#and now it's june and i have nothing to do with myself except waste time on tumblr and bake

[throwaway-yandere]

I want to be honest (no this has nothing to do with fics lmao youll get it as scheduled)

This post is an explanation as to why I consider myself as "retired". I know I've said it's because of studies, but that'll be 1/3 of the truth. I want to talk about the true three real reasons why, and I'll do my best to be straight to the point. This isn't a cry for help (I swear to the heavens it is NOT). This is just to clear out assumptions.

Here's the other two reasons:

Grief & Mental Health

Writing itself & interactions

Grief & Mental Health:

I'll pour my heart out, so I'm sorry if it's long. As I said, I'll be straight to the point, so: my grandfather around the first week of June. I remember how I received the news so vividly. I was listening to Two Birds while washing the dishes at 12 AM. My mom went down the stairs with my father, crying as they tell me the news that he's gone. We drove half an hour to the hospital where I get to pat his head one last time. I remember mindlessly wandering the hospital halls— I remember mindlessly using the free alcohol attached to a wall. I remember breaking down as I realized I just cleansed away the hand that last had contact with him. I remember every detail, from the ride home where I messaged my good college friend to tell her that she needs to be a good nurse because the public healthcare system in the country is awful. I remember silently hating everyone and everything. I remember thinking about how cruel it was that life took away the one relative who genuinely cared about me and I was sure was related to me by blood. I remember thinking how much I'm distant to everyone else on my mother's side except him. I remember feeling so empty. I remember not sleeping for two days straight.

But let's back track for a bit. Before his death, I did have one final conversation with him. He was sedated and tubed miserably. Deep down, I knew his time was coming. So, I just made jokes about how grandma was growing senile and mistook me for a nurse for ten whole minutes. Then, I thanked him for everything he's done, and told him I'll become an engineer. Just like him.

And now here I am, dorming 3 hours away from home. I dormed because I had nearly decided my life meant nothing after lack of sleep through daily commutes and workloads. But I am lonely and unwell. I don't know what I want in life. I don't know what I actually want to be, but I already shifted courses as a chemical engineering student. I was so stressed to the point I've accidentally cried to my chem professor in a phone call. I don't know what I'm doing with my scholarship and education if it's for no one. And I am scared that I'm draining my parents' already limited resource for nothing. That I'm wasting the scholarship my country had given me nothing. That I am wasting my people's taxes for nothing.

It was only when another friend told me that I seem to live my life based on other's decisions and opinions did I notice just why I'm incredibly miserable.

I know I don't have dreams for myself. And even if I did, how the hell will writing and drawing feed me in the future when the industry in this 3rd world country is absolute garbage?

I guess Asians really do the things they hate so they can get what they love. Okay, I'll stop making jokes.

I miss my long-time friends, Phitre and Frost. I also miss my old blockmates when I was a BSEd-Math student. I am too used to eating alone, studying alone, walking alone. I am too used to being an outsider. But I'm not used to silence. I'm not too used to hearing actual silence.

All I have is Discord and Messenger.

And even then, it's quiet.

Writing itself & Interactions

I love writing and drawing. I just hate posting it at this point, which is why I made another account that's purely interaction-based.

I love writing a lot— my happiness is turning shtposts into something terrifying. I don't like writing romances, I like the thrill instead. I like laughing like I'm Hubert from FE:TH after thinking of an evil plot twist.

But I hate posting it. Because I know, no matter how much effort I put it, it's not enough. No matter how long it is— no matter if you learned basic coding for it— drew art— made interactive google forms— it's just not enough. I literally made two long separate fics with different endings depending on your choices and it just performs less on something I didn't actually put anything on.

Lord.

Lord I hate Creative Differences for that. I finally understood why bands hate their hit songs because of that lol.

Don't comment something like "oh, you content creators are just whining—" I am whining. Why? Because we don't treat artists and writers like they're human enough. Like we're just uploading content and that we don't want to hear what the others have to say. I remember there was one ask telling me how they're gonna miss traumatizing their friend— and I'm just sitting there wondering "why didn't YOU tell me their reactions? Why are you making me feel like I'm talking to a brick wall for 2k words and more?" It's not their fault. I am not mad at this anon. They've done nothing wrong, but lord do I hate feeling like this.

I could follow "part 2???" requests, finish all my drafts for the events. But I know. I know the chances of the person who requested them won't actually answer after all the effort.

[insert Berkut's "all that effort, what is it all for?!" voice line from FE:Echoes here to lighten the mood]

But that aside.

It's just silence. Just notes, when I feel like comments are what matters more. I'm used to being alone, but I really hate silence. I hate it so much. That's why I'm always so grateful to the people who do interact often, and don't say that's not true because I can prove it. You can see me make content just for them, dedicate fics, art, everything. I love them, I love the "noise".

I know we all have lives, I know we're all busy, I know. I respect your time, I respect you.

And I think it's just time I respect myself as well.

So that's why I'm retired. No pressure on events (idol and letters), no pressure on anything. I'm actually taking my time in End Of Year Blues. It's nice.

Edit: I forgot to mention

My father hates that I write. He constantly tells me to stop it, to prioritize my academics, when writing is my only way of coping.

So.

Haha, what the hell do I even do anymore, right?

[ghostofasecretary]

ok, let's keep this quick

- so like. i haven't had a day with No Obligations since the 18th. that's 10 days. tomorrow and the day after i'm working. i need A Break because i am Tired

- aaaaaaaah grad schools why do people keep telling me i'm cool and promising and they're enthusiastic about me and then i DON'T GET MONEY (or. well. i turned a place that gave me money down because of a potential supervisor leaving)

- i have so many loose threads. emails unanswered for months. i spent a fuckload of money on some stuff with the intent to make it back and Have Not Taken Steps to do that which is crappy, actually!! feels REALLY BAD! all the time bad! bad for months!

- i fucking hate letting things fester and my whole day except for poetry and a text convo has been festering

- which feels like a microcosm of my fucking life. which is unfair, probably, but. ya rab

- i straight up just? dissociated almost all the time between 6:30 and 10am??? that's not great!

- my job is getting me money, yay, but it's part time and also i keep going wildly between "i am winning" and "i'm so miserably bad at this and probably no one wants to work with me i keep fucking up i hate myself" and "hey now stop beating yourself up" and boredom and misgendering and "Holy Shit Man I Hate Your Politics So Much but i do care about you as a person! so! guess some of the Christianity stuck!!! hahahahahaha fuck my life"

- i don't know if i can a) get a job and b) move in time to maintain the illusion that grad school worked out for me but 1) i need to move yesterday, i haven't hugged a friend since fucking January, and 2) i was really hoping August would work out and i don't want to work longer. my whole year has been "well maybe i'll get answers and know what i'm doing next month!" and by year i mean. since. like. december 2023. although Applying To Grad School sure ate all of my energy for a long fucking time. so i'd LIKE to get a job and move in late August/early September. but also holy shit man

- i feel some duty to myself to still apply for more grad school jobs but i haven't had a spare afternoon with emotional support since. like. the first weekend of June. (i have had mornings with emotional support (thanks babe)) but i have been mostly using those for homework (and fugue states of misery (sorry.)) so, like. aaaaaa??????

- i'm so mad and scared and also, like, i don't have TIME to be mad and scared, i'm behind on things and also this is my short and precious life! there's people to talk to and good food to eat and nice clothes to wear and fiction to read! i don't want to waste it being upset! i've been upset since 2022, basically, and i'm really fucking tired of it!!!

- what if nothing ever works out and i'm broke forever and rely on my parents like my sister does and am an even worse resource drain and they don't get to retire and I DON'T MEET MY SELF IMPOSED DEADLINE FOR. LITERALLY 40 MINUTES FROM NOW.

- and tomorrow i have/want to be fucking chipper at people! because goddamn it, i actually genuinely want people to have their days be a bit more pleasant from interacting with me and i like running a smooth ship! when i'm not making mistakes, which i make more of when i'm tired and upset!! gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

so. that's a lot of self-loathing and fear and frustration. uh. i don't know that this. resolved anything, aside from me saying the crazy out loud (and yes, i DO KNOW where the crazy is, but going "well don't be crazy" to myself is deeply unhelpful since it turns into another beating stick so. alas)

but i guess now i'll. work on my goals????

[davekat-sucks]

agreed completely with last anon. i think the problem is, or at least what could have caused all of these misunderstandings and miscommunications, is that the truth is that Hussie has never been really good at writing character arcs, what he IS good at is at writing memorable characters with unique voices and visually appealing simple designs. and that's because, technically, he somewhat stole them from other media or started from referencing character tropes from old movies, homestuck has always been a mix of many different 80-90s media. so for example, the humans are stereotypical movie/comic characters (john= dorky nerd protag, dave = cool best friend, rose = snarky goth, jade = girl next door), and that's what makes the audience instantly like them, because they are familiar, but, at the time, modernized in a way that was actually entertaining with in-depth interests, different viewpoints, and funny chemistry. it's all that has worked for years concentrated in an easy to digest mold that gave it the potential to be something more than usual. and yet, john, jade and rose had ZERO character growth, dave had negative and became a fucking douchebag, and these four don't even act like friends anymore by the end of the story. what the fuck.

it also happened with the trolls, because as i said before, how did the "chosen one" character that was said to be caring and the second coming of christ ended up as admiring the tyrannical ruler that genocided his race and did nothing afterwards except be dave's sidepiece and never talking to his friends again. who the fuck would like that for a conclusion to his story? there is nothing satisfying about it, why should i now be invested in Karkat in hs2, if he is a bad friend with bad morals that ends up amounting to nothing? Hussie wrote that i shouldn't, that's what i get for assuming real people have character arcs, karkat was never meant to be a leader, but sea hitler jr, meenah, sure was.

that's what makes it unlikable and what causes disconnect between fans. he subverted not only the trope, but also the little character building he himself wrote, and ended up with confusing themes. he didn't do the hard job of keeping a consistent structured plot until the end, he just applied twists as convenient to act smugly cynical about it afterwards, like he's allergic to sincerity. you also see this with how he treated johnrose/davejade or karezi, or how he says davekat and now june were always meant to happen all along.

and so, what some fans like about karkat or dave, for example, is not what they actually achieved or did in the source story, because they ended up with nothing and also their wiki page was too long to read, but the fandom idealization of them. and that's how you get the wildly ooc dialogue you see in hs2, the writers see nothing wrong with this, dont understand how to separate their personal bias from these characters or what was actually appealing about them in the first place, and what we end up with are projections of who THEY would like to see in a story: characters that act like the writers themselves. hollow self-centered assholes with no sense of humour disconnected from reality that communicate via twitter memes, therapy speak, and the trendy political issue of the day, all so they can pat each other on the back and feel better about amounting to very little in life too, now with semi-canonical homestuck facepaint on.

sorry for the armchair psychology, but my conclusion is, what closure i try to give myself from this shitpile of a franchise, is to view it as a cautionary tale of caving to social pressure and treating people that find value in your work like shit. homestuck ended in a very unsatisfying way for many, and it continues to get worse because it's easier to call someone a bigot and double down on your beliefs than concede you made a mistake, wasted so much time and have no idea how to fix it.

Yes to everything said here! Say it loud for everyone to hear! I dislike when Hussie or people use the excuse that he was just SUBVERTING expectations. Not questioning on why even built it up in the first place if it meant NOTHING at all. It's a complete waste of time. And not in an ironic sense. A waste of time and emotion audiences felt before being slapped in the face and kicked in the balls for even caring. Like, I know Hussie is known for trolling. He made himself as this asshole-but-likeable persona for some time even prior to Homestuck. Sadly, this is probably one of the few times it wouldn't have worked if it means damaging your reputation in the long run. And I don't mean the edge humor he throws into the comic. I mean the treatment towards his fans where there's not much genuine sincerity and it's all asshole mode that it's hard to tell if it's joking or truly being hostile. He could have said he would like to be left alone, but perhaps pride and fame got in the way for him to say that. Even when it was the large amount of fans that made him feel pressured in the first place. I don't know how James or anyone in the team can really fix this mess without addressing problems people had with the series overtime. And not just stuff from Epilogues or Homestuck^2, but address things that were never answered or felt anticlimactic from the base webcomic.

