idea with a literal wave of the hand. ‘We want to be our own bosses.’ Brian shared a look with John, but neither of them could either say or ask something before Freddie had already told them of their plans. ‘We want to start a vintage clothing stall!’

‘A vintage… clothing stall?’ John repeated.

‘Yes!’ Freddie confirmed with pride, either not seeing or ignoring his friend’s reservation. ‘We can buy clothes cheaply from people who want to get rid of them and get some cash for it without doing too much work, and then sell it in our own store, or market stall, or whatever place we can get. We can work with fashion, with is something we both enjoy, and give people advice, and get all dressed up ourselves - we’ll have to know the clothes we sell, after all!’

Brian blinked a few times, and then, when John did not seem to have a reply to this, he offered: ‘‘That sounds great!’

‘I know!’ Freddie beamed. ‘It’ll be so much fun to find those real gems between clothes people dispose of, and see what we can still do with it.’

Roger nodded in agreement with what his partner said. ‘And clothes that are not good enough for selling anymore, we can always take together and use the fabric for new pieces.’

‘You can sow fabulous things out of old scraps of fabric, you know!’ Freddie said.

‘A good idea,’ Brian agreed wholeheartedly. ‘But do either of you have, eh... any tailoring skills?’ Brian asked, trying his hardest not to sound sceptic. It was not that he had no faith at all in this plan of his friends, and it was frankly beautiful to see how excited the idea of working together and in a field they were both interested in excited them. Selling clothes sure could be done. How plausible it was, however, that they’d make great tailors if they had no prior knowledge of the trade, and whether they’d be able to support themselves from the selling of second-hand clothes, was something he was not too certain of.

‘My last name isn’t Taylor for no reason,’ Roger winked with a smile at his friends sitting across the table, leaving them unsure of the actual answer to Brian’s question. Then again, Brian decided for himself that this was not too important at the time being; what really mattered was that Freddie and Roger, who had gone through some serious issues, both mentally, emotionally, and physically, were now in good enough of a state to make exciting plans for the future, which they strove to carry out once they’d left Queen Mary’s. And maybe those plans did not cover all of their bills, but who worried about that at this point?

‘Oh, Roger!’ Freddie suddenly exclaimed as he all but gripped his partner by the upper arm, as if Roger was possibly going anywhere if he did not hold on to him physically. ‘Something that suddenly dawns on me. Isn’t there some place called Kensington Market or so, right in the middle of Kensington, where you can hire indoor stalls?’

‘Oh shit, I know that place!’ Roger answered. ‘I’ve been there once with Clare to have a look. We should check if they have anything available, because that would be exactly the right crowd for our store!’

‘And it’d be so close to our house, we can literally just walk there! What was the address again?’ Freddie said, and the pair turned to the paper in front of them. Brian and John shared a look of mutual appreciation for Freddie and Roger’s plans to keep themselves occupied and keep their spirits up once they’d be released from Queen Mary’s, even if it might be a bit too ambitious and enthusiastic. Fingertips pointed out places on the small location map provided on the advertisement page, street names Brian had never heard of were flung around with enthusiasm, only to be silenced when a new voice joined the discussion of their store’s possible location.

‘Working out some escape plan, huh?’ A large hand was placed on a shoulder of either man, who turned around to see the same staff member Brian and John had earlier welcomed with happiness and gratitude.

‘Nolan!’ Freddie exclaimed. ‘Come here, darling, you need to see our new house! We’re gonna move to a great place in Kensington!’

‘I’ve been told so by your friends!’ Nolan said, giving a nod towards Brian and John. ‘Show me the evidence.’

Roger didn’t have to be told twice, picked up the paper and quite literally shoved it in Nolan’s face, while Freddie read out loud various of the descriptions Brian could tell from the concentrated look on his ex-mentor’s face Nolan was trying to read for himself simultaneously, as Freddie’s report was messy and random at best. Nevertheless, Nolan patiently listened to Freddie’s excited chatter and happily looked at the random images Roger pointed out, and afterwards gave them the same blessing he had given to Brian and John beforehand. They then chatted for a little longer between the five of them, until, just as Nolan made an attempt to say his goodbyes - he had to keep an eye on everyone in the room, after all - Freddie tugged at the mentor’s sleeve and flash him his dearest puppy eyes, before asking him for a favour Brian had not yet considered a possibility.

‘Ahw Nole, can we go outside?’

‘Outside?’ Nolan repeated, obviously no having seen this request coming. ‘You mean now?’

‘Yes! Surely you remember the four of us used to go outside to talk and play music all the time when we all lived at Queen Mary’s?’ Freddie said in an attempt to refresh Nolan’s mind.

It seemed to work. ‘I do remember, yes. Staff used to be glad when you did, so we would not have your noise sounding through the paper walls of this place,’ Nolan laughed.

‘Our noise?’ Freddie repeatedly indignantly, but Roger saw his window of opportunity to convince Nolan to let them go out in these words.

‘Exactly! If you let us go out, you won’t have us play in the middle of your visiting room. If you don’t, you’ll force us to practice right here and interrupt everyone’s conversations,’ Roger argued - or threatened, more like.

‘Practice right here in the middle of the visiting room?’ Nolan repeated with a grin. He could obviously see the humour in the men’s creativity to convince him to let them go out - which was a relief to Brian, who had feared that Freddie would have been told off for asking for something so bold and so plainly against the rules. Then again, Nolan had never been one to follow the rulebook all too literally - something that now seemed to catch up with him.

‘You allowed us to come in with our guitars, now you’ll have to live with the consequences.’ The threat now came from John, which was an unexpected corner to be attacked from; in any case, unexpected for a staff member like Nolan, who was not familiar with John’s quiet but sly antics.

‘John! I don’t remember you to be this bold,’ Nolan reproached him. John just smiled and shrugged.

‘That’s because you’re staff,’ Freddie said. ‘If you were with us, you would have seen him break through security and sneak into the kitchen to get himself food if he didn’t feel like having breakfast among us peasants.’

Nolan shook his head in quasi-disapproval. ‘Breaking through security, raiding the kitchen, threatening to stir up visiting hour… I don’t believe I can safely deny you guys anything anymore at this point.’

‘So you’ll let us go out?’ asked Freddie, already half lifting himself out of his chair.

Nolan looked around the relatively peaceful room, checked to see if no one was paying specific attention to them, and eventually said: ‘Get up calmly and follow me.’ This permission was received with enthusiasm by the four men sitting around the table, who - despite trying their best not to attract too much attention - made a lot more noise than they intended to do. Chairs were shoved back, the advertisement crinkled up and shoved into a pocket, John and Brian picked up their guitars and swung the strap around their chests, which required them to raise an arm and duck their heads in the process. If all of this was not enough to draw the attention, then it was Roger, who, in his hurry to follow Nolan, bumped a bony knee into the leg of the table, and uttered a necessary curse with it.

‘Get up calmly, I said!’ Nolan repeated his earlier words when the four men followed in his footsteps. He showed off his staff card and exchanged a few words with the warden on duty, who then opened the heavy iron door leading into the building.

‘If you wanted to teach us manners you should have done so earlier than three weeks before we’re leaving, Nole,’ Roger grinned. Nolan jokes about treating new patients like army recruits following his experience with the inhabitants of room 41B, but Brian did not quite catch all of that. He was more absorbed by getting to catch another glimpse of the inside of Queen Mary’s, which, at half-past eleven, was alive and tumultuous as he remembered it to be. People walked through the hallway, emerged from sideways and doors, and freely walked in and out of the canteen. Brian dimly remembered Roger writing him about the ban on using the canteen between mealtimes having been lifted now that the biggest problems with patient behaviour had passed, but seeing it himself made it a little more real. To actually see people sitting in the canteen, talking and laughing and playing undoubtedly incomplete card games, reminded him of his own stay here - the good times and the bad times, the ups and downs, the highs and lows. There had been plenty of either of those.

‘Feels weird to walk through this hallway now,’ John remarked beside him, and Brian, caught up in the experience of it all, simply nodded in response.  

They trod through a few hallways, and eventually arrived at the hallway leading to the back entrance of the building. It was a hallway with a lot of memories attached to it, at least to Brian - it gave access to the bathroom where Jimmy had been found hanging from the ceiling, the one in which John had locked himself upon being told he had to leave Queen Mary’s. Turning the other way, Brian saw the staff rooms he had frantically searched in his quest for Nolan the evening he’d realised he needed a reassessment, and the room where mister Fisher had extensively examined him and his ability to return to society for weeks straight upon applying for said reassessment. Luckily, there one door that did have good memories attached to it for Brian, and that was the door that led outside, to the only place they had guaranteed peace and quiet and happiness while residing at the clinic. The place where John and he had shared and received, given and taken, spoken and listened, cried and laughed, lived and survived. Brian’s hand touched John’s, and John, understanding the gesture, gave his hand a comforting squeeze as they passed the threshold that led to the warden’s post at the end of the hallway, and, behind that, to freedom.

A single man was leaning against the wall, and looked up at the sight of the party of five that entered the space. Nolan showed off his card again, pointed to Brian’s and John’s visitor badges, and explained the whole matter. Freddie’s and Roger’s names were noted down in the log, and the door was unlocked and opened for them.

‘Well, go have fun, but don’t make me regret allowing you outside,’ Nolan said as words of wisdom and temporary goodbye.

‘We’ll play so loud that the London police will come and inspect the noise pollution,’ Roger promised. Freddie and he were the first to try and walk through the door, but they were halted by Nolan before they did so.

‘Wait! Where’s your coats, guys?’ Nolan asked, pointing to the long row of black jackets worn by people who chose to go outside, but which had remained untouched by the four.

‘We don’t need coats, it’s not that cold,’ Roger said.

‘It’s November,’ Nolan countered. ‘And neither of you weigh more than eight stone. Take a coat,’ he said, handing one to a begrudging Freddie and Roger, while John and Brian also took one in an attempt to lead by example. ‘Promise me to keep an eye on these two when I’m not around, will you?’ Nolan asked them, seemingly not noting that neither John nor Brian had reached out to pick up a coat before his interference.

In what seemed like an attempt to make this clear to Nolan, and with this give a hint that they could not be trusted to look after Freddie and Roger either, John disclosed: ‘Just this morning Brian’s mother handed me his coat because he wouldn’t take it himself.’

Nolan looked at him as to make out if he was pulling a joke on him, but when Brian somewhat shamefully admitted John spoke the truth, the mentor pulled open the door and pointed at the newly created exit. ‘Go now, before I change my mind and lock you all up in your room again to keep you safe.’

Freddie and Roger did not need to be told twice and dashed outside; John smiled apologetically at Nolan, and Brian gave his ex-mentor a comforting pat on the shoulder, before they too traded Queen Mary’s building for its gardens.

 # # #

 ‘It’s not even that cold outside,’ Freddie remarked as they sauntered into the garden. As soon as Nolan had left the scene, he had made a point out of taking off his coat and tying it around his waist in the least fashionable sense possible. Brian could not blame him, though; the coats were made of thick, wintery material, while the outside temperature of this particular November morning easily reached fifteen degrees. Apart from him, everyone had taken off their coach - including John, who seemed to have forgotten the idea of leading by example, and who carried his coat over his shoulder while they made their way over to the swing set they had spent so much time on while residing at Queen Mary’s.

‘That’s because you’ve finally got some meat on your bones, mate,’ Roger told Freddie - a comment delivered in good nature, and - much to Brian’s surprise - Freddie did not take it too badly at all.

‘Lay off, dear.’ Freddie rolled his eyes. ‘You gained what, fifteen pounds or so since you quit heroin?.’

‘Mind you, that’s a sign of recovery,’ Roger corrected him. ‘It’s one of the reasons they’re finally letting me go. And besides, you didn’t particularly seem to mind in bed these last few weeks,’ he grinned.

‘Of course not,’ Freddie readily admitted. ‘It looks good on you.’

‘It would look just as good on you,’ Roger said.