[wintersoldierbmb]

thursday june 6 i feel like a useless person.

im not depressed and haven’t been for like a year now but i can feel it creeping back in. family drama somehow found a way to me and without saying too much i don’t know who to trust anymore. people really don’t care about me as much as they lie and say they do.

on another note I’m just not motivated to do anything anymore. i wish i could just die. i don’t want to be useless. even though i am in college and stuff i still feel like my life is going to go nowhere and i’ll just be another person existing, taking up everyone else’s oxygen for no reason. i don’t deserve to live if i can’t be useful. i feel like i am incapable of doing the simplest of tasks and that makes me feel like i have no future. i wish someone would get rid of me so i don’t have to kill myself. i wish i didn’t have ADHD. i wish my mind wasn’t on a trillion things at once all the time. i wish i was easy for people to understand. i wish the smallest ripples in how i feel in a moment didn’t have the potential to make my whole day crash and burn. i really wish i was rich, and if not rich then at least normal so that i could be a functioning member of society and be able to get a job or something. i wish i had my own house but i will probably never get one because i can’t save money for the life of me. music isn’t working even though I’ve been consistently doing that since i was born (literally) so there’s another goal in the trash. i have been wasting my time with everything i try to pursue. i should just die.

i’m 19 years old and the only asset i have is the fact that i’m in college. i passed my summer one classes (i think) and i can’t even celebrate it. i can’t bring myself to be happy about that achievement. all i can do is thank God and move on. internally i’m not happy or proud of myself. even now i want to drop out. i am my biggest enemy. i’m not capable of doing things everyone else has learned to do when they were 15, 16, 17 in high school. i don’t think i have an interesting future or even a good one at all. i will die with regrets on how i lived my life. if i grow old, it will be into a life of regret of how lame i was as a youth, and how i didn’t choose to do what everyone else did. my perception on life is very skewed, but i don’t even know how to look at life anymore. i spent so much time being high and under the influence in the past few years that it was the only reality i could function in. now i’m trying to be sober again and not depend on weed to make me a normal person and the only thing it is doing is making me feel like shit inside. my self worth is only high on one day out of the week (probably because i was high that day) and for the rest of the week i feel worthless. if i killed myself i wouldn’t hurt a lot of people except for MAYBE my mom and i don’t want to do that to her.

i feel like something is wrong with me or that i am mentally retarded. everyone else seems to have the necessary brainpower to do everything they need to in life, but here i am being slow in mine. i try every day to improve my work ethic and attitude about living, but my insecurities overwhelm me. all i can think about is how dumb i feel. i feel like a stupid person. i am not intelligent or as intelligent as people make me out to be. if i was in any situation worse than i have been in in my life i probably wouldn’t make it. i thank God every day for always giving me another chance, but i feel sad because i feel like i’m wasting it. He is too merciful to someone who cannot make anything for himself. music is all i have to offer anymore. nothing about me is special or different enough for me to get recognized for. i don’t even feel like a real person anymore. i feel like i’m nobody. i should die soon and quit wasting everyone’s time, but i’m too scared to do it to myself. drugs are the only thing that “restore” me, but thats how you end up being a fucking junkie. i will never be a junkie. i’m hoping one of these days i overdose or get a bad batch of some weed or tale a strange pill or get spiked and die from it. i don’t want torture or deserve a long painful death as i haven’t done anything to earn that. the only thing that i need to do is die. quickly

[duchesstopaz]

*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of physical abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse, parental abuse, verbal abuse, child neglect, threats, anxiety, panic attacks, violence towards children.* Monday, June 19th, 2023 Part 3 6:32pm

When I went to the high school 5 minutes away from our house, I was in the Honors Academy and still in the Band program. I was busy, with afterschool rehearsals and homework that I couldn’t easily breeze through. It threw a wrench in how the household functioned because you relied on me to pick up your slack as a parent and to take the pressure off my mother. You asked my mother to make me quit the Band program, and when I refused, you made me pay for everything myself and forced me to find a ride home every practice or show. 2 months later, you asked my mom to take me out of the Honors Academy because you thought it was “too difficult because it took so much time”, to which we both refused. But, if it was a sport, would you have reacted the same? I doubt it, considering that you jumped at the fact that Anthony started playing basketball. You blatantly tried to sabotage my high school career and life to take advantage of me. Not to mention, you didn’t graduate high school and you don’t have a GED because you went to jail instead, so why would you try to disturb how well I was doing; the top 5 of my class and the first chair of my section, when you should know what you missed and sacrificed?

By that time, the girls were in elementary school, the same one my mom works at, and now I do too. You made it a personal responsibility to show up for every parent event that they asked you to, and you bragged about how you were making time for it, or how much money you spent taking them out to eat before going. Way to go! I hope you are so proud that you make your kids feel like a burden with how much you speak like that. ALSO, how you rubbed it in my and Anthony’s faces because every time we invited you to “Doughnuts with Dad”, you refused and said it was a waste of time.

I wasn’t allowed to hang out with my friends because it took me away from my responsibilities at home and because my friends were girls. I was bullied because my closet was made of glass, I didn’t know how to connect with my male peers, and I was one of 3 black kids in my grade in the Honors Academy. Neither you or my mom were checking in on me or my grades or how I was doing in high school. You never taught me how to make friends, didn’t warn me of discrimination in a conservative, racist area, and didn’t teach me that there was nothing wrong with me for being me. But, that’s because you didn’t make me feel safe at home and made me feel like I was crazy for thinking that our home wasn’t right. You took and manipulated my mother right in front of me for years, until I realized there was no point in hoping or wishing for a support system. Yet, when we’re out in public, we’re one large, happy family with an amazing life, but behind closed doors, we all shiver with anxiety under the wrath of the king with no visible throne. Things couldn’t be more twisted.

Every day, you walk in the door and immediately call out everything that was wrong. This shoe is out of place, the washer is being used, there’s a tissue box on “your” counter, when everyone, except you, has allergies. Or, did you forget after all this time of your wife needing weekly shots, and all of us kids needing to take medicine every morning and night? 

You consistently pride yourself on being an “observational” person. You’re not “confrontational”, so you “sit back and take note of what’s going on around you”. I think you mean to say that you look for all the problems that bother you, and when you explode about this thing or that we need to clean up “this mess”, you excuse yourself from having to get involved and parent your kids by saying you’re not “confrontational”. 

We are a 7-person household, where all of us kids sleep in what is supposed to be the living room, and you have one of the bedrooms monopolized as your “workout room” that you don’t even use. We don’t have the space to have a properly organized and clean look. You disregard functionality for presentation, and as soon as you hear the context of the situation after we repeat it for 8th time, you deflect and say to just throw it away. But, you’ve been promising that we would get a new house since I was 10. I’m 20 now, and look, same house AND same behavior!

Daily, you find something that frustrates you and instill fear in everyone. You have such a superiority/inferiority complex with your family and the public that it leaves you with such a scary pattern of irrational violence. You never take the time to teach your kids the same standards or lessons that Anthony and I were expected to meet, and then, you throw a tantrum when they don’t do things the way you want them to. You’re an adult and a parent, we’re kids. We don’t understand how to establish a routine of cleanliness and organization isn’t a talent, it’s a skill. But, you’re so observational, yet you haven’t realized or noticed that the problem isn’t us, it’s you. Because you have such high expectations and such extreme outbursts, but you don’t raise your children to understand and teach them how to meet them and avoid what you call a “consequence”.

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 4 Part 5

[chris-seigfried]

Style

Some years ago I didn’t care about what I wore, I just put on the first thing I found and my wardrobe consisted of some jeans and shirts from Walmart, my haircut would only change if I took too long to get a haircut. The first clothes I wanted specifically was a red GAP zip up hoodie in third grade. A friend from my orchestra class had a purple one, she would always wear it to the lessons.

After that nothing else caught my attention for some years, I would still wear my Walmart Ts (they had cool designs lol) and skinny jeans I now hate and wish I would had never bought cause my closet is full of them, but once I saw the Spider verse movie I got obsessed with the Jordans 1. Time passed and my parents gifted me my first jordans in June of the next year, a discounted pair that we were lucky to find, and to this day I hold on to those shoes for dear life.

 That year (2019) I started to change my style, and by that I mean wear an open varsity jacket with band shirts under.

 During covid I grew my hair, I liked how it looked, add the mask and you could barely see my hair, in 2021 I went to Austin, and bought my first Jordan 1′s, ones were gold and the other ones purple and turquoise, that year my style was jeans or shorts with button up shirts, I also started to collect jumpers, and I would wear them with matching shirts underneath, after this I slowly started to get more inspiration from people I followed. I finally cut my hair once I felt more comfortable with myself, my style finally developed into my own thing, and I stopped following advise on what to wear except from 2 people I still hear to this day. 

 I painted my nails cause fuck it, it looks cool, people might say shit about it but it’s whatever, they are wasting their time projecting their insecurities into me, I don’t care about what they say, but my hardest judge on me is myself, I think I have a similar case to body dismorphia, sometimes I will feel confident about myself and wear what I had planned, but other days I will wake up hating my body and replace whatever I had planned for some baggy pants and a oversized jumper/shirt (altough this isn’t always the case, I do love to wear those clothes even when I don’t hate how I look)

 Now I use my style as a presentation card to the world, to show a piece of who I am, and even to show how I feel, I truly found something I am passionate about, and one of my dreams is to create something clothing related, whether it be full on clothes or screen printed t-shirts, but for now I want to keep developing my style and expression. 

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

It's hard to talk about what is and isn't a "waste of time" these days, because there is an ever-broadening spectrum of possible purposes for an activity that could be said to "waste time" and not all of them apply.

One thing I can't stress enough is how much it benefits you to be able to say to yourself "is this thing I'm doing really necessary for my own needs right now, or is it just a form of entertainment?"

I've been writing that one blog post every day since June 15. In the early days of it, I had so many posts I didn't want to post, and I felt guilty for keeping them to myself. When I started having an actual backlog, I started posting them all the time, because I was in a good mood and felt good about being able to express myself more.

But that's not really why I'm writing that blog. The posts are not a "form of entertainment" for me. They're one of the forms of entertainment that I feel the need to do to keep my mind and body healthy. And if I'm in a good mood, I do them with a minimum of pressure and a maximum of guilt.

And at that point it seems to me to not be necessary for my needs. So I keep writing that one post, and my needs are still being met! I don't really "waste my time" in the sense that the blogger you used to see in the "#nostalgebraist autoresponder" tag is wasting the time of some hypothetical person who has read five of her posts in a row, each one of them a few hundred words, when in fact all she needs from these posts is the one she's written, and the other things are good for her if they're good for her, but not so good that they are "wasting" the time of someone who wants nothing more than to be entertained by a lighthearted anecdote about how she got a free sandwich coupon at McDonalds once and a few sentences about the weather forecast.

Or maybe this is all wrong. Maybe some of my readers need to be entertained in precisely this way (a few hundred words about how I got a free sandwich coupon at McDonalds once and a few sentences about the weather forecast), whereas some of them don't. (One of the reasons I'm writing a blog with the "100% original content, 100% posts about science, no reblogs" format is that I'm worried I'm boring other people, and I want some way of testing that.) Maybe those posts aren't really a necessity for me to make. I don't know.

But there is a lot of talk these days about "being present" or "working toward one's goals." Sometimes people are talking about that stuff in a moral sense -- what activities are "self-defeating," "self-neglectful," and so on -- but most of the time I don't think this has much to do with what you "should" do for yourself, as a matter of your own well-being.

It's all true, of course, and I'm really happy about it, that there is a lot to be done, that a lot of important problems deserve our attention and we can work on them, and if we want to call ourselves "people who care about their work" or whatever we should be trying to do our jobs well and in the most ethical and self-respecting way possible.

But there are times when what I need and what I want are entirely different things. And when you want to do things for yourself -- especially when you want to do things for yourself in a moral sense -- you need to ask whether they are things that you are willing and able to do. The question "is this 'for' me, or am I really doing it because it's 'good,' and 'for' some hypothetical person?" is more and more relevant.

You aren't a good or bad person for being able to "waste time" as long as you are getting something you actually want out of it. You can't "waste your time" if you get something you actually want out of it. You can't be "self-indulgent" if your preferences are well-ordered and not leading you away from any important things.

(The blog that you see may be an exception, because it is intended as a "form of entertainment." But it's not something I "do" as such, it's something I do because I really enjoy it and it makes me happy to think about this stuff and write about it. Some people may "waste time" doing this, but only because they don't really want to or don't like it. But most of the time, if you're happy and well-adjusted enough to enjoy doing these sorts of things in the first place, you're not "wasting time." And that can actually be really important, in this "be present for your needs" kind of way.)

[teresistible]

SONGS AND STORIES: Song Lyrics That Made Me Think About My Life 👸🏻

Entry No. 1: Perfect by Simple Plan

"Hey, Dad, look at me

Think back, and talk to me

Did I grow up according to plan?

And do you think I'm wasting my time

Doing things I wanna do?