‘Yeah, well,’ Freddie said after a few seconds of silence. Planting himself down on the swing, he added: ‘The opinions about that differ.’

‘It’s literally you against the rest of the world, Fred,’ Roger reminded him.

Freddie gave a toothy smile. ‘It’s always been me against the world. I fail to see the problem with that.’

Roger, who by now had also taken a seat on the only other vacant swing, after having established with some hand gestures that neither Brian nor John insisted on sitting down, rolled his eyes and moved to a different topic. ‘It’s only three weeks left until they’ll let us leave. I can’t believe we’ll be free so soon.’

‘It’s been long enough, though,’ John said, crouching down on the moist sand beneath, and Brian followed his example - be it after having taken off his coat and using it as a protective layer against the ground. ‘How long have you been here for?’

‘Since August last year, so that would be… a year and three months,’ Roger calculated. ‘Freddie’s been here one month longer,’ he said, pointing at his partner.

‘That’s a long time,’ Brian said.

‘Especially when it’s been no use,’ Roger muttered.

‘That’s not true,’ John corrected him. ‘You came in as a serious heroin addict and now you’ve been clean for almost three months.’

‘Yeah, but that’s more to do with you than with Queen Mary’s,’ Roger said. ‘I only really saw the need to get clean when John was going to be released and when you went for a reassessment. When I saw that you were trying to get back your lives again, I wanted that, too. And especially when we started talking about renting a house together and seeing if we can get somewhere with our music as a band, I really started laying off drugs.’

‘Same here, I guess,’ Freddie added. ‘Well, not drugs - but I’ve been wanting to, eh… you know, get better from this… fear of eating and being fat and such since I’ve seen you move on and do so well. I want  to have that sort of life, too.’ He paused for a second, then said: ‘I mean, I’m not doing as good as people would like for me to do, but at least I’ve acknowledged that I do have a problem with eating, and I… do want to get over that.’

Brian nodded at his friend, who shyly glanced at him as to find approval for his words and way of thinking. ‘I’m really very happy you, and also you, Roger, are seeing that there’s life outside this place, and that you want to work on yourself to get there again.’

‘I think perspective is one of the problems with Queen Mary’s,’ John said. ‘While in here there’s no clear view of life outside, or what you’re doing it for. There’s no future or even a reward you’re working forwards, so why fight for it? I mean, God knows I didn’t do that until I was told to leave and Brian showed me all that could be if we put in effort.’

‘And when we saw you were doing well, Rog and I wanted to work on ourselves and be dismissed also,’ Freddie added.

‘Something good came out of you being sent away after all, Deaky,’ Brian said. ‘I see it as the turning point for all of us.’

John smiled. ‘It was a good thing to send me away, looking back at it. I just didn’t see any chances of having a life after Queen Mary’s. But looking back, I didn’t have too much of a life inside Queen Mary’s either, so what did I have to lose? Especially with Brian with me. I wish I would not have been so afraid at the time, because I worried about nothing.’

‘But you didn’t know that then,’ Brian reminded him. ‘Even I didn’t know we’d get to find a place of our own and a plan of going back to school in the second semester and working on ourselves in the meantime so soon. But I know it would be alright because I had you.’ John blushed slightly, but took Brian’s hand as a sign of appreciation.

‘I’m really glad actually to know that the pair of you are already out there, with an apartment and a plan of what to do and just some settlement. It really makes things easier to know that we’ll have a place to go to when they kick us out here, because the ‘‘guidance’’ they give us now can hardly be qualified as such’ Freddie said.

‘They’ve started to give you guidance, then?’ Brian asked.

‘Sort of. It’s called ‘‘preparation for resocialisation’’, and it’s nothing more than a meeting once a week starting four weeks before you’ll leave where they tell us some generic stuff about where to find support and how to apply for a follow-up therapist or psychiatrist or whatever you need. And they have some addresses for social housing if you have no place to turn to.’

Brian felt himself turn a little queasy at the idea of the last-mentioned - the government housing buildings for troublesome young adults that often suffered from addiction or showed violent behaviour. People who had been victims of abuse or sex trafficking, and who would be lost to the streets if it had not been for these communal buildings. It had been the place John would have been carded off to if it had not been for Brian’s family taking him in. While Brian was grateful there were places to help young homeless people, he knew that those at the same time would equal the destruction of someone vulnerable like Freddie or prone to falling back into bad habits like Roger, so he was infinitely grateful they were able to take in their friends after their journey at Queen Mary’s was to end.

The four of them talked for a bit about the less than ideal guidance Queen Mary’s offered to those about to be set free again, and about the general working and vibe of the place as of late. Group therapy sessions were still messy as usual, and some private therapy sessions had been replaced by mentor sessions due to a new influx of patients without a new influx of therapists. Roger was still not happy with his drugs counsellor who told him to ‘pray the drug cravings away’, but the guy seemed pleased enough with him, seeing as he had been clean for over ten weeks now. Freddie was finally cooperating with his dietician, and was allowed to sit with the eating disorder support group during mealtimes - which he had politely refused after figuring that he did better with just the support of Roger at his side, instead of ten other people struggling to eat a slice of tomato just now that he was getting over his fear. Security around the place had been reformed and tightened, which meant that the overall vibe of Queen Mary’s was both more friendly yet more rigid, with frequent drug- and weapon searches. Even though neither Freddie nor Roger had anything to fear from these routines, they admitted frequently having taken shelter in John’s little hiding place between the walls of a series of sheds used to store God knew what my management.

‘We figured you wouldn’t mind if we used it, Deaky,’ Roger said. ‘It’s saved us so much time from those useless drug tests and fire escape training sessions.’

John smiled. ‘I’m glad to hear my cave has been of use to you. I’d almost forgotten about its existence already.’

‘Deacon! How could you forget that place!’ Freddie rebuked him. ‘The place where Brian and you first fucked!’

‘Kissed!’ Brian corrected him indignantly. ‘We merely kissed there!’ Freddie pulled a smug expression of doubt that told Brian he was wordlessly inviting him to discuss the matter, but before he could answer, John - who was still holding his hand - stood up and tugged him along in the process.

‘I want to have a look at the cave,’ he said. ‘It is a disgrace that I forgot it already. Brian and I have had some… moments there.’

Freddie nodded, and - seeming to understand that this was a more serious matter between Brian and John, Roger and he refrained from getting up from their places. Instead, they encouraged their friends to have a look and take their time, and so Brian found himself walking off towards the sheds built against the outer wall of Queen Mary’s, hand in hand with his partner. They did not speak to each other on their way to their destination; in fact, they did not say anything even when John had felt for the opening of the wall, had ushered the pair of them through, and closed the fake brick door behind them. Light descended upon them from the open roof, but still there was a dark atmosphere in the narrow hallway in which their eyes now travelled up and down the walls and the ground on which they had found themselves sitting a manyfold of times.

‘It’s weird how I already forgot about this place,’ John said, being the first to break the silence. ‘It’s served me well so many times. Served us even better,’ he smiled, obviously referring to the time after he’d introduced Brian to his secret shelter.

‘I remember the first time you took me here,’ Brian said. ‘We were on the swings and an alarm was sounding for a drug test that you didn’t feel like going for, so you dragged me through a fake brick wall into this place. I thought I was losing my mind.’

‘Yeah, well, you really would have lost your mind if you would have been exposed to that dumb drug search they tried to carry out. I’m glad I was able to save you from it. Well, on that day, at any rate,’ John added, very much aware of not having managed to escape drug tests and fire escape assignments every time. That might have caused suspicion - but whenever they could help it, they had hidden in the cave to elope them.

Unwanted drug and weapon searches had hardly been the only time they’d ended up in the cave. They had done so also to ensure a sense of privacy, or when they simply did not feel like dealing with any of the people around them. Something neither of them had alluded to, Brian realised, was the kissing scene Freddie had referred to. Not that this surprised him all too much; being caught by Freddie and Roger while in the midst of their first kiss had been embarrassing, but it had hardly been the worst aspect of the situation. It had been after making the mistake of gifting john the bass guitar in broad daylight and thus giving away his secret hobby to their friends that John had run off to the comfort of the cave’s solitude, and Brian had gathered all his strength and had followed behind to apologise.

What then followed had been an emotional rollercoaster in which John had admitted to having read Brian’s diary, just like Roger and Freddie, and thus knowing about his crush on him. Brian had been in tears, afraid that John would not want to have anything to do with him anymore - only to have John express his feelings for him then and there, and pouring all their feelings of relief and guilt and happiness into a kiss that had then been broken up by the arrival of Freddie and Roger. It had been an eventful day, both emotionally and physically, and not one of their proudest days - even though it had been the one that had brought them together. That, in the end, seemed to win John over in his consideration of whether or not to bring it up.

‘Remember our first kiss was in here?’ he asked casually, but the small, tensed smile on his lips told Brian he was a little nervous about bringing it up.

‘Of course,’ Brian assured him. ‘I’ll remember that until the day I die. Together with all the hecticality around it,’ he grinned.

‘God, we were stupid,’ John groaned leaning back against one of the brick walls. ‘Me running out of the room and going here, as if this would not be the most obvious place for anyone of you to come find me.’

‘And me, following you with a guitar in either hand. Running right past the wardens like a madman,’ Brian recalled.

‘I did the same,’ John admitted with a chuckle. ‘Wonder what they must have thought. Two losers following each other outside and disappearing behind the sheds. Well, they probably drew their conclusion based on that,’ he laughed.

Brian smiled, too. ‘If only they would have known we were just in here, both half in tears, trying to get the other to forgive them for having been stupid. I honestly thought you’d hate me forever.’

‘Me, hating you? For doing nothing more than giving me a great present in a bad setting? Never,’ John discarded the idea. ‘I was convinced you’d hate me for having read your diary.’

‘Well, if that would have been a factor, I would have had to hate all three of you after that day,’ Brian sighed. ‘I just feared you’d find it too awkward to ever face me again now that you knew I was in love with you.’

‘As if I hadn’t hoped for that all along,’ John grinned. ‘God, we were idiots. It’s a good thing that at least we kissed that day, so that at least something good came of all of that chaos.’

Brian smiled to himself, agreeing that the kiss had been the good thing that had come from all of the chaos. Or well, not solely the kiss; making up for having presented the gift at the wrong time from his side, and having reacted unreasonably from John’s, admitting the crushed they had both walked around with for too long, and the beginning of their relationship, had all taken place as a result of the more or less ridiculous events of that day. That was worth celebrating now that all had been said and done, Brian decided.

‘Now that we’re here, and now that we’re talking about it… Want a repeat performance?’ he offered to his partner, who looked him in the eyes - but unfortunately not for the reason Brian had been hoping for.

‘You want me to reread your diary and storm out of the room as you’re giving me a bass guitar?’ John asked incredulously.  

‘No, silly. The kiss. Without interference, this time,’ Brian clarified.

John stepped closer towards him, and halted right in front of him. ‘Even if it would include the interference I’d still want it,’ he said, and brought his lips closer to Brian’s face to accept the proposal he’d been offered.

Unlike their first time, Brian now knew exactly what he was doing. He had shared a hundred kisses and more with his partner since this moment, and was a lot more confident in his skills. What remained the exact same as it had been the first time, and what would not change by the time they’d share a thousand kisses, was that he still felt that same tinge of excitement, that same rush of butterflies darting through his stomach, that same hint of nerves that made his knees grow weak as his lips were pressed against John’s. Sure, he was less jittery than he had been during their first kiss, and he certainly did not feel any of the performance stress he had done back then - yet that same magical flutter of excitement and swell of love was still there as their lips moved against each other, their hands found their ways to each other’s shoulders, and when eventually the corners of their mouths twitched up towards the end of the kiss. By the time they realised the significance of the moment they were recreating - the moment that had broken all boundaries between them that had existed until that point. That kiss had been the beginning of their relationship, the development of their love and trust, which had eventually led their recovery - all of which brought them to this moment right there, right then.

They parted in the end, after probably a longer time than Brian would have estimated from the top of his head, but their hands remained on each other’s shoulders from another moment as they simply drank in the sight of their partner, who stood before them with a look of loving gratitude.

Brian was the first to speak, after a moment where all they uttered was silent breaths. ‘We should get back there. Before Freddie and Roger decide to come running in on us again.’

‘No repeat performance of that, then?’ John asked, and Brian laughed.

‘Not if I can help it. I’m sure that’s going to happen plenty of times when we live together,’ he reminded John, and lowered his hands from John’s shoulders so he could grab his hand instead. They moved out of the narrow space where in many ways their romance had started, closed the door off to the outside world again, and made their ways back to the swings in peaceful silence.

The remainder of the time together - which was not more than a handful of minutes outside, before one of the guards ushered them in again in line with Nolan’s instructions - was spent discussing practical matters, such as when Brian and John should come over to pick up their friends on the day they were to be released, and which preparations they should take before the great day. They discussed the furniture; not so much in terms of which patterns and colours they liked, but in terms of what they could bring from their parents’ houses and what they would need to buy still. Freddie had a double bed to his disposal, and Roger could move the couch from his bedroom at his mum’s place to their apartment. None of them had a kitchen table, although they were positive they could all fetch a chair somewhere. Cutlery and towels and similar small necessities they also decided they could come by from parents and other relatives - a coffee table, carpet, curtains, bookcase, and other furniture they’d shop around for later, once they would all be out of Queen Mary’s, and could all have a say in the choices and the expenditure.

They arrived back in a hallway were most people had gotten up from their chairs to either hug, kiss, or shake hands with the ones they would soon have to leave behind - and, understanding that there were only a few minutes left before Brian and John would likewise be asked to take their leave, the four of them said their goodbyes.

‘It was great to see you today, guys,’ Brian said. ‘And to see you’re both doing so well.’

‘We’re trying our best,’ Roger smiled. ‘Thanks for dropping by. We’re gonna miss you.’

‘Us too,’ Brian said, with the usual tinge of sadness he always felt when leaving their friends behind. John and he had come to see Freddie and Roger at every visiting opportunity since they had left Queen Mary’s themselves, but it never seemed to get easier to leave them behind, not even now that he knew they’d be back in a few weeks to take them with them and leave the institution behind for what he hoped would be forever.

‘We’ll send letters as usual, right?’ Freddie informed.

‘Of course,’ John said. ‘We’ll keep you up to date. Send you the details of the cleaning schedule by mail and such.’

Freddie pulled a face. ‘Don’t put me on bath or shower cleaning duty. If I have to clear the hairs of four long-haired guys out of the drain I will vomit.’

‘Brave of you to assume anyone apart from you showers regularly,’ John teased, which made Freddie gag so realistically that it left Brian wondering whether it had been staged or a real reflex of his.

‘You will shower, whether you like it or not,’ Freddie established. ‘I’ll send you the shower schedule by mail one of these days.’

They shared a laugh about this, but as Brian noticed the first people left the room, he leant in towards Roger and gave him the last hug for now. His body felt warm and less bony to the touch, and he clung to Brian for a solid ten seconds before letting go and allowing his friend to put his hands on his shoulders and share some words of comfort and confidence.

‘Keep up the good work, Roger,’ Brian encouraged him. ‘You’ve been clean for so long now, and we know you can keep this up.’

‘I know. I can do this,’ Roger said, and Brian pulled him closer for a pat on his back one more time before moving on to Freddie. His body was colder, but decidedly less feeble than it had once been; still, Brian hugged him carefully and for a shorter time, but it was just as loving and intimate.  The fact that the guards were starting to round up people also might have taken time away from their embrace, though.

‘Freddie, keep strong,’ Brian said, looking deeply into a pair of part-confident, part-scared brown eyes. ‘I know it’s hard, but please keep to your diet plan, and reach out for help when you need it.’

‘I will,’ Freddie promised. Then, clearing his throat, he said: ‘I’m gonna make you proud.’

‘We’re proud of you no matter what,’ Brian assured him. ‘Make yourself proud.’

Freddie looked at him with a hint of scepticism, but he kept his chin up, and he nodded. Brian could tell Freddie wasn’t just trying to comfort him, or to please him, by agreeing with him - he meant it.

Brian looked on as John similarly shared hugs and words of encouragement, after which they had one more clumsy group hug in the presence of Ian, and then they parted for real.

‘We’ll see you!’ Brian said, turning his head and waving over his shoulders. ‘Just a few more weeks!’ he added, and, hearing Roger answer him in a similar fashion, and seeing Freddie blowing them a kissy hand, they were out of the visiting area and back to the waiting room. They quietly handed in their visitor badges and, after having shared a few last words with Nolan to assure that they’d be back in a few weeks to pick up their friends, they walked out of the building in peaceful silence. This always seemed to be the state of things as they departed from the visiting hour; the people who had just gotten to realise they’d be away from their friends and family at Queen Mary’s for another month quietly retreated from the place. They might whisper, they might shed a few quiet tears - but overall they walked through the barren gardens and out of the gate in relative peacefulness. Briand and Roger largely followed the same procedure, apart from the fact that Brian spoke just before they reached the gate.

‘I’m always glad to see them,’ Brian commented. ‘Writing letters is really not the same than actually getting to sit with them and talk.’

‘I know,’ John agreed. ‘Especially now that they’re about to leave. It’s so much easier to discuss important things when you’re sitting face to face.’

‘Not that we discussed too many important things until the last minute today,’ Brian smiled.

‘But we discussed how they’re doing and how they feel. That’s just as important,’ John said, to which Brian had to agree. They had indeed held important discussions today, shared important information on their progress, and ideas for what they wanted to do once they would be released from Queen Mary’s. Most notable was the idea to begin their own second-hand slash tailor-made clothing stall in upscale Kensington Market - but if that was what they wanted, then Brian was ready to support them.

They sauntered out of the gates, and Brian looked up at the billboard proudly boasting Queen Mary’s name and function. The sigh had served as the inspiration for the name of their group - the group they had decided during their previous meeting that they wanted to carry on with regardless of whether they would go back to school, find a job, or do anything in between of that. Music was the thing that had connected them as friends rather than plainly roommates in the first place, and Brian had a feeling that it would connect them for a long time to come. It was something he would continue to be thankful for towards Queen Mary’s, even if the place itself had been nothing but a glorified inn into which the mentally troubled came and went out of again, travellers on the road their disorders lead them to, who found recovery in the journey rather than at the accommodations the road offered.

‘I remember the day when my parents dropped me off,’ Brian said, halting in his step and ignoring the people behind him who scoffed him for pausing at the side of the path. Glancing upon the billboard still, he recalled: ‘They told me I would once be grateful to them for dumping me here.’

John stopped and stood by him. ‘Were they right?’

‘Yes. But not for the reasons they expected,’ Brian smiled, knowing he did not have to elaborate on that point as John knew exactly what he meant. ‘But you know, maybe it was good for me after all. It sure was better than leaving me to sort things out with doctor Sumner alone.’

‘But it also pulled you through more trauma,’ John remarked. ‘I wish things like the death of Jimmy and Drew, and all of Freddie’s trying moments and Roger’s fallbacks and the violence and the drama and the overall chaos of this place would have been spared from you.’

‘I mean… I won’t say I’m happy about all I saw here, but I think it sort of led me to where I am today,’ Brian said. ‘You know, the thing is that you never know what would have happened things would have happened differently. Perhaps I would have recovered faster without having a knife put to my eye, or without seeing my roommates on the brink of death once a week. But I like to think that this place did lead me to where I am today. And even if it didn’t, then it still did lead me to you.’

John looked at him, but seemed to have trouble reciprocating the warm smile Brian gave him. ‘You need to stop saying meaningful things like that, Bri,’ John said, turning away from him a bit shamefully. ‘I’m not good with words. I can never reciprocate them.’

‘Doesn’t matter. I know that you care even if you can’t say it,’ Brian assured him.

As a sign of this, John interlaced his fingers with Brian’s, and together they walked off to the car, feeling a surprisingly bright autumn sun beaming down on his face. It was a fine day, especially for mid-November; and as it was only just noon, they had the whole day ahead of them to do exactly as they wished.

Upon approaching the car, Brian peeled the small bundle of keys out of his pocket, and opened up the door with a swift movement of the wrist. He did not sit down right away, though; in fact, he kept the door shut, and just stared at the large brick building in front of him. It did not occur to him that John had been doing the exact same until, about twenty seconds in, the voice of his partner at the other side of the car drew Brian’s attention.

‘Queen Mary’s. We’ll see you one more time before we’ll say our real goodbyes.’ John’s voice was melancholy, but when he turned to look at him, Brian found that his face was peaceful, serene, if a tad vacant perhaps.

‘Are you talking to a building?’ Brian asked - but although the question on its own would be funny, he kept a straight face as he saw John swallow somewhat painfully.

‘Not so much to the building. Just all the memories that lie there.’ John said, and although Brian could tell he tried, he could not oppress his voice from sounding a bit choked up. ‘It’s hard, you know. Even though it was… less than ideal most of the time, Queen Mary’s been my home for so long.’

Brian looked at his partner, and he genuinely felt for him. Queen Mary’s not having been ideal was just about the understatement of the century, but despite all of its faults, it had been their home; especially for John, who, prior to a few months ago, literally had no other place to call his apart from the institution. Moving away from the place that had safeguarded him from the abuse of his mother and the negligence of his aunt and uncle had proved not to be easy on John, who held a special connection to Queen Mary’s more than any one of them did. It was going to take some time to get over the loss of the place, but Brian was positive that with just that - time, and love, and patience - John would grow over his idealisation of the clinic, and turn to grow fond of the place they’d build up for themselves starting just a few weeks from then.

‘I know, honey,’ Brian said, ‘I know. But we’re going to build up our own home. Our own palace, with our own Queens.’

John was silent a first upon hearing this, and he continued to stare at the building before them. Brian didn’t mind; he knew he himself would also need a second to come up with a reply to a statement like this. What he did not expect, however, was that when John had thought of something to say, it was to tell him: ‘It’s not nice to call Freddie and Roger that behind their backs.’

Brian looked over to see John oppress a smile from the corners of his lips, and he knew it was alright to laugh about it, too. ‘You are the worst, Deaky,’ he grinned.

‘You said it,’ John reminded him, looking at Brian for the first time to flash him a smile that had Brian melt despite the situation. John opened the door of the car and leant in to get to his seat; Brian followed his example.

‘You interpreted it,’ he told John, before closing the door behind him once he had settled into the driver’s seat.

‘Touché,’ John allowed, and then sighed contentedly. ‘But you’re right. We will build up our own home, and it’s going to be so much better than Queen Mary’s. We’ll have our own space, and set it up as we like, and spend time the way we like. We can cook whatever we like, go to sleep and get up whenever we like…’ John said a tad dreamily.

‘We’ll play music whenever we want, until the neighbours come knocking on the walls,’ Brian said, before he suddenly remembered something - a long lost conversation on moving in together they had had while filling in forms for his reassessment, which had turned into a contest of coming up with the most specific niche household items and homey feelings for their future flat. ‘We’ll adopt some scrawny cats to hang in the curtains and buy ugly second-hand floral furniture to make the place cosy.’

Brian could tell by the bright smile on John’s face that he knew exactly what he was referring to. ‘And have an old TV that buzzes regardless of how you tune it or change the antenna. And what was it again? An ugly hand-me-down kettle from our mums?’

Brian thought for a second. ‘I think it was originally ugly knitted pillowcases and crocheted tablecloths, but knowing my mum, she’ll give us all of those.’

‘Fair. But only cookie tins with real cookies in it,’ John said, pulling the seat belt over his shoulder.

‘No spare light bulbs or sewing material,’ Brian filled him in. ‘You also said something about weird the flavours that you would try out and then dump in a potted plant if it didn’t taste good, if I remember correctly?’