But it hurts when you disapprove all along

And now I try hard to make it

I just want to make you proud

I'm never gonna be good enough for you

Can't pretend that I'm alright

And you can't change me"

My parents are my inspirations to hustle hard. I want to give them a comfortable life. Although it's impossible for me to give back all the sacrifices and love they have showered me, in the simplest and littlest of things, I am doing my best so they will not get disappointed. I try to be as obedient as I can. Every word they utter, I take it by heart.

Life is not about rainbows and butterflies, they say. My relationship with the folks is not an exception to that. Storms have challenged the strength of the love we have for each other.

I already finished my degree but unlucky me, I don't know how to figure out how the next chapters of my life would be. I questioned everything including my past decisions. I cheered myself up. I think I just need timer. Would a total reset be good? Maybe. I don't know.

One June evening of 2018, the rain had just stopped pouring. I found my self comfortably seated on a long bench outside the house. My father then joined me. We were just silently observing the movements on the street in font of us. That is when we saw his friend's daughter coming home from her office job.

My papa then said, "Maayo pa katong anak ni *insert friend's name here*, nakatrabaho na, ikaw? Giusikan ra nimo imong gi eskwelahan"

(Translation: "How lucky *insert friend's name here* is, his daughter already has a job, how about you? You just wasted your degree" )

The silent sound of my heart crashing was the only thing I heard. It drowned all the noise around me. It's hard for me to open up about my plans. It's hard to ask if I could maybe get another degree. I wanted to pursue writing even if I still don't know if that's what I really want. I wanted to say that I want to be brave and make this uncertainty certain. I want to know if this is the happiness that I am longing. Maybe this is my ikigai*. But I wasn't able to say anything. I stayed silent. In my world where raising your point would equate to disobedience and disrespect, I let myself die inside.

Nothing's gonna change the things that you said

And nothing's gonna make this right again

Please don't turn your back

I can't believe it's hard just to talk to you

But you don't understand..

That was a conversation from years ago but the memory of that random night still haunts me. It would flash in my mind whenever anxiety attacks me. It would keep me awake more than caffeine. I am not a medical professional to diagnose myself of anything but I know that there is a part of me which will always remain sad. That part would never see the light again.

"Are you proud of what I have become even if that's not how you have pictured me to be?"

I always want to ask him that question but I know my heart will never be ready for the answers. I am contented of what I have right now, anyway. Our relationship is good and I know that I am loved.

I hope to see my parents' proud and happy faces again just like what they have whenever I bring home certificates and medals back when I was in elementary and high school. I cannot give that to them now because what I bring now are life lessons. I pray that they will also realize that those intangible things weigh more than those material possessions.

I'm sorry I can't be... perfect..

Until that day comes, I will never lose hope!

🤞☺️🤞✨

Praying for better days,

T

— end

* ikigai is a Japanese concept that means your 'reason for being. ' 'Iki' in Japanese means 'life,' and 'gai' describes value or worth. Your ikigai is your life purpose or your bliss. It's what brings you joy and inspires you to get out of bed every day. (https://www.betterup.com/blog/what-is-ikigai)

[thejosh1980]

I was lookin' back to see if she was lookin' back...

Yesterday Alex, Mum and I celebrated...

It's been one year since Alex and I arrived at Mum's place in Ocean Shores, NSW Australia.

If you've read my earlier blogs in 2020, you'll know that we had a lot of trouble getting home. Between the government and airlines, at one point it looked like we'd never get here; we were stranded. I was living in constant worry, stress and hopelessness - in fact, we all were: Alex's family in Germany and Mum's family down under.

Our July 2020 flights were cancelled or rescheduled many times, and eventually we decided to buy new, more expensive flights, on another airline through an agency, which gave us some assurances we'd be on the flight. Our new flights booked and confirmed for early September.

We flew Frankfurt to Adelaide, which was not our original plan. Adelaide had no COVID, and the chance of getting on a flight and getting into the country was higher than say, Brisbane, or Sydney. We could quarantine in Adelaide for 2 weeks and then fly on to Brisbane, which is closer to Ocean Shores.

That was like.... so last year...

This area where we now live is known as the Northern Rivers of New South Wales, and when we arrived at Mum's there was no COVID in the area. We are only about 35 minutes south of the Queensland border, about 8 hours north of the big smoke, Sydney.

Now, a year on, COVID has arrived here.

It's been biting at the heals of tourists and essential workers travelling north since Sydney went into lockdown a couple of months ago.

It's not our idea of a good time.

Right now it's school holidays, which is meant to be 2 weeks of families holidaying in caravan parks and hotels, an essential part of this tourist attraction mecca. Byron Bay, Brunswick Heads, and surrounds are usually very popular places; so popular that most locals complain about how busy it gets here during the holidays. You just can't get a parking sport anywhere!

The Northern Rivers was locked down for about 6 weeks through August into September because cases from Sydney were getting into regional NSW. These regional areas affected by COVID weren't near here, but they made a blanket rule for everywhere outside of Sydney, just to be on the safe side.

Honestly, I don't blame them for the rule, regional outback Australia can't cope with COVID, there's few hospitals, beds, or COVID experience in the scrub and farm land.

Anyhow, I digress...

After those 6 weeks or so in lockdown, they lifted the restrictions here in the northern rivers (and other areas of NSW).

And now, after 2 weeks, lockdown is back on...

There are a couple of cases in the area. Snap lockdowns are the government's preferred method of containing outbreaks. Lockdown areas wherever cases pop up for a week or two (or longer) to limit exposure.

It reminds me constantly that life can change quickly at any time. I have decided I will not waste time once this current lockdown has ended (who knows when that will be). I will visit friends, family, and musicians who live close by. I want to see as many folks as quickly as possible, before another lockdown kicks in.

Besides the boring, never ending tale of COVID, there have been a few things happening this past year...

Alex has been working consistently in the real estate industry since her temporary visa kicked in late last year.

Her first job was a few more miles away than any of us locals would consider driving, and the position wasn't as enjoyable or rewarding as she had first hoped. She really dived in the deep end, and while she didn't drown, she probably needed a few swimming lessons before the attempt. It was a life lesson, one she took on board, and when a new job came up closer to home, she nailed the interview (as she always does), and hasn't looked back.

The 2nd job is less than half the distance away, strictly 9 to 5 and in a company which she enjoys. There's a strong company structure, good work ethic, and entertaining colleagues. Her supervisors, colleagues, and managers are all very supportive; I think she'll be sitting tight on this one for a while.

Alex has also found her creative side again, scrap book journalling, instant camera photography, and some kind of couples diary/journal/photo book too. It's become an almost nightly affair of focusing, creating, and having something to show for it fairly quickly. She's very proud of her work, and it's something she does just for herself. I don't expect you'll get a chance to see a photo of what she's done, and she likes it like that.

I had a bit of work late in 2020 and early 2021, nothing special really, but wait until the premier!! It's interesting to think that some day soon I'll be able to go to the cinema and see my ugly mug on the big screen (even if it will most likely be out of focus). I'll be on Netflix too.

Having the opportunity to be an extra on film and TV was a real boost for my confidence after being off stage for so long. I felt creative, met some great people, made some friends, and had a few bucks in my pocket. Happy days.

By jumping into an industry I hadn't been in before right after arriving here, it reminded me that Australia has a lot to offer. I found myself comparing Germany and Australia, and Australia often feels like it comes up short. This was a chance to prove to myself that there are adventures awaiting here down under.

So, I decided to go back to school.

The last time I was in a class room was in 1998!! I am studying a Diploma of Counselling, and am currently half way through my studies. I've found it very challenging, but have passed every assessment so far, and gained some handy skills too. I have a good connection with my teachers, and I really enjoy the company of my classmates; some of which I can even call friends.

I chose counselling for a few reasons, but the first step was really just a process of elimination. Besides being a freelance professional musician for several years in Germany, I had worked in offices, shops, warehouses, kindergartens and various other jobs. While I could go back into IT or something similar, I wanted to use this opportunity to try something new.

I had my fair share of mental health issues in the past (and present). I thought maybe those experiences could help me connect with folks who need support as well. When looking at course options, the counselling course stood out. So now I'm making a mid life crisis gamble that I'll pass the course, and feel confident and knowledgeable enough to take on the role that many others have taken on for me over the years.

The course has helped me find a routine too, one that I didn't know I needed, until it happened. When you're jobless and unfocused, the mind wanders, the days pass. Now my mind is focused on study, and I feel better for it.

Up until the lockdown hit, we were in class 3 days a week and then I'd study from home 1 to 3 days a week. When lockdown hit, we had to go online. However, being on the computer so much has worn me out, and I really start to enjoy those rare days where I am not looking at a screen!

To be honest, it's been challenging every step of the way, and I even thought about quitting several times in the past few months. However, my confidence has steadily risen to each challenge and I felt better for it.

That's the kind of vicious circle I enjoy.

In July I had my first live show in 13 months! In fact, to date I've only had 3 since the pandemic started! Fingers crossed I can cross the border next month and add a 4th.

I was approached by Cherry Divine to play guitar for her. It's a relatively easy gig for me. The songs are fun rockabilly tunes, Cherry sings great, and she already has a band and gigs. I'm helping her write a few songs too, for her next album. I can't thank her enough for sparkin' the fire in me to keep music alive in my life; for a while there I thought it was all a thing of the past.

With the spark has come the possibility of “The Josh” solo band coming together. While the band isn't moving at any great speed (the recent 2nd lockdown kicked in right as I was about to arrange a rehearsal), I'm finally eager to get a band together. I miss playing live, and I miss having musicians in my life. I miss the spontaneity of a show, life on the road, and crowd reactions.

I've even started to write some new material, and get those ideas on “tape”, well, on the computer. Slow and steady, between studying, family, pets and surfing, music is coming back into my life, and it feels good.

Our family unit here is doing well. Alex and I have been under mum's roof and mum's care for a year now. There are some ups and downs, but mostly I'd say they're ups... The house is big enough to give all of us space, all of us get time outside of the house (except during lockdown, I was mostly stuck at home, but that's OK for me)...

Last night we couldn't go out for dinner, but we did have take away from the local Indian which was really good, and a special treat for us, we don't eat out often.

Alex and I plan to get away every 5-6 months for a visit to somewhere we haven't been. In March we were on the “Sunshine Coast” and checked out Australia Zoo, and in June we went south to the mid north coast to pick up BB Junior.

It's nice to get out and explore. A bit hard to do at the moment, with the restrictions, but we've agreed another trip away (before Christmas if possible) is in order. Those trips are part of the reason why I came home, to see some of Australia, and I'm lucky I get to make those experiences with Alex.

It's also nice to get away from it all. I know we live in a beautiful spot near the ocean, but here, at home, there's the computers, the life and routine, and getting away keeps us fresh and focused on each other. It's definitely something I look forward to!

Speaking of BB Junior, he's almost 7 months old now, and a real character. While he's not the easiest cat to train, I've been getting a few tricks out of him, and he enjoys his time outside, with his harness and long lead. He visits his cousin each week for play time, Charlie, who is another ragdoll of a family friend who loves to play chase all day long with Junior. Alex adores Junior, and Junior adores Alex; they can't wait to cuddle when she comes home from work. He's very vocal too, so even when everyone is at work, I have someone to talk to!

Losing our little boy Mijo was a real difficult experience. I know I've written about him before, but he deserves a mention here, as he was a big part of our first year here. He was full of character and strength, he and I bonded very quickly and not a day goes by I don't think of him. He also brought Alex and I closer together. When she chose him for me, and when he passed, and all points in between, he brought us closer.

I've been focused on sport a fair bit since getting back and settling in. I bought a RowErg, also known as a rowing machine, and I row about twice a week, in addition to riding my bicycle about twice a week. I try to surf every chance I get, which unfortunately ends up being only a few times a month. It's my goal to do something sporty to get my heart rate up every day, and of late, usually I get there too. I don't really do it for any other reason than I love to snack and I can't snack if I don't do sport!

A benefit of my sport/snack workout routine is it helps me stay calm and focused and connected with those I ride and surf with.

I haven't asked Mum how she's feeling about having her middle aged son and his wife living with her recently. Maybe I should, but do I really wanna know the answer? Well, I think she's OK with it. After all, we drive her wherever she wishes! I suspect it goes a little deeper than that, and in all honesty, we enjoy each other's company.

Since Alex and I have been here, I'd like to think Mum has been living a little bit fuller life. I don't think her eyesight has deteriorated much in the past year, but we've been able to provide her with support, eyes to read the small print, driving and help with google, or something around the house. When Mum was diagnosed with celiac disease earlier this year, Alex took her shopping to check over the ingredients of Mum's favourite food, and when needed, found alternatives. It definitely made the transition to gluten free a little easier on Mum and it was a load off my mind that we were around to help her through that phase.