‘To make the spider plants stop growing!’ John said, seeming excited that Brian would remember this silly part of their discussion - and Brian was likewise excited that John remembered what he was talking about. ‘They’ll go all over the place if you don’t keep an eye on them, I’m telling you. And you have to agree that you can’t die before at least having tried cotton candy flavoured tea.’ The spark of liveliness in John’s voice made Brian feel warm inside and eager to try one last thing.

‘Alright, we’ll kill spider plants with cotton candy flavoured tea, and decorate the living room with album sleeves. And we’ll be happy.’

This was the largest ordeal of them all, but Brian felt stupid about ever having doubted John’s memory in the first place when his lover replied in a heartbeat.

‘And we’ll be happy.’

Brian, feeling the irrepressible urge to hold John close and never let go of him again, leant in to kiss his partner on the lips, chastely but devotedly; and when he moved away when he started to feel overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude, gratitude to whatever power in the universe had allowed him to cross ways with John, he saw John’s radiant smile before he moved up and kissed his forehead.

They were the last to leave the parking lot. They saw a car driving off in the distance, and Ian’s new co-worker walking back to the building after having closed off the gates, only to be reopened when they would come to pick up Freddie and Roger next time. With the November sun setting in the sky behind them, they drove away Queen Mary’s for the forelast time; John’s hand resting on top of Brian’s on the gearshift, both knowing that they would be happy.

[imagine-always-and-forever]

Flutterings & Tequila -- Part 3

A Klaus Imagine

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries and The Originals

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Reader

Summary: you've decided to go clubbing with your best friend the last summer before college starts to take your mind off of the Mikaelsons who have invaded your life this summer. Specifically, you're trying to distract yourself from Niklaus Mikaelson and the flutterings he has caused you. Tequlia is your friend tonight.

Warnings: language, underage drinking, drunk jerks, typical canon violence

Word count: 2,355

Authors note: thank you so much for all the notes and the feedback! I really appreciate it!! Please let me know if you're enjoying this! I apologize for any mistakes as my internet on my laptop is down so I'm having to do this all on my phone!

Part 1  |   Part 2

Fic:

You sucked in a breath. Watching as Klaus looked the drunken idiot in the eyes, you waited for his words to sink into the idiot’s alcohol addled brain. When recognition lit in the unfocused gaze, the guy tried pulling away. Klaus didn’t budge.

“Fuck you,” he slurred and you sucked in another breath. You looked to Klaus, wondering if you were going to end up on the morning news when they discovered the idiot’s dead body and somehow linked him to you. Klaus only looked amused. The idiot guy looked at you, “and fuck you too. You’re an ugly bitch anyway,” he spat, covering his bruised ego.

Charming.

Klaus smiled. Oh no. “That’s not very nice,” he said, and you didn’t think the calm, almost sing-song way he said it boded well for the drunk guy still in his grip.

“Niklaus,” Elijah’s voice came in a chiding tone and you looked up to see Elijah now standing behind his brother. He was impeccably dressed, as per usual. You weren’t sure how he was wearing a designer and perfectly tailored suit in this heat at this club, but then again you also weren’t sure if he actually owned anything other than suits.

Klaus looked back at his brother innocently. “I’m being a good guest,” Klaus defended himself.

“There’s no reason to cause a scene,” Elijah countered, casually looking around to make sure everyone was still too caught up in their own night to notice what was going on in the middle of the club. Satisfied, his eyes went to the drunk kid, landing on the unnatural way his arm was twisted in his brother’s grasp. He sighed. “You’ve already broken his arm, surely that’s enough for a warning?”

The guy must have been really drunk because it took hearing Elijah for him to register the pain. Before Klaus could answer, the drunk idiot let out a loud yell. Klaus’s hand covered his mouth before it could draw attention. He glared at the guy.

Elijah stepped up. He grabbed the drunk’s face and looked him in the eyes. “You’re going to leave this place and go to a hospital. You won’t come back here and in the future when a woman says no, you’ll listen,” he compelled him. The kid stared, enraptured. He nodded his head. “Oh,” Elijah said, still as calm as ever, “and don’t scream.”

Klaus removed his hand and let the guy go. You waited, holding your breath, as you watched him blink. Before he moved, he looked at Klaus.

“You broke my arm,” he muttered.

Klaus smiled in reply. He let his eyes change. They glowed bright gold in the darkness of the club, and in the flashes of light, you could see the veins protruding under his eyes. He curled back one lip for just the tiniest peak of his fangs.

The drunk idiot stumbled backwards in fear, falling on the dirty club floor with his eyes wide in horror.

Elijah sighed as he looked at the ceiling, clearly over this detour in their night’s plans. He seemed to sigh a lot with Klaus. He walked over to the drunk and grabbed hold of him. He picked him up and looked him in the eyes again. “You’ll forget about tonight and about us. Now go.” As the kid all but ran for the door, Elijah walked back to join you and Klaus. “Was that really necessary, Niklaus?” he asked his little brother.

Klaus, barely holding back a grin, shrugged. Innocent as ever.

The Mikaelsons turned to look at you.

“Thanks,” you smiled widely.

Klaus smiled back at you, sending a look to his brother as if your reaction justified the breaking of limbs. His eyes landed on yours again, amusement dancing in them as he noticed your wild hair and alcohol flushed cheeks. Flutterings. There were flutterings again. You avoided his gaze and looked at Elijah. You definitely needed more to drink. Or less. You weren’t sure.

“We didn’t expect to see you here,” Elijah said, eyes narrowing on you.

You focused on him, thinking about what to say. Elijah waited patiently for a response, almost as amused as his brother at seeing you like this. You wanted to explain that if they had bothered to get to know you even the slightest bit that they wouldn’t have this false image of you in their heads. Sure, you weren’t entirely sure what that image was but you could pretty much guarantee that the description of you involved words like “innocent,” “meek,” “good girl,” and “boring.” Of all those things, the last one was the most aggravating. But, unfortunately, you were far too drunk to string together a coherent explanation of your life story. Also, if it took until they had undeniable proof that you just might be worth a mere moment of their time, then they could fuck right off because you weren’t here for their amusement.

Flutterings be damned. They didn’t deserve an explanation even if you weren’t drunk. It’s too bad your mouth and your brain weren’t on the same page.

“Yeah, I usually don’t do this but they were looking the other way with IDs tonight so…” you babbled before trailing off. You suddenly remembered losing your best friend in the crowd and started wondering where she had gotten to.

Klaus smirked at you.

“How old are you?” Elijah asked.

“I’ll be nineteen in a just under a month,” you replied without looking at them. You couldn’t see anything but drunk people dancing. No sign of her.

“Well, I for one have never understood the drinking age,” Klaus said. Elijah glanced at his brother. Distracted once again, you turned to look at him. Klaus hadn’t moved his eyes off you, and you had the feeling that he was five steps ahead of you on a game you didn’t know you were playing. “Perhaps you’d care to join us at our table?” he asked, gesturing up to the balcony above.

“Yeah, sure,” you chirped happily, the alcohol still running through your system. With your mind still offline, you couldn’t find a single reason to say no. It sounded fun! Besides, despite not knowing them much personally, you found that you’d developed a bit of a soft spot for the Mikaelsons. You beamed at Klaus. He was your favorite. These flutterings weren’t so bad anyway. They made you feel all warm. Or maybe that was the alcohol.

“Follow me,” Klaus grinned like the Cheshire cat.

You went to follow but at the sound of some girl’s loud yell of excitement, you remembered your best friend. You stopped and gasped, your hand going to your mouth dramatically. Klaus and Elijah looked at you expectantly. “I need to find my friend!” you announced and turned to wander off to look for her.

Klaus’s hand on your arms stopped you and you frowned as you looked down at it. You half expected it to be covered in paint.

“The girl you were dancing with earlier?” Elijah asked as you kept staring at Klaus’s hand.

You nodded. Klaus’s hands weren’t as rough as you thought they’d be. You’d think with all the murdering and paintbrush holding that he’d have developed more callouses. Maybe it was a vampire thing. Or a wolf thing. Or a hybrid thing. They were very soft. Did he moisturize? Huh. That was probably it. Never underestimate a good moisturizer. Immortality and eternal youth only went so far.

“I’ll find her,” Elijah said, pulling you from your musings.

You looked up to see Klaus smirking at you before you turned your attention to Elijah. “Thanks,” you smiled at him. Elijah was so nice. “You’re the best!” you declared, beaming once more.

Looking back at Klaus, you found him with an odd expression on his face, an arm extended to you. You looked down at his offered arm. Hey, look at that! Chivalry wasn’t dead. It was just a hybrid. You giggled at your own joke as you took his arm. With a dizzying tug and rush of a breeze, you found yourself standing in front of a table with four seats, three empty and one of them with Rebekah in it.

“Did you have to break his arm?” she asked her brother with a roll of her eyes.

Klaus shrugged, a little smile on his face.

“Hi,” you smiled happily at Rebekah. You never got to hang out with Rebekah. Come to think of it, you’ve never hung over with any of them. Unless you counted the very rare teas you had with Elijah. Which you didn’t because he mostly sat reading a very old and dusty book while sipping perfectly from a teacup as you drank your own. Maybe this would start a new tradition.

Rebekah cocked a perfectly plucked eyebrow at you.

“Play nice,” Klaus chastised his baby sister.

“Am I the only one who has questions?” she asked. “All she’s done for the past three months is work in a bookshop, stay in her room, and wear basic outfits. Now she’s in a club like this, underage, and dressed like that,” she said, gesturing to your outfit.

You knew they thought you were boring! Wait. Did she just compliment your outfit? You looked down at what you were wearing and hoped you’d remember this tomorrow so you could thank your best friend for talking you into wearing this tonight. You smiled up at Rebekah.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“I think you look ravishing, love,” Klaus smirked into your ear. You beamed. Nobody has ever called you ravishing before!

Rebekah narrowed her eyes at her brother, but you didn’t notice. There was a bottle of very expensive looking stuff on the table. You reached for it just as you felt a breeze hit you from behind.

“Y/N!!” your best friend exclaimed as if she hadn’t seen you in ten years.

You turned around just in time to catch her as she threw her arms around you in a bear hug. She was probably too drunk to notice how fast she’d gotten to you.

“I found her at the bar,” Elijah said.

“I was waiting for you!” she announced. “I took another shot. But I ordered two and you didn’t come so I took that as well. Then I drank something while I waited for you. Then this Disney prince guy came up to me and tried telling me to go home! Like he could just order me about!” she said in shock at Elijah’s attitude. “Can you believe it? I’m a strong independent woman!” she proclaimed.

You laughed at Elijah being called a Disney prince. That should be his new nickname!

“It seems I wasn’t compelling enough,” Elijah said. Oh. Right. You’d dosed her right up with vervain. Just because you refused it and left yourself vulnerable didn’t mean you’d let her be vulnerable to compulsion!

“Sorry,” you giggled sheepishly.

“Are these your friends?” your best friend asked.

You burst into a wide smile. She knew you had people staying with you but details were kept to a minimum. At the thought of being able to call the vampires surrounding you your friends, you felt a rush of excitement and pride.

“These are the Mikaelsons!” you introduced. Why hadn’t you introduced them before? They’d get along great! Rebekah and your best friend had a lot in common because they both really liked fashion, or shopping at the least. You walked over to Rebekah, “This is Rebekah! She’s their little sister. She’s really pretty as you can see and I think you two have the same shell top. You know the one you got last week?”

Your friend nodded, smiling widely at Rebekah. See? You knew they’d get along.

The Mikaelsons looked at you with amusement.

“Your Disney prince over here,” you said going over to Elijah, “is Elijah. He’s the oldest. He only wears suits and likes reading big old books.”

Klaus snorted and Elijah sent him a warning look.

“And this,” you beamed and looked at Klaus, focusing all your attention on him. He looked very handsome in this outfit. You supposed he was usually dressed like this, but he looked very good in it so it really wasn’t a wonder why he stuck to his style. What was that saying? If you’ve got it, flaunt it? Wait. Was that the one? “This is Nik!” you announced.

Elijah, Rebekah, and Klaus seemed to all share a look.

“What?” you asked. Klaus shrugged, his eyebrows raised and looking fine with it, if not a bit amused. You looked at Elijah and Rebekah. “What?” you asked again.

“Most people call our brother Klaus,” one of them answered but you were too busy to notice who as you watched your best friend slink into one of the seats opposite Rebekah.

“That’s his name though!” you replied as your best friend reached for the same bottle you’d had your eyes on before.

“Wait is his name Klaus or Nik?” she asked before trying to take a large swig only to frown when she found the bottle empty.

You looked at Klaus, a small frown of concentration on your face. If his full name was Niklaus and he went by Klaus and Nik, which was the right one? Most people said Klaus, but then again you heard Rebekah and Kol call him Nik. Also, you called him both depending if it was in thought or to his face. “Both.”

“You can’t have two names!”

“It’s Niklaus! Nik and Klaus!”

“Nik-Klaus?”

“No one word.”

“Niklaus. My brother’s name is Niklaus,” Rebekah said as Klaus continued to watch in amusement.

“Oh,” your best friend replied. “So what should I call him?”

“Klaus,” you stated, very sure of yourself. She shouldn’t call him Nik. It was weird.

“Why did you call him Nik?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know! It just popped out!” You were drunk. These things happened. Filters stopped working. You hadn’t been told to stop so it couldn’t be that big a deal.

“Can I call him Nik?” she asked you.

“No,” you replied in unison with Klaus.

“Oh. We need drinks!” your best friend announced suddenly. What an excellent idea.

“I think we were just heading out, actually,” Elijah said.

“Nonsense, brother,” Klaus smiled, sitting down in his chair and leaning back. His leg crossed casually as he watched your best friend start chanting for drinks. “The nights still young,” he grinned.

“TEQUILA!” your best friend shouted.

“Brother, be a dear,” Klaus said, looking to Elijah. Elijah thought for a moment but turned to head to the bar.

“DON’T FORGET THE LIME AND SALT,” you yelled after him.

He was back before you could wonder if he’d spill the shots speeding back. In his hand was a bottle of tequila, a salt shaker, and an entire jar of sliced limes.

“WAIT,” you said, your eyes wide open as he placed the things down on the table. “We have to do this properly.”

“And how do we do that,” Klaus asked.

You weren’t sure if he really didn’t know or was humoring you. Either way, you always jumped at the chance to impart your shot taking wisdom on someone. Even if they were over a thousand years old and a supposed big bad hybrid.

“Watch,” you instructed. You poured out a shot and licked the back of your hand. You carefully added the salt to it. “The right amount is key,” you informed them. You picked up the shot, showing them that it was in one hand and then a slice of lime, showing them it was in the other. You waited until they all looked at you. Klaus was smirking. You liked his smirk. It made those flutterings come back. Why were those concerning before?

You nodded to them and proceeded to do the shot. Lick, drink, lime.

“Tada!” you beamed as you put the shot back on the table.

Klaus clapped slowly.

“Now your turn,” you announced and poured them a shot each.

They took the shot without fail. It may have been due to practice, but you were pretty sure your excellent demonstration was the real reason they did it so well.

“Shall we do another?” Klaus suggested.

“I don’t-“

You cut Elijah off with a squeal. “I have an idea!”

All eyes were on you. Well, Klaus’s eyes were on you. But that’s all that really mattered.

“Body shots!” you exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement.

[brown9045luis]

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[cryptocoinguides]

Why is Nigeria Creating its Own Cryptocurrency?

I just read now that 1 dollar is now, 410 Naira officially all the way from 393 and from 485 to 495 on the black market. Almost 500 Naira to a dollar whew. The Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria in an article according to Nairametrics is said to have stated that Nigeria will have its own Digital Currency. The statement reads We are committed to the CBN and I can assure everybody that Digital Currency will come to life even in Nigeria Does this mean that Nigeria will have its own coin, NGNT, Nigerian Naira Tetherhmmm I wonder where we’ve heard that one before.

But what do you think, would you use a coin issued by the Central Bank of Nigeria, drop a comment below.

I’m also going to talk about the new Dollar Limit in this video and of course, the new Naira rate as well. How’s it going guys, its Fisayo here and welcome to another Finance Friday episode, that’s coming not on a Friday this time. If you’re new, welcome if you’re returning, welcome back. Please hit that like button so more people can see the analysis were about to share here and of course, if this video is useful to you at all, just tap that like button.

Without further ado, let’s jump right into the video.

Okay, first things first, Is Nigeria going to be issuing a digital currency of its own. That is a huge deal if that goes through. One major country that is testing the waters in China. The idea of the Chinese digital currency is that it’s issued by their Central Bank. The major thing this will create is that China now has the ability to monitor the economy to a tee and, well you guessed it, monitor the people.

This is everything that Bitcoin stands against. It’s however not shocking to many analysts because of what is usually termed the Great Digital Firewall of China. Western Social Media apps like Twitter and many others don’t work there and to reroute it and use is even illegal. They have their own version of most services so it only makes sense that they went this route. Its also fascinating that China has according to unofficial statistics, about 70% of the virtual currency mining space or crypto mining.

This is also why the prices of these currencies shift drastically when something happens in China like bitcoin bans or mining crackdowns and of. Course Elon Musk. This even makes the volatility that cryptocurrencies have even more.

Nigeria famously banned bitcoin, I’ve mentioned it countless times in the series and I made a 2-part video about it which I’ll link below. Now, just slightly over 2 months later, we see that the Central Bank is saying that Nigeria should have a digital currency of its own.

I took to Twitter to ask what you guys thought and the feedback was quite interesting. The majority of the people mentioned that they wouldn’t want that especially considering they could be tracked and some people think that it would help since we can trace nearly all transactions. We can even trace government transactions but while that seems like a good thing, we don’t know for sure that this Digital overhaul is possible especially considering the statistics of people in the country that is banked or the number of active bank accounts in Nigeria being as much as 111 million.

Keep in mind that this isn’t 111 million people but 111 million bank accounts. The estimate from 2019 puts it that 73 million people had bank accounts then but of course, because of the surge in accounts being opened in 2020 due to the pandemic, it’s safe to say that its most likely close to 100 million or according to Guardian, 49% of Nigerians having bank account meaning 1 in every 2 people in Nigeria have a bank account.

The statistics even looks a little more out of place for a digital currency happening in Nigeria when you consider that again, only 40% of the Nigeria population can access the internet via a mobile phone, and let’s not even talk about proper smartphone penetration in Nigeria or how many people have access or would willingly be open up to a system like this. The implications for a digital currency in Nigeria can seriously help the Nigerian economy in a way that there’s transparency but the adverse effect or the disadvantage can come from the very top if it’s heavily centralized and people are penalized for using money.

It will be very easy for the central bank to block a person’s account that it doesn’t like. Also if the central bank is issuing digital currencies or better still if one entity is issuing it and it can go from there directly to the customer, the role of commercial banks might be affected but that’s an extreme case. Speaking of extreme cases, it could also widen the gap between rich and poor, good old inequality and at the same time it could have serious effects on the exchange rate and there would be crazier pump and dump schemes.

But I want to know what your thoughts are about the whole thing guys, let me know just leave a comment below if you think you’d love a Digital Naira and also if it even makes sense to consider.

If you’re finding this video useful so far, alike would really be appreciated as well. Speaking of the exchange rate. The Naira is now officially 410 Naira to $1, it was 393 before, and now, food prices have skyrocketed like crazy in Nigeria, restaurants have added 100 to as much as 500 Naira on almost every single food item. I bought one tiny piece of meat for 500 Naira.

A dollar pretty much. *Face Palm* Hey guys, it’s Fisayo here andOn a much lighter note. One of the leading banks in Nigeria, First Bank has launched its new website. I’m a designer and I thought it would only make sense to share. It actually looks visually appealing both on mobile and even on the web.

I’m on the go a lot, I frequently use my phone and the experience with the website is more modern and super easy on the eyes with different micro-interactions here and there.

You can, of course, log in and do your online banking, and the new website even lets you browse in your own preferred language and you can see a drop-down regardless of the platform. Whether it’s personal banking, business banking, and even private banking, all the functionality is right at your fingertips and easy to access. Do check out the new website displayed right here or with the link in the description of this video. Also, drop a comment below if you’re a first bank user.

I’d love to know what your thought are. Thank you for watching, I’ll see you at the next one. Alright back to the video. If you’ve been following my Finance Friday series, you would see that I’ve covered inflation in Nigeria and how we got to this point where now we’re almost at 500 Naira to 1 dollar. It’s a good watch and I recommend you check out that video, I also talked about some things you can do to stay on top of saving and investing considering how everything seems to be shifting.

One of the things I recommended a lot to people who were considering saving in a currency like a dollar or pounds for instance was to open a domiciliary account. A domiciliary account is basically an account of a foreign currency that exists or is domiciled in your home country. So you can walk into a bank that you have an existing account with, open a dollar, pounds, or euro account. What you’ll need are 2 references who also have current accounts in other banks or better still the same bank? There are many functions of an account like that and one thing it can help you with is if you want to pay school fees for instance, or if you travel and you want to use a card that is dollar-based and not has to worry about the currency rate.

The CBN silently has put out a policy that you cannot deposit more than $5,000 to your own domiciliary bank account in a month over the counter. Why? The main reason according to analysts for this move is that it would help the Naira currency so that people that are speculating on the dollar and putting pressure on the Naira would stop.

You see right now in Nigeria, there are 2 markets for our currency. There’s the bank rate at 410 and the parallel market aka black market rate at 495.

This means there’s a huge 80 Naira gap in between. So for instance, if someone got a dollar, let’s say 1,000 dollars at 410,000 at the bank and they want to change it to Naira at the black market, they sell at 495,000 making a total of 80,000 of course this is next to impossible because banks don’t give ordinary people at that anyway.

It’s reserved for school fees, travelers, and the likes and there’s even a limit to how much you can get for travelers I believe it’s $4,000. Although not many people use Domiciliary accounts, the few who do have complained that it’s hindering a lot and it is because to imagine if you’re a small business and you have to buy somethings abroad. The Naira cards already have little hope because the limit is $100 per month so you can’t do anything, now the limit for your dollar is $5,000 to even deposit to your account to pay and you would have to wait for a whole month before that limit expires.

It would definitely hinder someone like that however, it’s a policy, and in the long run, it’s generally for the benefit of the entire economy. But again Id loves to know your thoughts on this. Do you have a domiciliary account? Are you bothered by the $5,000 limit or do you think it’s a good thing that they’ve done? If you found this video useful so far, do hit that like button and also hit that subscribe button alongside the bell icon beside it to turn on notifications so you’ll be the first to know when we drop a new video.

Read More: Ripple XRP To $10,000 Post SEC Lawsuit!

via Why is Nigeria Creating its Own Cryptocurrency?

[carriejonesbooks]

So, I have to go to Book Expo America at the end of this week. If you are not some official publishing person you’re probably like, “What is Book Expo America?” It’s this big huge massive (insert another large-sounding adjective here) industry thing where there are:

1. Publishers 2. Authors 3. Book sellers 4. Publicists

And almost all of them are well dressed.

There is the issue! I am from Maine…. Okay, I live in Northern Maine. How northern? When people from Glamour Magazine came up here to do a photo shoot with Megan Kelley Hall and myself (for our Dear Bully anthology) they made us DRESS IN LL BEAN CLOTHES!!!!!

Yes, even Glamour knew that it is not glamorous up here.

Sigh.

Megan still looked good. Me? The hair stylist/make-up person kept complaining about my hair, and how my nose turned red in the cold, and I felt so badly for her because she was used to super models or My Little Pony (really – she was the stylist for My Little Pony) and then she got stuck with me.