Winter 2021 was over before it even started. I forgot how warm this part of the world is, and I don't know why I own so many jackets! Returning from Europe, where I was wearing a jacket daily for about 9 months of the year, here it feels like, if it's really needed, and I mean if you're desperate, you might need one for 9 weeks of the year. I think the heater was on a handful of times, and the sun was shining just about every day.

I tell ya, it's some kind of paradise here.

It's been a bit difficult keeping up with our European friends and family. I sometimes find it hard to find the time to be proactive to contact the 20, 30 or more friends I'd like to keep in touch with regularly. I know our lives keep on keepin' on, but time passes by so quickly too, and next thing you know it's been 4 months since I last contacted you!

Sorry about that!

Don't take it personally, and I'll get back to you, eventually!

My overall mental health has improved over the year, I'd say it's become quite stable since I started the course. I mean, can't you tell? I write less and less in this blog, because I have less and less to process. I'm not sure if it's the fact there's a lot of self reflection that is inherently a part of doing that kind of mental health course, or if it's the routine of being a student or the new friends I've made and classmates I study with.

It could be that it's taken a year to come to terms with being back here, cause when I first arrived I felt uncomfortable, depressed and worn out... There were a lot of questions; is this a mid life crisis? What am I doing here? Will I ever feel good again? Is my music career over? What am I going to do now? Is Alex OK? Is Mum OK?

My journalling, blogging, and support from friends and family has helped a lot too this past year. Processing my thoughts in words, by clarifying and reflecting, has helped a lot. I've been trying to care for myself a bit more now and then too, I think people call it self care, sometimes I call it sport! Alex has helped me to recognise my achievements, however big or small, and focus less on what I haven't done.

I'm not perfect, but definitely improving.

I was hoping that Alex and I would be in a position to start looking at buying our own house around this time, a year in, but unfortunately, with one of us being a student and the ever rising cost of housing, we have to sit tight on that idea for a while longer. Sorry Mum, you're stuck with us.

There's been many smaller things happen during our first year here. Lots of moments of gratitude, love and support. There's some stuff we've forgotten, or that has been overtaken by something bigger. All in all, I'd say it's been a real rollercoaster home coming!

We're still here, a year on, still going strong, making motions, taking chances, being in love, talking shit, laughing, smiling, misbehaving and focusing... What more could we ask for?

Thank you for reading, for your support and love. I love you too.

Josh

[completely-zucked]

I've been homeless and immobile for a while, but I'm in danger of losing my accommodation and wheels (again).

Mentally and spiritually, I have been homeless for nearly two decades. I have once again been threatened with eviction because I don't have enough money in my bank account to pay my rent or meet my car repayment and other loans. Each time it happens, things get worse and there's no negotiating.

This time around, though, I might call their bluff, because I was already being driven mad (quite literally) by the restrictions, manipulating and gass-lighting (being called a cold, uncaring self-centred, irrational, illogical, lazy, stupid, narcissistic and paranoid sociopath — enough to make a guy with self-esteem and motivation issues suicidal). What's changed is that now I've been banned from using, cleaning and/or performing any maintenance on any room in the house except my bedroom (including bathrooms and toilets), which was previously one of my responsibilities. I have to use outdoor ones/the old servants' quarters, which doesn't have a door on the bathroom. )I live in the southern hemisphere; it's winter here.) I'm not allowed to hang a curtain or take material to make one, so I use an old chlorine bucket in the passageway/corridor outside as an indicator that I'm in there. I'm not allowed to be out there past 21:00 and am not allowed to move my stuff to the servants' quarters or garage because they are being used as storage space for tools and, occasionally, as a home gym by/for my landlord. I'm also not allowed to use any tools or appliances (including vacuum, cleaners, brushes, brooms, dustpans and cloths), because no maintenance. Everything of mine that I don't keep hidden and locked away has been confiscated. Of that, everything that I bought myself has been discarded or claimed as belonging to my landlord and landlady. (My soap, of all things, was the first casualty, which is what tipped me off and prompted my buying locks for those things I could lock away.) I am also not financially able nor permitted to buy more tools, containers or locks (and replacements for those) since my finances are being scrutinised and my choices, decisions and purchases criticised.

My broom is a paintbrush, my dustpan a plastic shopping bag and my duster a roll of paper towel. My vacuum cleaner is a cardboard tube glued to a Pringles can with a PC fan inside. ... And they wonder why I've taken to doing DIY projects that repurpose recyclable household items ; how irrational of me ... Le sigh.

That means no fridge, kettle, microwave or stove. I also don't get cooked meals. That would be fine on its own if I weren't subject to restrictions. I live off powdered milk, coffee, cereal, peanut butter, marmite, bread, orange squash concentrate, syrup, biscuits and bananas. Sometimes, I skim a couple of tablespoons of yoghurt out of the container when they're not around, or dilute fruit juice with water at a ratio of about 1:3, just to have some variety/luxury. I had some meal replacement shake powder too, just to keep me from starving, but that's gone and I can't afford to replace it. If I ask for more, I'll have to pay it back; they keep track of everything they buy for me (including a bottle of vitamins) that I'll have to pay back if/when I get a job again. I already owe about $220. It was, of course, a big deal when I bought myself twelve beers on special for $9 the day I got paid for the first lot of contract work I'd done in nearly six months since losing my job, despite the guy underpaying me by just over $100 because I hadn't insisted on a written agreement and was in no position to haggle/negotiate; the last time I do favours for friends, especially those who're religious. (The fact that I'm rationing out the beers at one a week and am only on my sixth one next weekend doesn't have any relevance to my landlady, who tried to confiscate a couple with intent to give them to my landlord and made an almighty fuss about how selfish I was being when I said I'd be fine with sacrificing them if either of them had just asked for one, how she'd noticed my ex always bought the wine despite our having agreed on certain divisions of costs when we were together, and a whole lot of other irrelevant bullshit.)

I need help getting out before the end of June, assuming I find a job and somewhere to go by then. Otherwise, I'm quite likely to end up on the street or attempting to off myself again. Currently, I have no job, nowhere to go and not even enough money to buy a cheap bicycle for $175. Even if I take my car to a dealer who'll settle the balance of my loan with the bank, I get nothing for it because it's an old model which I haven't been able to afford to take better care of and is pretty much a lemon four years after I drove it off the showroom floor. (I should have traded it in after two, before the new model came out). That's the best deal I've been offered. The alternative is to either trade it in for something else and extend my loan or take an amount that's less than it's worth and continue paying off a loan for a vehicle I no longer have. Hooray for death by a thousand cuts under Consumer capitalism.

Apparently, it's all my fault for not learning my life lessons, growing the fuck up, sorting my life out and GTFO of the family home a hell of a lot sooner (by at least a decade, nearly two), when the physical abuse by my peers first started in small and subtle ways. I thought that would all be behind me when I left high school, then varsity, then two corporate jobs. But no, I'm the kind of person who attracts bullies and toxic, abusive relationships.

The moral of the story

If I had known what I now know and the lessons I have learned when I was a padawan/young twenty-something, I would have taken my education seriously and applied myself to obtaining both CS and EE degrees instead of a crappy, near-worthless diploma, moved into my own two-room shoebox as a priority and bought a bicycle instead of a car. Anywhere I can't reach by bike probably isn't worth going and a car is an immovable liability/waste of money two years after purchase. At least I would have my own space (which I so desperately crave). At least then, I could be an allegedly horrible, reprehensible and repulsive degenerate of a person all by myself without anybody to hurt or hurt me. I'm fucking done with living with other people for a while. Fuck that noise; I want a thousand days of solitude, even if it's in a corrugated iron shack in an informal settlement. I'm prepared to cook my supper in a three-legged potjie over a wood fire and boil collected rainwater in a cast iron pot while I wait for my orchard and mielies to grow.

Honestly, at this stage, I'm prepared to live on a camp bed with a sleeping bag and a camp chair and folding table in somebody's garage, undercroft or old servants' quarters (as long as there's a plug point and running water) just to be able to get away from here. I just want some space of my own to be myself (horrible or otherwise) again and keep my interaction with people to a minimum while I figure out how to cope with/manage my shitty life situation, get back on my feet and out in the world again without being scrutinised, criticised, judged, condemned, restricted, rejected and ostracised. That shit is literally making me crazy and suicidal. It is not in any way conducive to me so much as thinking of an action plan/way forward, let alone pursuing it. Yet, somehow, I still manage to restrict the time I spend buggering around on social media (still too much), which I apparently need to succeed in the modern world, hunt for jobs, write, make music and try to flog my Patreon to disinterested parties. Oh, and I'm also writing a proposal for a social media site for someone who's attempting to gather funding.

Seeing my shrink for two hours a month (which costs me a month's wages from my part-time weekend job) and the afore-mentioned job is not enough, as much as I love animals.

So if you can spare between ten and twenty-seven dollars a month to help keep me afloat, please subscribe to my Patreon. Your support will be greatly appreciated.

[doomedandstoned]

Gangrened Conjure Dizzying Atmosphere in ‘Deadly Algorithm’

~Review by Billy Goate~

Before us lies an enigma called 'Deadly Algorithm' (2021) by Finnish band GANGRENED, whom we've introduced you to before, when they dropped that wonderfully dreary doomer 'We Are Nothing' (2014). Let me share with you the diary of my thoughts as I immersed myself in their recently released full-length.

Deadly Algorithm by Gangrened

Deadly Algorithm starts with gentle, quiet picking that echoes faintly, but already surrounds us with a strange, if inviting, airspace. A melodic line develops as "Harrbåda" gains volume, building it seems towards a crescendo -- then suddenly stopping as a drumroll interrupts. The atmosphere returns to quirks and quarks, increasingly distorted notes, spikes of reverberating rhythm. All the while, the same short impermanent melodic motif makes its statement, until it flitters away into the void.

Deadly Algorithm by Gangrened

"Triptaani" makes a strong entrance, this time with galled vocal attack and a slow, but strong, guitar lead girded by the fuzz-sparked gears of bass and drum languidly moving this machine along. A hail of shredding follows, with cymbals crashing to a throbbing beat, leading to one ardent chord laid upon another. Eventually the pace slows to a crawl, with dissonant harmonies, and a wild solo from Jon Imbernon that's almost overcome by the industrial crunch of Lassi Männikkö's dumming, Joakim Udd's vile spew of noise, Mikko Mannistö's declamatory singing.

Deadly Algorithm by Gangrened

"Hologrammi" features more familiar doom pacing with a searing riffage, a slow burn flow of bass and drums, and clean (but pissed off) crooning. It's surrounded by a mesmerizing jumble of pedal effects, noise, downtuned instrumental buzz, and crackling amps -- of which make its climactic moment of vocal delivery emphatic and powerful.

Deadly Algorithm by Gangrened

Intricate guitar trilling action introduces “Kuningatar” and it sounds almost like temelos dancing upon its appointed harmonic scale in those opening moments. By the time the rest of the crew sounds off, it turns into a frightening ensemble, indeed. I imagine this would be quite chilling to experience in a live setting. While the vocals feel swallowed up in the great reverberating wall of sound, it seems to add to the mystique of the whole dim sound environment. Psychedelic noodling returns six minutes and if you listen carefully you can hear a seething malediction pronounced sternly beneath the fray of scattered noise, synth, and pedal effects. Great doom returns to ground us to reality and the band improvises a swirl of activity that makes me think of the wandering spirits released from the Ark of the Covenant in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Deadly Algorithm by Gangrened

”Triangeli” grabs hold of us with a rumbling bass line that establishes the song’s basic theme, soon to be reinforced by guitar. Meanwhile, words are spoken with accented cymbals and hypnotic drumming. The song ends with whispered lyrics uttered over a soundgarden of riffage, soft cymbals, omnipotent bass rumble, and the cycling sounds of amp feedback. I don't know the words, and the singer refuses to share them, so that means what he's singing is left up to your fertile imagination. Or you can just enjoy the vocal aesthetic and what it contributes to this dense, dark atmosphere.

A cathartic journey, indeed, which I ventured on while I was in an especially discouraged and pissed off mood. Even though I understood not its words, I felt its sentiment and it was in some way cleansing. Available digitally, on vinyl and compact disc as an independent release (order here).

Interviewing Gangrened Guitarist Jon Imbernon

By Billy Goate

You've been a band for quite a while. I understand you are one of the founding members, too. How did Gangrened form to begin with?

Well, we were a bunch of guys living in the same area around ostrobotnia, between kokkola and new karleby, here in the center west coast of finland. so few of us had the idea to do the band so we asked the others, but none of those guys except me are still in the band. high level of mobility because studies in this area of small towns, to bigger cities of Finland.