Anyway, I was thinking about BEA and authors who are always beautiful and poised and funny and lovely. And I have decided I need to somehow magically channel these authors at BEA so I don’t look like a hick from Maine or like, you know, I’ve never actually interacted with other actual human beings before.

But pretty much everything in my wardrobe has paint stains on it, holes, or long white dog fur.

She always blames me. There are lint rollers out there for a reason. Geesh.

I basically come across as either an eccentric old-money professor or homeless.

You may think I have no reason to be panicky, but I’m going to repost what happened to me the last time I went to BEA, and maybe you’ll understand.

ONCE AGAIN FOR THOSE WHO MISSED IT BEFORE – HERE IS THE HORRIBLE INCIDENT OF ME AT BEA LAST TIME (Taken from the original blog post of horror): So, yep, I had my skirt fall off (YES! PAST MY KNEES!) when I got out of the taxi today!  Oh, Britney…oh Lindsey…oh Paris… I so feel your pain. Fortunately, there were no paparrazzi, just my cab driver (His eyes got really big) and a father with his eight-year-old son (WHO WILL NEVER BE THE SAME!). They were standing right there, waiting for the taxi. The little boy gasped! GASPED!!!! I have marred him for life.

I then realized I should not be let out of Maine.

So I started yanking my skirt up with my hand while trying to: a. Pay taxi driver guy b. not die c. juggle three massive bags full of ARCS d. not worry about that little boy’s therapy bills.

It was then that I realized that hotel security cameras probably totally caught the skirt fall action.

I thanked God (and pretty much every potential deity in existence) that I am not famous and therefore not worthy enough to have the skirt DISASTER image blasted all over the internet.

I then hid in the hotel room, vowing never to come out again.

So, yeah. I don’t want that to happen again.

If you would like to see me in unsuitable clothes, check out the Lerner Booth on Friday, June 1 from 11:30 to noon.  I’ll be there with a spy who was also a catcher. 🙂

  WRITING NEWS

Yep, it’s the part of the blog where I talk about my books and projects because I am a writer for a living, which means I need people to review and buy my books or at least spread the word about them.

I’m super good at public image and marketing for nonprofits but I have a much harder time with marketing myself.

So, please buy one of my books. 🙂 The links about them are all up there in the header on top of the page on my website carriejonesbooks.blog .  There are young adult series, middle grade fantasy series, stand-alones for young adults and even picture book biographies.

Time Stoppers

Flying

Moe Berg

Write! Submit! Support! Begins Again in July!

“It’s not easy to create a thriving writing career in the children’s industry, but what if you didn’t have to do it alone? Write. Submit. Support is a six-month program designed by author and Writing Barn Founder Bethany Hegedus. Classes are led by top creatives in the children’s industry field; they’ll give you the tips and tools you need to take both your manuscripts and your developing career to the next level. Think of it as an MFA in craft with a certificate in discovering (or recovering) your writer joy! – Writing Barn “

And more about the class I specifically teach? It is right here.

Here is what current students are saying:

Carrie is all strengths. Seriously. She’s compassionate, funny, zesty, zany, insightful, honest, nurturing, sharp, and…Wow, that’s a lot of adjectives. But really, I couldn’t praise Carrie enough as a mentor. I’ve long respected her writing, but being talented at something doesn’t automatically mean you will be a great mentor. Carrie just happens to be one of those rare cases of extreme talent and excellent coaching. Aside from the specific feedback she offers, she also writes letters in response to the process letter and analyses. These letters have been so impactful for me as I writer that I plan to print them and hang them up. Creepy? Maybe. But they are so inspiring. And that, in the most long-winded way possible, is how I would summarize Carrie as a mentor—inspiring.

Dogs Are Smarter Than People

And finally, the podcast DOGS ARE SMARTER THAN PEOPLE is still chugging along. Thanks to all of you who keep listening to our weirdness. We’re sorry we laugh so much… sort of.

Look, Mom! It’s a podcast.

Book Expo America is Coming and I have Nothing to Wear So, I have to go to Book Expo America at the end of this week. If you are not some official publishing person you’re probably like, “What is Book Expo America?” It’s this big huge massive (insert another large-sounding adjective here) industry thing where there are:

[kamcava101-2]

CAVA103 Digital and Online Week 4

Review Instagram Posts

I tried this post - just a quick iPhone shot (4 images)

Tried different times, variations, etc on my Narrabri Video

I was doubting the shorter format but it had the most views.

Review YouTube

Not a lot happening....

Class discussion Test links using for submission - use incognito window

Review Twitter

No likes... video has had 7 views...

YouPic Review No progress since last posted.. need to post more regularly? Daily?

Flickr - haven't added anything, opened account - site is down?

Behance - I'm going to leave this platform for now, will revisit later... I need to research further.

Will add my Landscape shots from CAVA124 (2018) to YouPic... Can't upload photoshop files, will need to convert. Have option to do PNG 8 vs PNG 24 - ?? Googled

Also added images to Flickr

Was quick - could add multiple and edit multiple at a time

What will I do on Instagram today... the landscape shots will be too big... will try Revisited resizing images - found this article https://www.instructables.com/id/How-to-Resize-a-Photo-for-Instagram/ Resized images, had to download Flume again (taken off Uni computer), uploaded to Instagram. Added to Twitter too

Tried to add to Tumbler.. files still too big

Worked out was an operator error... was trying to upload png files that hadn't been resized...Didn't upload - 4 photos was too many?

Will try again...

Files uploaded individually - no problem, very quick.

The landscape images gained a lot more interaction than any of my previous posts... the people have spoken?

YouPic

I did however receive some pretty harsh feedback, paradoxically from someone that liked the image...

Twitter - finally had some interaction... I'm a bit surprised, I wasn't expecting anything. Feedback from Travis (who became my 3rd like) was that the like and retweet from Nerdy might be a bot

Conversation with Travis... Wikipedia could be an option to put my images on, see (tried embed code here, not working??) - direct link https://adage.com/creativity/work/north-face-top-imagens/2174261

aha, very funny and clever. Wikipedia, however, not vert happy with this strategy...

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/05/30/business/north-face-wikipedia-leo-burnett.html

Can also try adding images to Google maps.

I had interaction on Flickr too..

Worked on Plant Scan in Photoshop - took photos to use for my maker video.Wasn't able to upload to YouPic with tif files - converted to jpeg & then resized for InstagramPosted to Instagram via Flume app - love how Flume remembers your last set of hashtags, so you can select them and don't have to type in again.

The Leaf scans went well on Instagram, the final image was the most popular with 10 likes.

Started to upload scans onto YouPic and the image was too large.... sigh.... The image also didn't keep all formatting when exported to jpeg format??

I'll have to try again.. I looked at the file sizes, the first image was over 80MB (1200 resolution scan), tried to upload the second image as was 20 MB - still too big. Uploaded sixth scan as was 5MB - uploaded fine.. but then

Will have to decide whether I join or not.. and if I do at what level. Pricing https://youpic.com/pricing

Added the 4 smallest images to Flickr - was a little worried about the 10MB image but it was fine. Still loving that I can edit the title, description and tags all at once.

Added resized images to Twitter - tried to add together.. unsuccessfully... then added individually. Looked at #photography, liked and followed others...

Realised I hadn't added a profile picture to google and YouTube - used 'Kazastan' Avatar

Created Making video in Adobe Premiere Rush. Purchased music from Audio Jungle for the Audio. Looped the Audio in Audition. Added transition Cross Dissolve.

Added Leaf Textures Images to Tumblr blog

I read the final article recommended on Moodle Axel Bruns: Produsage: A Working Definition (2007) [http://produsage.org/node/9] “produsage - the collaborative and continuous building and extending of existing content in pursuit of further improvement”

It is an interesting concept, I looked into a bit further and found the following simplified key characteristics of Produsage.

https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/13614568.2011.563626

So from this, my understanding is that Produsage is a collaborative approach, focussing on leveraging the assets of others. I was also thinking about copyright and what barriers this might present - how willing are people to give up their rights to their content? See above ‘Common property, individual rewards’ - will personal status alone be enough? I can understand that this would work in a team environment - but in an open market would there be similar successes? Open source software has been a success, therefore there may not be any barriers to the progression of Produsage?

Final review of posts

YouPic

It was great to see that this was a popular post, along with interaction on Instagram, it means I am able to be creative with my work, it is not only the pretty landscapes shots that engage people.

No interaction (yet?) on Flickr

Twitter

I received a couple of follow backs and NerdyFlow (Bot?) retweeted me... Nothing on Tumblr.... Have received a few more likes on Instagram Nothing happening on Twitter...

Reflection It was interesting to push myself to post my old and new works on multiple platforms. It is a lot of work to try to raise your profile and I think I still have a long way and a lot to learn before my profile is established and (hopefully) this leads to being able to monetize my work. I am still working on my niche... once I have determined this I believe I will be more successful.

[potential-zine-blog]

Lead Creators

Lead Creators are people who are helping the mod run the zine. If you can’t get a hold of the mod feel free to ask them your questions.

Mintless - Lead Editor

twitter : @FeedMintless

tumblr : feedthemintless

portfolio : http://feedthemintless.tumblr.com/

Err, hello ? I'm Mintless, and I am use to live under pressure so don't worry about giving me more work and less sleep. Beside that I am grateful for any person who give me food and fluff. Please listen to the mod, Nika, or else i will imaginary Slap you and give you a "you-deceive-me" stare.

Mebuki - Page Creator

My main socials are:

http://meteorysh.tumblr.com

http://twitter.com/Meteorysh

Hi! I'm Mebuki and I'm an artist. I love Keith more than everything in the entire galaxy. And also Shiro!! They're the lights of my life. All of my work can be viewed on my artblog, http://meteorysh.tumblr.com ~ Everything's properly tagged so you can easily browse, too. (e.g. tagged 'voltron', tagged 'sheith' etc). Looking forward to help saving the universe with this amazing team!!

Grayson/Gray - Lead Cosplayer

https://twitter.com/ghostyjpg

http://ghostyjpg.tumblr.com/

Hey there, my name is Grayson but I also go by Gray or Keith. I'm an

artist and cosplayer and will be your lead cosplayer for this zine!

You can check out my cosplays over on my instagram @ghostprincecosplay

if you're interested! I have a lot of free time and am probably the

most awkward Canadian you'll ever meet. I look forward to

participating and helping out in the zine!

Kat - Lead writer

Hi, thank you for the opportunity for a lead position!! I'm so excited for this zine and can't wait to see it come together.

My preferred socials are twitter.com/jedimasterkat7 and jedimasterkatwrites.tumblr.com

You can see all my work on Ao3 under the name jedimasterkat! Here's a link just in case: http://archiveofourown.org/users/jedimasterkat/works

And here's a little description for me (this was harder than I thought lol):

Hey cool cats, my name is Kat and I'm a writer! Voltron has single handedly saved and ruined my life. I love the whole Voltron team, but Keith and Lance make me cry on a daily basis. You can see my work on Ao3 under the name jedimasterkat, and I encourage you to check out the amazing work of the mod, Nika, and my fellow leads as well. Feel free to message me or talk to me, I'm the chillest of chill and love meeting more people!

Viperfish/Viper - Lead Artist

Tumblr - https://viiperfish.tumblr.com/

Twitter - https://twitter.com/Viiperfish

Artwork - https://viiperfish.tumblr.com/tagged/viperart

Hey! I’m Viper (they/them) and I’m an animation student from England! My hobbies include drawing monsters and demon boys as well as crying over fictional characters haha. As much as I love all of the Voltron characters, my favourite character is Pidge, with Lance being a close second!

The best place to contact me is through tumblr messenger/tumblr ask (but you can still contact me through my gmail or twitter!) I’m happy I can help and I look forward to working with you guys!

Sam/Aether - Page Creator

here are my socials:

twitter: aetherlogic

tumblr: aetherlogic

discord: aetherlogic

Ii post most of my doodles through twitter and only a select few pieces on my tumblr, but most of my stuff would be in my portfolio: https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B1GfWM8hTySqQTM3ZDZ5dkszbjg

Hi! I'm Sam/aether and I'm really excited to be a lead creator for this zine. A little about me: I'm an artist who basically runs on no sleep and is stressed 24/7. I really enjoy participating in Voltron fan events, and I will actually throw myself off a cliff for (especially) Pidge, Coran, and my ships.

I'll do my best to make sure that everything runs smoothly and effectively! I'm an artist for the zine as well; I post my doodles on my twitter and some finished pieces on my tumblr.

Brii - Lead Editor

My works can all be found on Ao3  - archiveofourown.org/users/StygianLotus/works

Hey, my name is Brii (they/them), and I'm a writer. You can find my works on Ao3 under the name StygianLotus, but I also encourage you to check out the other amazing leads and the mod, Nika. Voltron dragged me back into fandoms (not that it's a bad thing), and my favorite character is Shiro, with Lance and Hunk not too far behind. Feel free to send me a message whenever!

Hannah - Page Creator

My work will be here (it will be soon, I will post the rest as soon as possible): https://www.wattpad.com/user/phoenixninja978

twitter is: https://twitter.com/hannahzgrace

main tumblr is: https://startled-seastar.tumblr.com/

second tumblr it is here: https://trouvaille-love.tumblr.com

Hi there! It's Hannah! I am an avid fandom nerd and figure skater (not a very good one, I believe), and I'm glad to help with this project! Reading is one of my favorite pastimes, and I would love to just sit on the couch and read all day. Realistically, though, I'm probably either stressing about where my life is going or distracting myself from that by watching VLD, attack on titan, or yuri!!! on ice. I'm awkward, my inbox is always open, and I'm excited to get started!

Kayt - Lead Writer

Socials @Sleeping4tNight on twitter and tumblr. Um... a self description? I like to proofread I guess. That's a thing...I'm not good at describing myself. I love being in fandom and participating in stuff because that's fun. I love music so I like making playlists and writing stuff. I'm pretty open to talking whenever. Oh dear, I promise I'm not as boring as I sound.

Ninna - Lead Writer

Twitter: https://twitter.com/annattata

Tumblr: https://ninnani.tumblr.com/

i all, I’m Ninna (she/they). I’m a creative writing major in Florida. I’ve been writing for most of my life, and I have two original short stories pending publication in my campus literary magazine.

I live and breath AU’s, I’m a huge multishipper, and I love Lance a perfectly healthy amount. I’m always available if you need to talk through a plot hole or need a quick beta read. I give really in depth critiques and constructive criticism, and I try to give the feedback that I would want to receive as a writer. I’m a big fan of comment sandwiches, I’ll tell you want works and what doesn’t and I’ll give you advice on what to do next. Don’t let the intimidate you though, I love, love, love encouraging other writers and helping them grow

The best way to contact me would be through discord and tumblr. Twitter works just as well, I just check it less often.

Cara - Lead Editor

Kay - Page Creator

Twitter: twitter.com/futuresounclear

Tumblr: fallenangels181.tumblr.com

Discord: DarkAngels181 #2821

YouTube: http://youtube.com/user/fallenangels181

Hello, the name’s Kay! I'm so happy to be a part of this zine! I am a writer and an AMV editor who is very invested in the Voltron and loves to see positivity for our beloved Paladins. I'm Shiro and Sheith trash, though I am a multishipper too. Please feel free to check out my channel or social media. I will respond as quickly as I can on twitter or Tumblr, so feel free to message me to just chat anytime! I look forward to working with everyone!

Jax - Lead Artist

Tumblr: flyingmintbunny32.tumblr.com

Instagram: instagram.com/jaxarts32/?r=sun1

My insta is also the best place to see my work as well

Ciao, Jax here and I'm one of the Lead Artists. I'm about as socially adept as Keith in real life but I tend to be easygoing online so feel free to chat with me. I do get distracted or off-topic easily but otherwise I'm pretty chill about most things, just respect me and I'll do the same with you. I'm also nonconforming so use whichever pronouns for me you'd like. Art wise I love drawing backgrounds and thighs mostly but I've definitely been trying to reach out more so if my art changes or looks different that's normal. Also I literally love all ships so if ya need to fangirl I'm your human.

Danu - Lead Artist

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/danuqq/

Tumblr: danuqq.tumblr.com

Art Tumblr: danuqqart.tumblr.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/danuqq?s=09

Hi, I'm Danu! I love cats and pastel things, I'm an artist but I'm still learning, so don't be afraid of sharing your WIPs with me, we're all friends here.

I'm gay for Allura and Pidge, but I love all my Voltron boys too .

If you want to contact me the best way of doing so is on Instagram or Tumblr, I don't really use Twitter but if you can't contact me in the first two socials go there, I'll try to check it once in a while.

Raven - Lead Artist

Tumblr: http://emptyfishtanks.tumblr.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/emptyfishtanks

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/fishtanksart/?hl=en

Hello! I am Raven/Mikey and I go by They/them! I am a digital art and animation student, and have been seriously doing art for about 3 years. My current occupation is being a student and doing art commissions. My favorite Voltron character is a tie between Pidge and Keith. I love talking to new people, and anyone can feel free to message me at my social media!I am looking forward to working with everyone on the zine!

[sethmnicholsengl1120-44]

SLO Reflections

SLO Reflections

1.     Rhetorical Situation and Genre

a.     We have analyzed many different genres already this semester. We began with story type genres like horror, comedy and thrillers with the first short stories. Then we continued to cover more business/document genres such as websites and license cards. Most of the genres were not chosen because had assigned them, however of the ones I chose they all had something to do with my future career field’s daily activities. I learned that on every single card that is used for medical marijuana use has certain elements that area always on it, even in different states.

b.     My favorite genre that I researched was the Horro-comedy mix. This is a relatively knew genre of movies that most reviewers, like rotten tomatoes, aren’t huge fans of. I watched and did a paper of the movie Zombieland which is one of the very popular ones. The reason I like this genre so much is because of the absolute absurdity of the movies due to the comedic aspects. Like one second the main character could be almost eaten by a zombie, then turns around, cracks a one-liner and the feeling of the scene is changed so drastically.

c.     Well my first writing assignment was a paper about Zombieland, showing the horro-comedy combo that is so special for the movie and how the convention breaking helps with that and then we created a field guide of different genres in our career field.

d.     One of the documents I wanted to explore but didn’t because each company keeps theirs private was that for ever type of marijuana grown by a dispensary has tons of paperwork that shows the terpene levels and based on those can help different people with different issues.

e.     Everything is extremely regulated due to the fact of legality when it comes to marijuana so conventions being broken are mostly illegal.

2.     Writing as a Social Act

a.     To me, writing as a social act is an extremely obvious idea. Whenever a writer creates any kind of writing piece, electronic or not, someone is going to read it, and for that fact it is a mode of transmitting information between said people. In English 1110 we focused more on what a Rhetorical Situation was than how it applies and connects to other people socially.

b.     Thinking about a marijuana dispensary as a discourse community, its genres are all about sales. Any kind of writing piece that is connected to a business focused on selling a product is either used to attract new customers, appreciate loyal customers or it is more for the business side and all of that documentation will only be seen by the government and/or law enforcement if necessary.

c.     Depending on your meaning of interacting with a published piece of literature, by reading it alone you are being communicated to by the said writer. Sharing the ideas of the actual piece with your friends is another way of interaction by bringing the ideas and thoughts from the written piece into real life. By writing about another piece of literature, you can either bring a fresh new perspective to a piece or make more people read/ think about it as well.

3.     Writing as a Process

a.     The SWA’s perfectly built up to the MWA by making me personally think about genres and about their conventions, including the breaking of said conventions. In SWA 1, we simply relearned about genres and their conventions and had to point them out. In SWA 2, we were given the task to give a short 250-word description of multiple written pieces in our future job field or desired field. The MWA combined those two ideas by having us choose one of the said genres from SWA 2 and create a paper about its uses, its conventions and how it breaks conventions compared to other pieces of the genre.

b.     The easiest part of the writing process for me is the writing of the paper itself. I love getting to use my voice to try and prove something because it is my perspective.  Researching for a project is stupidly stressful because of citations and respectable sources, brainstorming is super-fast and simple because we usually already have a purpose to the writing, revising and editing is a horrible process part that is super difficult because I wrote it and I understand everything and lastly, proofreading is just an extension of revising and it is just as boring/horrible. For MWA 2 which is a research paper, I’m if the researching aspect of the paper is going to be the longest part, especially because I will have to use UNM libraries for said topic. To streamline the process a little, I will try to start working on it as quickly as possible and spend multiple days on it.

c.     Peer reviewing and Instructor feedback are probably some of the most helpful feedback in the world because it can help you realize some things that made sense to the writer but nobody else, it can help you with any spelling/grammar mistakes that word and or the writer didn’t catch and it can help with simply making the paper have a better flow or framework.  Outside perspective is a serious help to a final draft, either by pointing out flaws or simply assisting with understanding. Nothing surprised me personally about the edits created to my paper, it was all about grammar and common-sense stuff that I simply didn’t understand or do.

4.     Grammar and Usage

a.     In SWA 1, there are many different grammatical errors and the organization is not extremely good. Many sentences are extremely choppy and have a lot of information in them that should have been made into longer, more clear sentences.  Also, the structure is extremely obvious and bland, I had to show two things and so I created 2 long paragraphs that proved my point and the arguments are all over the place. In SWA 2 I completely forgot to put intext citations for a few of my references. For example, I had the exact size of the average license card which is 3.375” by 2.125” and did not put the website or anything for the place I found that information at. In MWA 1, my only real issues brought up by my peers was the occasional wrong word or confusing sentence, but I also had an extreme number of the “/”. I meant to put the word procure in reference to getting a card, but I typed the word occur, which me and Word didn’t pick up. I used many slashes because when I first wrote it, I didn’t know if I should call them ID’s or Licenses, so I had both. My peers said that was dumb and I should call the Medical Marijuana license a license. In SWA 1, there was a very rushed and almost immature feel to it because I had not written in a long time, I feel that MWA 1 was much more professional and phrased much better.  

b.     The assignment that I am the proudest of in terms of organization would have to be my SWA 1. Even though I criticized it earlier, it is the simplest and still super effective compared to the SWA 2 and MWA 1. SWA 2 we were told how to format it as well because we were supposed to create the field guide and MWA 1 I just kind of followed the list of requirements order of needs in the paper, therefore the only one I really formatted was SWA 1. For all the journals I always organize them simply based on questions so I in no way am proud of that. One skill or technique that could strengthen my organization for next time are creating an outline before I write, which can show me a good order to write in. Then I can also look at other people’s papers that have been made for the same topic/ reason and then base my organization on theirs, not copy but simply be inspired by. I would have to cite any paper I used though for safety.

E. analyze and describe the value of incorporating various languages, dialects and registers in your own and others’ texts.

•       “Languages” does not necessarily have to mean French, Spanish, English, Bulgarian. This can also include other forms of English, whether it is academic styles of English or colloquial or slang forms.

•       I feel that in most pieces there can be a different kind of language depending on the pieces’ content itself. For example, In Zombieland which I looked at this in SWA 1 of MWA 1. The main character always talked about rules to keep you alive. The average person probably does not have to think about that and talk about “zombies” and an apocalypse.

•       There is an almost uncountable amount of words about marijuana and its legal purchasing that I have learned. The sizes when you purchase, legally or not, are basically the same. Done by using different amounts of a once, 28 grams, as increment sales like “an eighth” is 1/8th of one once which is 3.5g. There are also “3” strain types you can choose from. You can either have Sativa, a whole body high, Indica, with an intense head high that spreads to your body, or a hybrid which is a mix of the two. The part of the weed that gives it part of its taste is the terpenes and the THCA/THC % determines how expensive it will be.

•        I read 3 different academic journal/research studies and they gave me a small difficulty to read. Academic writing is always difficult to read, especially for me who is not the strongest reader. However, once you learn the words and ideas they are talking about and re-read it a couple of times than you can understand it and apply it to the real world.