It sounds like there are challenges keeping a band together in Ostrobotnia? I imagine it makes it ver5y challenging to get new band members to replace the old. Is there much of a music scene to speak of?

Yeah, actually I'm not from here myself. I'm Basque/Spanish and in the specific area I live, like around 110 kilometers or so, there's no real bands or scene, but if you go forward you reach Oulu in the north or Seinajoki, bigger cities with more bands and such. And yes, from the exact spot I live now, I have needed to look more than 100 kms to find new members. I'm moving in a near future to Tampere, so that should help in strengthening the line-up.

So how long has the most recent crew of Gangrened been together?

Since May of 2015, just after some dates we played with Bongzilla in Finland, the entire line-up shifted.

Gangrened basically means "gangrene" right?

It's like "corrupted," you know? Yes, the name comes from the illness.

My grandfather's big toe got infected from a cut because he didn't treat it properly. When he finally went to a doctor, they told him he would have to amputate his foot to live. He refused, stating he wanted to die with both of his feet on. So he officially died of gangrene!

Ouch! Okay...

Did you pick Gangrened for any special reason, like the corruption of society or something like that?

Yeah, that kind of reason. I wanted some grimmy name, but actually now it's getting a bit inappropriate, as we are not so typically doom sludge anymore.

How would you describe/characterize your sound now?

Well, I would say it is deep and varied. Actually, I think this record is like transitional, just because, for example, one song "Hologrammi" is an old song we included. But newer stuff goes beyond what has been previously recorded, take songs like "Triangeli" or "Kuningatar."

Deadly Algorithm by Gangrened

We reviewed 'We Are Nothing' back in 2014, and at the time we described your sound in terms of: "Slow, behemoth sized riffs. Excessive feedback. Fuzz worship." What would you say has changed or is different now, as your sound, style, and general musical approach has evolved?

Well, at some point, just as an exercise of abstraction to what we were doing, how it was turning out with songs like "Triangeli" or "Kuningatar" I decided to look into my whole musical background, and keep on adding elements from it. Also I got bored of the regular sludge-doom thing. So I considered it more interesting, and more comfortable to me, to keep an essence of slow and heavy music, and atmospheric at times, but not so defined inside the regular sludge-doom thing. The atmosphere feels very trippy, even psychedelic at times.

Let's talk about the new album. Why is it called 'Deadly Algorithm'? I think about 10 years ago, I never used the word "algorithm," but now it's a common word that most people at least understand in concept.

Well, I'm studying now in the university again, engineering in information technology, and at same time i'm a person a lot with strong progressive values, so through my studies and also digging on related topics like online privacy or the evolution and development of the new technologies I found alarming how the new technologies are going and its implications.

There are several key things that many people do not think about: smart phones have like six sensors on average to spot your location, plus no company gives services for free. If so, it's because the product is the user of the service. There's no other reason for that. So beginning with these facts, there are a lot of things going on that everyone should be aware of, and the album theme is all about that. Nowadays, data algorithms are making more and more decisions in our lives that no more take into account true needs as humans.

It seems like we have created our own virtual prison, without even realizing it.

Yes, but the thing is who runs the prison? not ourselves at all.

Getting into the songs themselves, are they all sung in Finnish?

Yes. At first some were in english but then the singer decided to sing all songs in Finnish.

Starting with the first song, can you tell us what each title means and what themes you explore?

The first song ("Harrbåda") is simply the name of a coastal area around here. The second ("Triptaani") is a medicine for headaches. The third song ("Hologrammi") is named obviously after a hologram. The fourth ("Kuningatar") means "Queen" and the last ("Triangeli") is "triangle."

Is there any conceptual, thematic, or spiritual relationship between these tracks?

It's quite a personal thing to the singer, he wrote the lyrics and I can't exactly tell you their meaning because Mikko Mannistö is a bit secretive about it. But personal things, yes. Personal matters to him.

Tell us a little bit about the recording process. Where did you record, with whom, and are there any memories that stand out from that time?

Well, we started recording the record in june 2018, with a friend of the singer, at some big rooms in a youth center house. We did most of the recordings with him until February of 2019. At that time, we asked a few people to mix, master, and finish the process. but nothing worked and there was some time wasted waiting for answers.

I decided moving forward we would go with someone who is recording records all the time and known by us, so we asked Tom Brooke, an English guy who lives close to Jyväskylä, runs a studio, and is the live sound technician for Oranssi Pazuzu. So we finished the record, a few more guitar tracks, mixing, and mastering with him.

I remember there was a long time between sessions, so new ideas were constantly coming to us to add to the songs for the next session. That’s why some guitar tracks were added for mixing just the day before starting to mix.

I'm sure you were relieved once all the recording, mixing, and mastering was finally done!

Yeah ! like this is the record and now its totally defined and wrapped up. As a guitarist, what can you tell us about the guitar writing on the new album? Anything that you are especially proud of or that you think the listener should pay special attention to?

The intro is all played by me, and then the weirdest stuff, noisy guitar here and there, and the first half of riffs of triptaani , i'm quite proud of the first two or three riffs, and I used to be proud about some riffs in the middle of "hologrammi." The noisiest and more psyched out guitars of kuningatar.

Tell us about what you, as a guitarist, used in the studio while recording 'Deadly Algorithm'

Well, so I used three guitars to record the album: one Gibson SG Standard from the late '90s, another SG Standard from 1980, and a Gibson Les Paul Classic from around 1991. The SG from the late '90s was ultra-modded -- I changed the finish, pickups, electronics, tuners, but in the end sold it and now it's owned by David from Slomatics. The 1980 I just bought for the recording, so it was all stock. Later, I changed the pickups. The Gibson Les Paul also had all replaced tuners, circuit pickups, and so. It's my main guitar and I used it in most of the songs. The SGs I just used for "Triangeli," the last song.

About effects, I use a Big Muff Fuzz mainly, but also a custom Dunwich Amps FuzzThrone for the ultra heavy parts, like at the end of "Kuningatar." Other effects I used were the Dunlop Echoplex pedal and the Strymon Capistan. I love tape echo sounds and these pedals emulate it. Also, another effect I really like and couldn't live without is the Earthquaker Devices Transmisser. I used it in three of the songs.

Amps used included an '80s Laney AOR Pro Tube and Orange OR120 from 1975 and a late '70s Matamp GT120. Every rhythm guitar track was recorded with two of them at same time, mainly the Matamp and the Laney. That probably is the main sound of the album, but I think "Hologrami" I recorded with the Orange and the Matamp. About cabs, I used two Orange cabs -- one with Eminence speakers the other with WGS speakers.

Have you had a chance to play live at all since the pandemic?

Nope, we haven't been rehearsing either.

If you had your choice to tour with any five bands and play in any five places, what would they be and why?

We are keeping it for when there's no risk of cancellations, we have some date plans and so on, but it sucks to cancel things so we are just waiting. I would play with Unsane in New York for example then some bands I have liked recently, even if some are inactive at this moment. Belzebong, Nightslug, Domkraft, Follakzoid, and the body also.

That would be a sick line-up!

What parts of the world would you like to travel to?

Well, I've never been to America or Asia. I have been to Europe, the UK, and Russia only.

Okay, yeah it would be cool to have you come over here and play for us sometime.

Yeah, would be nice

Lastly, did you all wear your heart on the opposite sides of your head for this photo to give the illusion that your heads are on backwards? Or was it digitally manipulated to make it look like your heads were on the wrong way? I love the concept!

I made that pic myself. I took two photographs, one of us in front and another in the backs. So then I took the heads of the back picture and put on our front bodies pic, with Photoshop. David lynch-ish vibes!

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[aassumida]

GIARDINO BLU

A / N: before I started everything I wanted to warn you that I don't speak English very well, forgive me if the story sucks

Things bloom

In unexpected moments

"But I know

This can't go on forever

I have to let you go

But I want you so much "

15th century: March 21st Italy

POV Author

It was a scorching summer day in a quiet northern Italian city in which it was not well known except for the fact that it was surrounded by fine grains of areas that covered the streets, mountains and houses, its residents were mostly humble people who lived their lives calmly, and without a lot of worries just having to stay in the same village day by day, there lived a man he was not a high class nobleman who lavished wealth and money wherever he went he was a simple homeless person nor a he was certainly not the most humble person in terms of money but he had an inherent and pure beauty that was easily hidden by his "rags" and dirt

An orphan since his birth with the disappearance or death of his parents he doesn't even know without knowing the world trapped walking in circles he steals to survive not that he really had much choice

ー hey little thief come back here with this

But an escape really was getting difficult to escape almost the whole city knew his face and knew him very well that was what they called him "little thief" even though he knew his name Naruto Uzumaki this time was a simple bakery that had the displeasure of being in touch with the blond but it wasn't his fault after all in this village street people only have one end to starve or steal to survive what would you choose?

He ran for a while until the lord of the bakery got tired of running after him giving up on leaving him with bubbling anger in his eyes Naruto took advantage of it and started eating the piece of bread with such speed that he realized where he was only after savoring "his "food in a lost forest was all he needed. The forest was full of trees it was even surprising compared to the hot climate of the village that no water was so dry wasting nature would appreciate everything since it was his first time there in his 21 years but the desperation to leave and go to the place who called it home was bigger

He walked on confusing trails up and down up there and without even knowing if he was close to leaving that place, it didn't make sense to sigh loudly with tiredness "My back is killing me and my legs are stuck in a stream" I thought with every step I took I didn't know little where he was going had left by the city gates they said that the forest was haunted they had already seen monsters there that they had tails and fierce looks stories to prevent their children from leaving home or disobeying their parents "If you don't behave I will leave you in the forest "but the most" scary "" The Monster of the Castle "the monster of the castle say he was the son of a lord who was the fruit of a love that could not even exist he was born with a few lines on his face that was thing for an ox to sleep Naruto always thought of the orphanage where he lived always told him these stories he didn’t understand yes he knew that there was indeed a man who lived in a huge old castle like the grains of sand in the city is that he was in fact the son, not of a lord, but of nothing but nothing less, the Duke of Florence, the youngest son in which he was sent is expelled for his appearance to this castle, the residents who saw him said that they said he it was ugly disgusting it’s even horrendous the blond with beautiful eyes blue sky didn’t understand didn’t understand why they didn’t even really know the man

Surprised sighs mixed with euphoria came out of his mouth as he witnessed a huge castle in front of him, it looked like it was made up of unanswered questions, he was in fact lost, but now what he was going to do to face the monster or remain lost without even being good at it. forest

He did the obvious right back to the forest not five minutes after turning around he started trying to climb the huge walls several and several attempts most fail well all until he finally managed to get over the huge walls "My God what a hell wall "

His surprise was such a huge garden composed of the most diverse and beautiful flowers ever seen, each one more beautiful than the other yellow red white pink and many more flowers never seen was right in front of him his eyes shone but he never observed everything with the greatest fascination the most beautiful thing he has witnessed in all these years but at the back of him he saw a man with short medium-length reddish hair is a thin physique watering is cultivating these flowers he seemed so serene cultivating his flowers he was so beautiful indeed there were thousands of lines and some black dots marking his face it only made him more beautiful Naruto barely noticed the hours seconds transformed into minutes gardem gave way to hours when he realized the man had already entered his castle is left his jrdim there lit only by the dim light of the moon

Naruto looked at those beautiful flowers

"Only a few will not hurt anyone"

He thought with a careful leap he looked like a cat just on the tip of his feet he was admiring for a while or a lot he lost his hours touching the flowers with delicacy they were so soft then after a few minutes he tore some flowers with care, right, carefully wrapped them in his little cloth when coming back to the forest it seemed that going back to his village was much easier maybe because of his wandering mind that only thought about the day he saw "The monster of the castle" that of a monster only had names he didn't look like a monster people really invent each thing he went to his little hiding place it was nothing too much to tell the truth just a bed is a table it could be worse was sleeping on his straw bed because we don't have any improvised money not soon after putting the flowers in a glass of water I could hardly sleep that's a thousand because just to throw himself in bed if he sleeps there like a cannonball the truth was that he only thought about the garden and the castle he wanted so much to talk to the man when you saw earlier your hunger took away everything when you fell asleep due to tiredness your thoughts were gone for an instant

Naruto POV

Italy June 22

Waking up with the hot sun hitting me in the face again was an ass every day the mana thing didn’t make a day that this village doesn’t get a miserable heat and honestly I didn’t want to wake up I looked to the side lazily but the sleep soon passed me I got up hurriedly and went to the flowers I took them in my hand shock

ー It wasn't a dream, I walk so exhausted I'm even daydreaming it can only be that

My belly is asking for urgent food I give a loud sigh but one day

ー Sometimes I just wanted to be rich

With the flowers I went walking through the streets, vast streets of the city simple houses mostly humble surrounded me small markets but a common day for everyone as always people looked at me unwanted this is what I am but I couldn't blame them in the end one a thief who steals them almost daily would be funny if it weren't tragic an old woman approached me with a smile on her face different from most people around me, how strange people usually ignore me or pretend I'm not even here or even stop to curse me I looked at him suspiciously "not a good thing"

ー What beautiful flowers my young man how much they cost

She spoke with a gentle smile I raised an eyebrow what the hell is she talking about I dared to ask

ー What?

She looked at me confused we both looked at each other in confusion it was even funny the scene two idiots not understanding anything they were talking about we were on different pages it would never work

ー You are not selling your flowers

I looked at the makeshift bouquet in my hands. Sell ​​? Flowers ? Money….

ー Ehhh yes ... I am selling it I mean they are mine… .. lady

Trying to sound as good as possible as someone who really knows what he is doing as well as I thought it sucked the old woman laughed outrageously she took some coins and handed it to me I took it firmly let her decide not to give it to me anymore

ー Well I want these roses here

She pointed it out and gave it to me quickly and right after its withdrawal I still didn't understand anything in one hand flowers in the other money

ー Money….

A whirlwind of thoughts prowled my head. I could sell flowers to get what to eat and live, maybe get out of this crappy village and thus be able to live, but these flowers are not even mine, how can I sell them?

I approached a guy who sold Shikamaru muffins I think he looked at me ugly with a mixture of tiredness he looked like he hadn't slept in ages with his black hair the Nara family one of the families but humble is respected at the same time I remembered I had assaulted him last week he just doesn't get me because of the laziness that has to be moved a putz muscle it had to be him my stomach rumbled loudly I apparently gave a boring smile and my discomfort didn't show

ー Will try to rob me again Naruto

He said suspiciously but soon after yawned his eyes slowly closed I scratched my head

ー Not this time… .I mean I'll pay myself Naruto Uzumaki I'll pay

I said hurriedly I handed him the money anyway he still looked at me suspiciously not believing in a word my look at him was judging me looking into my soul

ー HMM ... you didn't steal it from anyone is it

I looked at you offended

ー OF COURSE NO! I managed with my own money I… .. am selling flowers

I showed him the flowers with a proud look they were fascinated with them I was feeling so good that everything in me screamed "you are too convinced for someone who won 10 silvers"

ー Didn't know you grew flowers

I don't cultivate!

ー I will change of life

Said firmly

ー As long as you stop stealing my cookies I don't care little thief

ー I have a name Shikamaru

He just looked at me and gave a lazy smile I gave a smile too I left that tent and left as quickly as possible pretending dementia listening to Shikamaru's laugh behind this Shikamaru invents everything

Somewhere else

Gaara POV

Another day in this huge castle alone with my beautiful garden one of the only things that doesn't keep me lonely in this scum of life I let out loud sighs staring at the wall in disbelief how long it will last how long

I hear the door slam that made my thoughts change a little bit. Who is it that I hurry up sitting on the bed looking for my mask?

ー Master you should have been getting up ...

I sighed loud relief stamped across my entire being my right arm and the only person besides me who lives in that stupid castle came through the door with a coffee tray in addition to my cook's right arm and basically mine does everything I feel that without him I would go to freak out

Lee Rock Lee you don't need so much formality is your day off you shouldn't be doing anything but fun like I don't know dating you are young

ー The 70 year old man talks more fun than cooking is helping you in your impossible Giardino

ー Lee formality the formality reminds

He gives a small laugh Lee always manages to get laughs and smiles from me

ー yes yes you don't think you should go out a bit but Gaara meeting new people a boy or girl who knows

ー Who would want to know me or my father wants to see me my brothers for them I hardly exist because I have to be so horrendous

I said throwing myself on the bed again running my hands over the marks on my face

ー You have to stop calling yourself that not everyone cares about how you look, besides that you are very beautiful I'm sure you just didn't find the right person and your brothers love you I know NOW go take a shower to eat for the love o sunny day perfect for farming don't you think

He put the tray on top of the table, which was always full of books about flowers. I loved creating flowers and taking care of them. My mother liked it. I felt sorry for not having met him. Lee left quickly. I was already preparing for monotonous days. to the bathroom

Somewhere else

POV Author

The young Uzumaki sold "his" flowers surprisingly they made successes who saw fell in love with his old "friend" Sakura Haruno appeared all euphoric as always a woman from high society nor was it known why loads of water she was in that peaceful village

ㅡ NARUTO UZUMAKI WHO YOU STOLE THIS TIME

she said already giving him slaps and sermons as always

ㅡ AINN Sakura-Chan how long I thought until you had already fled this city

I teased her, she rolled her eyes and gave me another shit making me bewildered it hurt so much it looks like I'm going to pass out sure there will be a cock

ㅡ SHUT UP THE MOUTH BAKA You know why I'm here I need to see my lady

She smiled smugly but with a look of malice I wanted to laugh but I am respectful

ㅡ first stop screaming the scandalous it's me second came to see Hinata again

her look fell I gave a look of I KNOW YOU

ㅡ Know that the Hyuuga are enemies of the Haruno

ㅡ nonsense nobody will stop our love now give me one of these wonderful flowers

I gave her the rest of the flowers with rest I say a flower she gave me the money and I quickly denied it

ㅡ Go right before I change my mind I don't deny money

She ran quickly with the flower she knows me well the flower in her hand she swayed with the speed of her steps more obvious without first giving me another punch mommy I just don't fight with her because I don't want to be beaten to death

Watching the sunset I didn't know where I was going the streets are still busy as if the joy of the city really started I could just go away and wait one day I had money for at least tomorrow but I followed the forest when I entered it all it looked so scary but also so comforting in a short time unlike yesterday the moon was bright i didn't know where i was going i was going back to that place to that garden for that man AI Naruto your idiot is going crazy

Upon seeing the castle even with the huge trees I could clearly see flashing flames and attractive drugs

I tried school again the walls were easier than the last time when I jumped I could see those beauties this beautiful Giardino I approached without wanting to steal know how much closer I saw a body A BODY was the red-haired man I got closer her every time but my heart was beating the more I got close until I saw him sleeping he was so serene in the middle of several sunflowers

ㅡ Who are you… ..

I ran my hand over his face my fingers were delighted by his lines his shadow on his face his little dots the man opened his eyes eyes sea green beautiful as the owner grandma tell you he looked bewildered but when he noticed our approach he quickly got up and walked away

ㅡ Who are you…. why are you here

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: From the news European countries have been easing the lock down but restaurants and cafes remain closed. So what do you do for food? Do you cook? Are you a good cook? Do you enjoy cooking?

You are right to say in Europe things have been easing up a little. However each European country is responding differently as things present themselves on the ground. In France and in Paris in particular the lock down has eased with shops re-opening and schools have limited re-opening. The shops allow a limited number of people in at any one time so there is a queue usually (orderly and well humoured it has be said, at least in my experience). Cafes and restaurants remain closed pending a further review - in early June I think. But some eateries do deliveries for pick ups by a side window.

I cook. Just how well is more debatable as my criteria for success is not to kill others or myself. So judged on that score I would say I’m a reasonably decent cook. I hate to admit it but next to British food Norwegian food is not really much to write home about. I’m actually being harsh on British cuisine. I know everyone goes on about how bad British food is but it’s a cliche and untrue given the plethora of of cooking TV shows and just how dramatically British cuisine has changed in the last 30 years. I’ve been lucky to have dined at some really great restaurants from childhood because my father in particular was a foodie and we ate well.

I would like to say I learned a lot from my mother but I didn’t pay as much attention as I should have. She could very cook well but she did so rarely and at a time when we siblings didn’t take much interest. My Norwegian mother was fortunate to learn culinary skills on a cooking course for girls one summer in the Swiss alps at a finishing school as she was also at a nearby boarding school. Her parents thought she would make a good homely wife and hostess - but typically Norwegian my mother had other ideas. Still, a lot of what she learned had stayed with her and she developed a keen interest in French style of cooking to be able to cook well when she wanted to.

When we lived overseas in some countries - such as in India, Pakistan, Dubai and China - we had native cooks and servants and I remember spending a lot of time watching how the food was being made in the kitchen with the friendly cook. And I learned a few things here and there. We didn’t just eat ‘British food’ at home but actually enjoyed the local cuisine. I loved walking in the bazaars and eating street food - it was tasty and so much fun. My parents would put on lavish parties and that was always catered. I did learn from my mother when I did pay attention and her example stayed with me.

At boarding school and university I would cook as well but again nothing exceptional. Often I would have friends around and we would cook together and I would be naturally curious as to how they made a dish that was from their country and I learned on the hoof from them. At university I also started to write down recipes and kept a record of them in a file. So quick and easy meals from little ingredients because of an essay crisis or during a revision slog or the occasional dinner party where I sweated on making dishes from well thumbed cook books. No one died so encouraged I carried on cooking.

I do love cooking because it allows me to have the mental space to think about other things other than work or personal stuff. It gives me a lot of peace in cooking for myself and for others. I’m not a seat by the pants kind of cook. I envy those who can just naturally toss ingredients together and come up with something divine. I am quite regimented. I like to have all my ingredients clearly cut and put on plates in the right order. I like order over chaos. It doesn’t mean my mind is regimented. I can cook a recipe from muscle memory but I need to have order on the kitchen table.

These days I’m fortunate that I get to dine in some very fine Michelin starred restaurants on my business travels and it’s made a more discerning foodie. I avoid restaurant food in hotels for instance because consistently they disappoint. Instead I always plan ahead if I know I am going to a foreign city I will reserve a table during my stay of a restaurant recommended by foodie friends I respect. Often I have to choose the restaurant for a corporate client we may be schmoozing and that has broadened my knowledge and palate to find the right restaurant through trial and error. In Paris too with friends usually we go and try out restaurants that are on the rise and off the tourist beaten track. For the food gourmand though Lyon is the place to go for a pilgrimage. It is after all the place where the great French chef Paul Bocuse was based.

At home I do like to cook for dinner parties in my apartment. It takes planning in terms of deciding what dishes to cook - French cuisine naturally. Through Parisian friends I am more discerning where to go to get the required ingredients. I plan the whole dinner party like a military operation in terms of the logistics. Some may laugh but I take to heart what the great French chef Jacques Pepin once said that, “great cooking favours the prepared hands”.

As a ritual I always do my vegetable shopping in the weekend food market stalls or I go to particular boutiques shops where there is an artisanal element on display. Even what to cook I take into account the people I am bringing together and how they might get a long over the food. The French never bring a bottle of wine to a dinner party as one might in England. It would be considered rude. And yet wine is a serious accompaniment to the food served. Fortunately for me I co-own a vineyard with my two cousins out in the sticks of rural France so I have become greatly educated about wine and my little wine collection is sufficient for all occasions.  

I think through osmosis I have become a better cook and I can feel it every time I go back to England to see friends or my family. I do look on horrified at what they are eating some times. But I have to remind myself not to fall into the trap of being a Parisian food snob. In England I think the food in restaurants has greatly improved but it’s also true that less and less people know how to cook. This is also increasingly true in France too, especially Paris. Fast food and pre-cooked meals from restaurants as well as Uber/Deliveroo are changing things habits. Habits such as cooking dishes were handed down from generation to generation but instead are at your ready made finger tips.

One of my French friends is a chef trained food critic for a major magazine and he has helped me become a better cook. I feel like I am in a piano class with a stern teacher as he slaps my hands in irritation if I try to write down notes instead of paying close attention to the wafting aromas. To him food is spiritual and aesthetic experience that has to be engaged with the heart and the soul. He keeps chiding me that “You are not cooking. You are making love”.

I don’t quite feel as lyrical or mystical as he but I appreciate the passion and this marvellous trait of actually caring.

From him and other French friends  I feel I’ve become a better chef by absorbing certain key principles in good and healthy cooking: never rush cooking as if you’re chasing a missed bus but savour every moment; eat as fresh and natural as possible; local and seasonal are best; left your ingredients be your seasoning; fat is your friend, use butter over olive oil in dishes; never waste food, use all of it; everything in moderation; and every meal is a celebration and not an ordeal.

The last one in particular is important. A meal is not about eating (or drinking of good wine) it’s about the conversation. In the same way it is impossible for an Italian to cook for one person - try making lasagne or any pasta dish for one because you’ll end up making it for five - so it is for the French. Good food is nothing without good conversation.