•       Register is about the level of formality of your writing.  

•       I wrote in a high register for the research paper and for the formal academic paper about the medical cards and such. This was because high register speech is for more formal and professional writing. Obviously for my research paper I am trying to sound as smart and dignified as possible to hopefully create more credible speech. Then in the other pieces I needed to be formal as well but that was also because it was a very serious topic.

•       Any time we did a free write for the most part I would say, we did not do much of creative writing in the class so I would say for most assignments I wrote in more formal speech.

•       Writing in less formal or low register speech is easier because you can basically say whatever you want. You can be more creative, break rules of normal writing ideas to be even more creative and you can also be very funny which is hard when you must be professional.

F. evaluate your development as a writer over the course of the semester and describe how composing in multiple genres and mediums using various technologies can be applied in other contexts to advance your goals

·       Has writing in different genres helped you to become a stronger writer?  

·       I feel that whenever I write, and it is for project it always makes me improve. I always must prove a new point or use new sources to create an argument which makes me look for good, quality sources as well. I also receive feedback about my overall writing and the different aspects of it from my piers and from my teacher and that also helps me to expand my skill. I think my word choice has improved because I used to use a very small amount of word repeatedly and it made my writing seem very repetitive while making me seem a little unintelligent.

·       I feel that my best assignment was my argumentative research paper about the legalization of marijuana. I had multiple different strong arguments that showed that the legalization of weed would be helpful to more than just peoples direct health but also to that of people in jail and addicted to other more harmful opioids. I also showed the counter argument extremely fairly and then showed how it was also complete garbage. Those combined with a perfectly formula MLA format made that paper extremely strong and showing of how far my writing has come.

·       I will be using a multitude of genres in my future career, 100’s of pages is going to be processed by my business daily. The knowledge that I have learned about these genres is going to help me create extremely correct and well-made creations that will help attract business, help my employees to work effectively and keep me legally safe.

·       I have mastered the UNM libraries catalog search that helps me to find very reliable and correct sources that can help to assist me in many things, it will help me in my future English classes next semester and on, it will assist me in my future classes dealing with documents and genres in business and it will even be able to help me when I am simply looking at a pamphlet, seeing if it is worth of my gaze.

·       Absolutely, whenever I have a writing assignment due of any kind, I know that I will be able to complete it well. It will have perfect grammar, correct word count and an amazing piece with no plagiarism involved.

Research SLOs

 G. use writing and research as a means of discovery, to examine your personal beliefs in the context of multiple perspectives and to explore focused research questions through various mediums and technologies

  1.     What was your process for researching for your argumentative research paper? What role did technology play?

a.     It began with thinking of a topic in my field of interest. I personally wish to sell medical marijuana from a dispensary in the future, therefore I thought about the most popular topics about it. That in mind, I decided that the best topic I could choose would be the legal aspect because technically it is legal to smoke it in some states, but not in others or with special rules. I then went onto the UNM library website and I used the catalog search to find sources that backed my topic. This obviously was affected by my use of technology because I had to use a computer to find these sources. I used keywords and the advanced search and found 4 book/academic journals that backed up my claims. While doing the sources I also began on one of our journals in class which was a pre-draft intro/conclusion paragraph. Then the next class, I also had a small draft of two of the body paragraphs I would be using. These two pre-writes helped to create a well thought out and proofread paper. Once I had the 4 sources and multiple pre-draft paragraphs, I created the annotated bibliography with the MLA citation style for each source. They also had a small paragraph that described what it was and how it related to the topic I was trying to argue about. These all combined, I had enough evidence about my topic and about the counter/counter to the counter argument to create the paper. I began to create the first draft for my paper by combining the edited intro/conclusion I had turned in previously then added the edited body paragraphs. After that I began to create the counter argument and place all the paragraphs in order. I didn’t receive much student reviews back that had an issue with my paper, most were just grammatical issues which I fixed before creating the final paper.

2.     Did researching and addressing counterarguments make you think differently about your topic?

a.     Fortunately for me I have personal experience with the topic as I personally have experience in the field. I know that the medical benefits are extremely substantial and the fact that it is not legal astounds me. In my research, I read exactly what I was expecting to see. There are multiple health benefits and there are slight health deficits as well. However, they can be avoided by living a healthy lifestyle and by not abusing the product but unfortunately many possible deficits that could be caused by smoking are yet to be determined exactly. Fortunately, these studies also show how many false hoods, aka the counter argument, are proven as such by new studies. Many anti-drug posters and such over blow the damage on the lungs and a person’s overall health. My research on their origin of these came back from the “War on Drugs” with extremely overprotective laws created based on bogus studies.

3.     What questions do you still have about your argumentative research paper topic that require more research? In what ways did your paper serve as a springboard for further lines of inquiry?

a.     I want to investigate where new states are going to be legalizing the product soon because that would be the perfect opportunity to create a dispensary of my own. It’s kind of helps me to truly justify why I believe in the product that I want to sell in the future.

4.     Did you discover anything new about your personal beliefs through your writing this semester?

a.     I justified what I believed in and strengthened my idea of my future.

H. integrate others’ positions and perspectives into your writing ethically, appropriately, and effectively in various mediums and technologies

1.     Describe how you used outside ideas in your research paper or genre analyses?

a.     I used MLA format in order to show the sources that I referenced. This formatting is traditional of research paper and is in the 8th edition. I used studies that were done by professional labs with good merit and cited each one of the 5 labs involved. One super difficult part about the research process is that it is super hard to find the stuff that supports your topic sometimes. Especially when they are a weird type of text such as academic journal collection, but the online machines make it much easier. It is important to reference those who you got your information from because if you did not it would be counted as plagiarism and you could then be expelled from school as well as it would make all of the facts used seem untrue and not backed by actual sources.

2.     How did you incorporate other’s perspectives into your writing?  

a.     I used the perspective of multiple health agencies that all agreed on my exact topic. This gave me an extreme amount of ethos due to them being health professionals. I also used the real-life example of Portugal using its extreme “pro” drug policies which also gave me logos proving a side health benefit. Then I used the real-life example of the War on Drugs which gave me ethos from a large, important figure being the leader of untrue stance that won him office.  

3.     Besides citing your evidence to avoid plagiarism, what other purpose(s) does incorporating (and citing) outside sources serve? Think about the MWA #2 prompt here: “... you’re expected to build off the arguments of other experts and practice joining the conversation.”  

a.     Using other arguments as well as studies inside of your argument gives it a lot of strength. If professionals agree with you than you gain a lot of ethos, as well as “bandwagon”-ing if you have multiple supporting sources. Also, by citing them in your piece they also get the credit they deserve for their piece because using their material and not citing them isn’t just plagiarism, it’s rude.

I. Compose a research-based academic argument in one of various mediums and technologies by identifying, analyzing, evaluating, and synthesizing sources, which must include secondary sources

1.     How did you go about finding relevant sources for your paper?

a.     I used two places to look for sources, UNM libraries catalog search and Google. I simply used Google to go to YouTube so I could reference Ronald Reagan’s quote about Marijuana. I used library catalog search in order to find credible and reliable sources. These sources were the one by the National Academies of Science, and 4 more medical companies. Then I had the record and a journal of the Portugal’s policies decriminalizing all drugs and how it assisted majorly in addiction, death and arrest rates.  

2.     How did you evaluate your source?

a.     I knew that my sources would be of high quality and credible if they were from a catalog of academic and official documents like the UNM libraries. Looking at the people involved with the studies and the companies you can see their professionalism and correctness. Therefore, you can trust that source.  There was a source I used in the annotated bibliography that I didn’t use. It was a book that had a bunch of “pro” and “anti” marijuana points and how the “anti” were wrong. Unfortunately, it was only available as a real copy book and because I waited until the last possible second to rent it out, I couldn’t use it in my final version of the paper.  Dang coronavirus!

3.     How did you narrow down what information to include from your secondary sources?  

a.     I specifically looked for the important overall topics that helped to prove my point the best. I used rational to find inside the papers, books and journals on my topics and then took down the information that helped to support the topic I wanted.

4.     What sources did you end up using in your paper?

a.     I used multiple different kinds of sources. I used two academic journals, live footage, a record of a direct study taken in America and a record of Portugal laws. This helped to strengthen my argument because it shows that in multiple ways and multiple perspectives, my point is still true.

J. Analyze and describe the writing and research conventions of an academic field in order to understand the different ways of creating and communicating knowledge  

1.     Think back to Sequence 1. What did you learn about genres in your area of interest?

a.     In the medical marijuana field, the medical card is the most important document because that is how you are legally allowed to be there and purchase at all. Also, legal documents for the business itself including information about the multiple kinds of marijuana, concerning new client sign-ups and the menu for the items themselves. Well, if I was ever asked about the medical marijuana business, I could write about it for hours. I also could write about the wrongful War on Drugs and how it was not backed by true evidence and was even influenced by racist ideals. I could also write about academic journals and there very official structure. SO overall I would say it would heavily assist me in writing in multiple fields. Looking at a genre that breaks genre conventions shows that you can be not constrained when you are writing and create something that is completely individual. Due to the fact that writing in different genres is not only possible but considered creative makes me feel extremely confident when I am writing because it means that I can combine multiple ideas and different perspectives to try and make the best story or written piece possible.

2.     Now think about Sequence 2. What did you learn about research conventions in your area of interest?

a.     I was very invested in academic journals, official documents and real-life experiments supporting my argument. These would be typical when assessing the legality of a substance that is currently illegal. If there was a proposal to make it legal, which there is, studies being done currently can help to assist in that. However, I am assuming I will deal more with the Sequence 1 materials like the med card and menu then that of the journals I used for research. I learned that using official search catalogs like Gale in Context and UNM libraries personal one makes it extremely easy to locate extremely professional useful sources for a paper. I also learned the best way to cite sources is using machine and then the list at Purdue Owl’s example.

[topicprinter]

I launched Callstop (https://www.callstop.com/) on Hacker News and snagged the #3 spot yesterday afternoon. Here's how I did that and how I organized the post. Hopefully, this will be helpful to people who have thought about launching a startup on Hacker News.Here's the Hacker News thread for reference: https://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=22211791Problem: I set up the problem ahead of the rest of the post by briefly mentioning that about half of all phone traffic nowadays is spam. Mentioning the scale of the problem and giving some context means that even if readers aren't in your country where the problem is, they can follow along.Solution As An Analogy: I then created a good analogy so that people could understand what my startup does. Labeling my app as "Superhuman for your phone number" allowed people to understand the goal of the new product (increased productivity and organization) without having ever tried the product before. One user pointed out that analogy wouldn't work as a description in the long term, which I totally agree with, but it provided as easy way for people to get the idea up front. Most people on HN know what Superhuman is.Description of Features: I then listed each feature of my app in subsequent lines. I think you want to be concise with each feature, but make sure there's enough that there's no doubt as to what your product does. I tried to focus on emphasizing the ease of use portion, because in order to get actual downloads, people need to feel that your product is easy to use. It also has to be a certain degree better than current solutions, so listing out useful features that are going to separate you from current offerings on the market is key.At the end of the post I gave a brief summary of the general purpose of my startup, to keep readers from getting lost in the specifics of features and tie it back to a general purpose.Participate In The Discussion: This one is a no-brainer. There are a lot of people who are crazy smart on HN, and you should definitely respond to what they think and have a discussion.Based on this experience, if you've worked hard, never fall into the trap of fearing that your product isn't polished enough to launch. Each time you launch another iteration of the product, you'll get valuable feedback from people who want to use your product. You'll also get feedback like "I'd use your product if you added XYZ", and those are the types of requests that help you know what to build next. Earlier this week, I thought about waiting around until another set of updated, improved design screenshots came in before launching would be the best option--and now I'm very glad I didn't.I hope this is useful to other entrepreneurs out there who are thinking of launching on Hacker News. If others on here have insight or experience, I'd love to hear that as well.