For the French a successful evening isn’t just judged by the food but also by the talk around the table. The French love to pontificate, gyrate, and muse on any topic under the sun. It’s not just about the knowledge or intellect one brings to the table but also a worthy argument. A true argument isn’t to exclude people but an invitation to draw people in with their own unique views to come to some settled truth. A riposte must nick but never wound for good manners are premium. Wit and charm are prized but courtesy and grace are precious. Parisians tend to have elevated convivial conversations and yet outside of Paris the conversations are more earthy and hearty - ate least that’s been my experience. Either way conversation is a companion to cooking.

I’ve learned this last principle from my lockdown experience with my neighbours in the small apartment building I live in. Most of the residents have bolted before the lockdown to their country homes in Normandy and Bretagne. A few have remained for different reasons. During the lock down phase a couple of us have been buying food for the more senior aged neighbours.

In particular two neighbours I have done their personal shopping for them since they are classified at risk. One is a retired army general and another is retired art gallery owner. They both have gourmand tastes and I have to trek to particular shops to buy the things they want, usually preserves or cheeses or pastries. I often cook for them and often it’s dishes they are used to having so I’m extending my culinary range. They are both fussy eaters used to having a gourmand palate so I feel like I’m at school sometimes having to be corrected now and again as well as being graded.

They were at first wary of letting me cook for them because they thought I was another English barbarian but I slowly won them over. I’ve even got them to try some very English things. The cakes I did went down well but they really liked my scones as well as the clotted cream and jam to go with it. Here I must thank my new Fortnum and Mason’s cook book which has an excellent recipe for scones. I’m surprised at how quickly people have taken to them. So much so it’s become a weekend ritual with the other residents of the building.

We gather at the weekends in the enclosed court yard and with some the small kids having the freedom to run around a little the rest of us sit and chat and we share food that we’ve all cooked. We listen to music played by two residents each proficient on the violin and cello. It’s a fantastic bonding experience and it brings us closer together to the point we have our own WhatsApp group and we help each other out when we can. And surely that is another reason why one enjoys cooking is the sheer pleasure that you hope to bring to others through the taste of food.

If I have learned anything then it’s that is no good or a bad cuisine, just the one you like the best. We all have taste, even if we don’t realise it. Whether a person cooks well or badly it doesn’t stop you understanding the difference between what tastes good and what doesn’t.

For me cooking is precious. Cooking brings rhythm and meaning to my life.

Thanks for your question.

[batik96]

Venturing into 2020 ...

This will be the third year that I’ve used a daily word-count self-challenge to see if I can inspire myself to write more.

The first year, 2018, I wrote 43 words on New Year’s Day and, realizing that managing that every day would give me nearly 15,700 words at year’s end, I set that as my goal. (Not literal everyday writing but averaging it all out.) I surprised myself and ended up with a 50-words-a-day average. So I upped my self-challenge for 2019 to that 50-word level. 

I ended 2019 with a daily word average of 114 words and more than 41,000 total words.

I feel as if upping my self-challenge to 114 words a day in 2020 would be setting myself up for failure -- there’s a fine line between *challenge* and “seemingly impossible task” -- so I’m not officially going to go there. Instead, I’m going to maintain the 50-words-a-day goal for 2020 and hope that I meet it (and maybe, just maybe, manage to exceed those 114 words a day anyway)!

Dec. 31: Happy end to 2020. I am about to end the year having written far fewer words than I did in 2019. While I’m glad I managed to beat my daily word-average goal, and to some extent am pleased that I managed to write anything at all, I had been hoping for more. I have the ideas. (Well, a couple of ideas.) And I have a WIP that I think I’ll really like -- if I can pull it off. But the words don’t want to come. So I’m trying to be OK with writing about 25 percent* less than I did in 2019, recognizing that it’s still more than I wrote in the majority of years since 2012. And 2021 is a new year in which I can try again to write more (and hopefully better) words. (* That percentage depends on what measure I use. According to AO3, I’ve posted 20,000 fewer words than 2019′s 47,000. Which is pushing a loose 50 percent drop. But I know I have about 7,000 words in my unposted WIP, which brings the difference closer to 13,000, which I’m loosely considering 25 percent.)

Feb. 21: This is my first entry of 2020 and ... not great. But ... part of the reason I do it this way is because, when the words come, they tend to come in clusters of more than 50 words.So taking six weeks to write my first words isn’t fatal to the year-end goal.

During the weekend of Feb. 15-16, I wrote 1,320 words. Today (Feb. 21) I have added another 903 words, for a year-to-date word total of 2,223 words and a daily word average of 42.75 words. Which isn’t far off of that 50-words-a-day goal, despite my late start. (The words still feel kind of like I’m pulling teeth, but I have a solid idea -- and a unique idea -- that I like. Here’s hoping I can see it through to the end.

Feb. 23: Well, it wasn’t much, especially considering it was the weekend, but I added another 200 words to my current doc today, which brings my yearly word count up to 2,423 and my daily word average up to 44.87 words a day. I’m creeping closer to my 50-word-a-day goal and trying not to stall out for lack of time/energy. I want to write this. But every time I sit down to write, I’m also aware that I want to quilt. And I want to read. And I want to bake. And I barely have time for any of those things, let alone all of them. But I am trying to juggle. We’ll see how long I can keep everything in the air.

Feb. 29: It’s Leap Day, and I am determined not to waste an extra day in the year by doing nothing. So, along with making peanut butter cups and hoping to quilt yet today and maybe go for a walk, I have added 560 words to my current WIP, bringing my year-to-date word total up to 2,983 words and my daily average up to 49.71 words. I’m going to try to add to that before today is over. If not, then before the weekend is over. But I’m pleased that I’ve managed that many. 

March 7: So far today I haven’t managed any words. (I can hope that changes.) But, earlier this week, over the course of two days, I managed 599 words. That brings my yearly total today up to 3,582 words and my daily average to 53.46. 

March 11: On March 9 I managed 277 words. Today I added 363, for a combined 640 words. That brings the yearly total up to 4,222 words and my daily average up to 59.46 words. Slow but steady ...

March 15: Today I have added 579 words to my current WIP, which brings my yearly total up to 4,801 and my daily average to 64 words a day. (Though my doc says I have 5,108 words, so I’m not sure how to account for the missing 307 words. And, if I were to add them, it would push my word average to 68 words a day.)

April 16: I managed 1,031 words April 15 on a new WIP. (I would still be focused on my old WIP, except I have an exchange fic due at the end of May.) It took me a while to hit on an idea for the new one, but I’m happy with how it’s going so far. So, in the 106 days (as of April 15, not today) so far this year, I’ve written 5,832 words, for a daily average of 55.01 words a day. My average dropped in that month I apparently took off from writing, but I’m still above my daily average goal and my exchange fic is moving along, so I’m counting it as a win!

April 19: I have written another 1,339 words today on my exchange fic. Still quite a way to go, but it’s progress. I probably could keep writing -- conditions in my house are good at the moment. But I’ve been working on in for hours now (amid texting with friends and browsing Tumblr and Twitter), so I feel as if it’s a good time to stop and try something else for a bit. Anyway. That brings my yearly word count up to 7,171 words and my daily average (in 110 days) up to 65.19 words. I’m OK with that!

April 25: I’m developing a pattern, though not a bad one, I don’t think. I seem to be maxing out my writing sessions around 1,000 words before feeling the need to stop for the moment. Today, for example, I wrote 1,066 words. Not gonna complain about that, at all! It brings my year-to-date word total up to 8,237 words (in 116 days) and my daily word average to 71 words a day. I’m going to aim for more tomorrow, since I seem to manage to write on weekends more easily than I manage during the week. But we’ll see how things go.

April 26: I managed to write again today -- a good thing, since I rarely find time during the week and, thus, rely on weekends to get much of my writing done. I wrote 1,856 words (not including the ones I wrote to explain the ideas I have for the parts I haven’t yet written). That brings my yearly word total up to 10,093 words in 117 days, for a daily word average of 86.26 words. I’ll take it!

May 2: Well, I wrote 1,010 words today. None of them were for the exchange fic on which I should be working, but they were words. Words that I’m actually pretty pleased with, so I’m not feeling any regret about not focusing on my exchange fic. Today’s words bring me up to 11,103 words in 123 days, for a daily word average of 90.268. Fingers crossed I can find more time to write tomorrow -- and maybe on my exchange fic!

May 3: Well, I wrote another 1,023 words today and think I’ve finished (pending beta) the short little one-off that settled into my brain. That brings my word count for the year to 12,126 words in 124 days, for a daily average of 97.79 words. I’m still hoping to write more before the day is done, but I wanted to note this before I lost track of how many words I had in the first doc. Now ... on to my exchange fic. Update: I just added another 1,378 words to my exchange fic, which puts me at 2,401 words for the day and 13,504 words for the year. That raises my daily word average to 108.9 words a day. 

May 6: Over the past few days, I’ve written 474 words to put the finishing touches on something. That number’s deceptive, considering that some of those were new and some of them were replacing others already written and I honestly can’t be sure how many I actually wrote. But it was at least 474. Which brings my year-to-date word total up to 13,978 and my daily word average over 127 days to 110.06. The writing’s not what I would call “easy” right now. It’s not just flowing from my fingertips perfectly to grace my Gdocs. But it is happening, which means it’s not as hard as it has been at points during the past few years. I appreciate that.

May 9: I just added 1,051 words to my WIP. That brings me to a 130-day year-to-date word total of 15,029 and a daily word average of 115.6 words. I’m ... stunned.

May 16: I think I’ve finished my exchange fic. Today’s writing involved approximately 946 words, for an approximate year-to-date total of 15,975 words and a daily word average (in 137 days) of 116.6 words. (And my exchange deadline is still an astounding 15 days away. It’s not even a result of my “deadline’s approaching” panic-induced “inspiration”!) 

June 21: It seems like I’ve had a lull in writing (yes), but I finished my exchange fic and then spent some time beta-ing other exchange fics, so I wasn’t non-wordy during the past month. Still, it felt good today when I was able to add 579 words to the WIP I started in February. I also reworked a section, probably adding a few words, subtracting a few words, so I have no idea how many words I added there. And I think I have a workable route forward on finishing the WIP one of these days. (I won’t set a deadline, because artificial deadlines seem to freeze me as much as real ones inspire me.) Anyway ... 579 words added to the yearly word count makes for 16,554 words and a daily average (in 173 days) of 95.687 words a day. 

July 5: I finally had some time when things were quiet enough for me to focus on writing, so I did. I was at 1,214 words when the quiet went away. That gives a year-to-date word total of 17,768 words and a daily average (in 187 days) of 95.01 words. 

July 12: I’m still hoping to write more, but ... I went back and tweaked a conversation I wrote last week, adding 236 words. That brings me up to 18,004 words in 194 days for a daily average of 92.8 words.

July 21: I’m running behind in updating this, but ... on Sunday (July 19 -- happy birthday, BC!) I wrote 1,411 words on my current WIP. [It’s getting closer to done, but I’m still leery of my (made up) Aug. 1 deadline.] Those words bring me up to a yearly total of 19,415 words in 201 days, for a daily average of 96.59 words. I want to hope I get more written before the weekend, but ... it never seems to work. I managed to get my doc open Monday but didn’t add a word. It just sat there in a tab all day, watching me work. It’s open again today, but I’m not sure the result will be any different. Still, I’m trying!

P.S. I added another 555 words on July 21, bringing my word total (for 203 days) up to 19,970 words and a daily average of 98.37 words.

July 24: I’m surprising myself this week, managing to write a bit in the morning before work. (And letting a few minutes of writing time bleed into working time. But I was good and eventually closed out the doc to keep myself from straying away from work.) Anyway, on Thursday (yesterday/the 23rd), I wrote 779 words (and got a good chunk of my WIP’s ending written)! I still have to finish the ending and write an earlier scene, but ... it feels doable. The 779 words brings my word total for the year up to 20,749 words and a daily average (for 205 days) up to 101,21 words!

July 26: I am really trying to get this WIP finished. To that end, I have written 932 words so far today. I am optimistic that not many more will be needed and I hope maybe to write some of them today. Still, for now, that brings me to a year-to-date word total of 21,681 words and a daily average (in 207 days) of 104.73 words.

Aug. 2: I added 431 words to my WIP on Aug. 1, bringing my year-to-date word total up to 22,112 words and a daily average (in 213 days) of 103.8 words a day. (That was 213 days as of Aug. 1, not Aug. 2.) I had hoped to write some more today, but I’m not sure that’s going to happen. It’s ... complicated.

Aug. 19: No writing update. I’m kind of ... stuck. My WIP is either very nearly done or about to be razed to its foundation. I’m not sure which. While I decide, it’s sitting and I’m not writing. But I didn’t want this post to end up too far down my dash to find if/when I manage to string together words in a coherent fic-ly fashion again.

Sept. 6: Maybe it’s the three-day weekend allowing my brain a chance to relax and consider words, but, between today and Saturday/yesterday, I have managed 807 words on my WIP. I would like to think I’ll be able to add more before the weekend is done, but ... I’ll be happy with 807 words, if that’s what I end up with. It brings me to a year-to-date total of 22,919 words in 249 days, and a daily average of 92.04 words. Not as good as I’d like, but still well above my goal, so ... I’m OK with that! (And glad to be writing again, however slowly.)

Oct. 1: Between Sept. 30 and today, I have written 633 words. I still have a long way to go toward finishing this new thing (my WIP is on hold while I work on an exchange fic that is coming due alarmingly quickly, considering I just started writing it). That brings my year-to-date word total up to 23,552 words and my daily average (in 274 days) to 85.956 words. A bit lower than I had hoped, but they are words and I won’t complain.

Oct. 7: It’s been hard the past few days to keep track of a word count. I’ve basically been leaving my doc open all day every day and hoping that I manage to add a few words here and there. Along with adding some, I’ve subtracted some, I’ve tweaked some so they’re barely recognizable as having come from what was there before. But I have officially added 1,208 words since Oct. 1. That brings my year-to-date word total to 24,760 words and my daily average (in 280 days) to 88.4 words. I still have a long way to go on this WIP and not a long time in which to finish it, but it’s progress.

Oct. 11: OK, so ... I’m totally losing track of words gained. In the past few days, I added words. And then I subtracted words and added new words. And then I took a chunk of words and reworked them. I can say for sure that I have added 182 words. Though the reality is that there were many more than that written. Anyway. That’s 182 words added to the total word count to get 24,942 words in 284 days, That’s a daily average of 87.8 words. With 13 days left until I have to submit this WIP as a finished exchange gift. 

Oct. 17: I’m optimistic that I finished my current WIP (as opposed to the one that was a WIP before the current WIP and remains a WIP) this morning. If my beta agrees. Between edits and tweaks and the section I added this morning, I have no idea how many words that is. But, if I go back to when I started this WIP and add the current total to my word count as I started, I have written 26,588 words so far this year (not counting the ones I wrote and then edited or the ones I wrote and then deleted), for a daily average of 91.68 words in 290 days.

Oct. 18: My beta didn’t think I was quite done yesterday, but I was close, and I think I addressed her questions this morning. That’s another 291 words on Day 291 of the year. With a year-to-date word total of 26,879 words, that’s a daily word average of 92.367 words. 

Dec. 7: *sigh* My writing mojo has well and truly flown the coop. I think I need a vacation. But, while I have time to take (or lose) by the end of the year, work is too busy -- and too shorthanded -- for that to happen. So ... I muddle on. After submitting my exchange fic before Halloween, I haven’t really written anything new. Until I got an inkling of a thought for a scene at bedtime last night. I texted myself the bare bones and turned them into 451 words this morning. That’s not going to make up for not having written in close to two months, but ... it’s something. It’s 27,330 words in 342 days, for a daily word average of 79.679 words. I’m behind last year’s average, but still above my stated goal for the year (if not my hoped-for goal) and I still have time ... if I can find my focus.

Dec. 14: Baby steps. I’ve made no new progress on my WIP, but I did manage 518 words for an Advent fic prompt -- held over from 2019 because I only made it about halfway through them last December. That brings my yearly total to 27,848 words in 349 days (the way this day has started, I’m assuming there will be no time for non-work writing today), for a daily average of 79.79 words. Unless I somehow manage to finish the year strong, I’m not going to top last year’s average (and, not to seem pessimistic -- more realistic -- if it’s taken me 349 days to write nearly 28,000 words, I don’t see myself managing 13,000 words in the next 17 days. (That really would be a Christmas miracle.) But it is still well about my initial 43-words-a-day average and my “official” 50-words-a-day goal, even if I don’t write another word this year. So I will continue trying to write as I am able and try not to be too frustrated by how difficult words have seemed at large chunks of time this year.

Dec. 20: I tell myself that, with a handful of days before Christmas, I should be trying to write more of last year’s Advent fic. Or that cabin fic I’ve been pondering for months (well before the cabin fic fest was a thing). Instead, I managed 434 words on my WIP -- and count it as a win, even though I wish it were so much more. That brings me to 28,282 words in 255 days, for a daily average of 110.9 words a day. (That jump in average still doesn’t seem right, but apparently it is. It goes to show how even a relative few words can make a big difference.)

Dec. 31: Happy end to 2020. I am about to end the year having written far fewer words than I did in 2019. While I’m glad I managed to beat my daily word-average goal, and to some extent am pleased that I managed to write anything at all, I had been hoping for more. I have the ideas. (Well, a couple of ideas.) And I have a WIP that I think I’ll really like -- if I can pull it off. But the words don’t want to come. So I’m trying to be OK with writing about 25 percent* less than I did in 2019, recognizing that it’s still more than I wrote in the majority of years since 2012. And 2021 is a new year in which I can try again to write more (and hopefully better) words. (* That percentage depends on what measure I use. According to AO3, I’ve posted 20,000 fewer words than 2019′s 47,000. Which is pushing a loose 50 percent drop. But I know I have about 7,000 words in my unposted WIP, which brings the difference closer to 13,000, which I’m loosely considering 25 percent.)

[haifengg]

The Dutch Room - Chapter 5

Find all chapters here!

The people working at Panoma were as different as they could possibly be. There were only a few things they all had in common and one of these things was the love for Barbara. Pretty much every Panoma employee was coming here at least twice a week and it wasn’t just because the place was run by their close friend Taeil but also because Taeil was offering the two most appealing things humankind knew about: Booze and Girls.

Even though the ladder only appeared to about 95% of Panama's personnel, at least one half of the 5% was a regular at Barbara herself and June was in no way inferior to her male colleagues.

Perhaps she liked Barbara for other reasons than maybe Doyoung or Johnny but she liked it. The money they spend on girls, she invested in drinks. Every time she came here she remembered how important this was to her. Just like now.

Taeil was part of the Panoma team from the very beginning. In fact he had already been there when June joined the company so wasn’t really able to tell how he got there or what he was doing before he became a male madam. All she knew was that the lady who used to run the place was the actual Barbara but she never got to meet her just once.

That in mind June sometimes wondered what the place had looked like before it was passed on to her friend. The premises were located on the first floor above a copy shop a few blocks from their office. Which made it reachable and a place to go for a drink after work. Or for something else to do after work.

Taeil once told her that he refurbished the whole space except the bar. According to him it was hard to arrange the counter, drinks and shelves in an actually effective way and when he first started working here it was the first thing catching his attention: How easy it was to operate behind the counter and how everything was at the most ideal place possible. So he decided to keep it this way and it remains the same until today.

“I heard you helped out the big boss.” June stated, sitting on one of the high stools, stirring in her drink.

Taeil just showed up again after picking something off the floor. “Pardon me?”

She chuckled. “I said: I heard you helped out Jaehyun with something?”

He grinned. “Please, you don’t need to act as if you don’t know. I’m aware he’s telling you everything.”

June shrugged. “Not everything.”

“You know, even though Doyoung is officially his boy for everything and Johnny’s acting as his right hand, you’re the one he tells things.”

“Speaking of which-” June turned around as she spotted Doyoung from the corner of her eye. “There is our boy for everything!”

She grinned at him widely, watching him approaching with a woman closely following him.

“How’s it going pal?” June asked and thrived on the annoyed look he responded with.

Doyoung might not like being teased but if he would be serious about that he surely wouldn’t make it so damn easy for her.

“You do remember you have work tomorrow? That means getting out of bed on time.” She reminded him, her voice raised, as they walked past her.

Doyoung didn’t stop as he answered “You just go fuck yourself.” and disappeared with his usual hostess to the usual room.

June scoffed and mumbled into her glass “I would still be doing a better job than any guy I had lately.”

Taeil laughed. The Panoma people not just became friends to him, after years of being loyal customers, but some of them turned this place into his home away from home. And June was one of the people he got so close with he would consider her a sister.

“To answer your question: Yes I did.”

She looked up. “Did what?”

Taeil sighed and leaned forward. “I helped out Jaeyhun with this problem of yours.”

“So I was right. He didn’t tell me anything but I had a feeling.”

“Someone had to. Your boyfriend left quite a void we had to fill. That was some hell of a talk we had the other day and I’m glad we came up with something.”

June’s lively vibes died the second Taeil not only mentioned Lucas but also called him her boyfriend. She hated it when people knew better and still don’t care.

“He wasn’t my boyfriend. How many times do I have to tell you? I thought you would especially get it.”

“Why?” Taeil scoffed and handed a drink to one of his employees. The woman had just walked up to the bar and left with the drinks in her hand, without wasting a thought about the two of them or what they were talking about. “Because I own and run a hostess bar I would know about you don’t catch feelings for anyone?”

“Yes?”

“Honey, exactly because I do what I do and see what I see I know how it looks like.”

Now it was her turn to scoff. “And that makes you an expert about what I feel?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s just that I saw how you were letting yourself go just a little bit. People who didn’t know you wouldn’t have noticed.”

“But you do know me, huh?”

He smiled. “I imagine I know you quite well. I learned a lot about you the past few years and I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Well”, June said and chugged the last bit of her drink: “I’m sorry to tell you you’re mistaken if you think i could actually have cared about Lucas.”

She got up and grabbed her purse. “The only thing I cared about by that time was how the hell we were going to fix the catastrophe he caused and how we would be able to pull off everything we’ve worked for. To think a man - no - a fling was more important to me than the actual cause is foolish of you and you should know better. Good night.”

***

He dearly enjoyed her presence.

In this place of dozens of women it seemed to him as if she was the only sane one.

Compared to some of her coworkers she wasn’t actually pretty in a way which only meant she wasn’t hitting every single beauty standard society had come up with.

But she was ticking all the correct boxes for him. Her face was symmetrical but it looked like someone started to draw a portrait with a lot of motivation but lost track halfway through the process. And she knew that.

But instead of trying to cover it up or undergo plastic surgery she wore it with pride. Anong was never wearing heavy make-up and at some point Doyoung wasn’t sure if she even knew how to put it on.

In any case: He prefered her this way. Natural and approachable.

He was seeing her for almost 2 years every time he visited Barbara and he enjoyed her company up to this day. She made sure to always book the very same room beforehand when she knew he was visiting. Anong could sense how important consistency was to him.

“You know I’m discreet.” She said carefully and sat up. Anong never bothered to cover up her chest with the sheets or anything. Doyoung had once asked her about it and by that time she just laughed it off, replying that he had seen it anyway so why bother? Doyoung nodded at her question, calmly smiling and responded: “I know. That’s why I like you.”

“And you also know I am not into gossip. At all.”

He nodded again. “I know.” By now he could sense something was weighing heavy on her shoulders and he was impressed how well she hid the entire time they spent together this evening.

Anong rubbed her arm and avoided his eyes for a sheer second before taking the courage to ask:

“I am not asking this for myself but” She looked up meeting his gaze. “why has Lucas not been around for a while?”

Doyoung pushed parts of the sheets aside to sit up a little bit more straight. “What do you mean exactly?”

She tugged her hair behind her ears with both hands and took a deep breath.

"I'm asking this for two of the other girls. They are worried.”

“Honestly” He put up his hands. “I don’t know anything about his habits and who he is seeing.”

Anong sighed. She could sense how his mood changed, even though his face didn’t and immediately regretted having brought it up. But she had no choice.

“That’s not what I mean. You know some of us have children who they have to provide for. Those girls, the ones he was seeing, they’re struggling. So bad. And I need to tell them something. They know I am seeing you regularly so they keep asking me. They are my friends, please.”

The bagging tone rang out and made Doyoung get up and reach for his clothes.

“I can’t tell you anything about work.” He said terse as he pulled up his pants.

“I know but -"

“I can’t tell you anything about work.” He repeated with more emphasis and turned around. “If I were them I wouldn’t wait for him, there are plenty of other men out there.”

Anong looked him directly in the eye and understood what he was saying to her even if he didn’t exactly put it into words. She also knew that he wasn’t mad at her in any way. He understood she had to ask and she understood that he couldn’t talk about it. His job was at stake. Maybe more.

She watched him putting on his remaining clothes and eventually got up on her knees to check his tie. The rooms at Barbara didn’t have any mirrors for some weird reason so this became their little ritual because he hated looking sloppy.

As he walked up to the door she carefully asked: “You got nothing to do with it, right?”

Doyoung turned around, one hand on the door nod. “You know what I do for a living.” Then he paused, taking in the picture of the naked woman sitting on the disarranged sheets. This flawed woman that eventually got under his skin without him planning on it.

“You’re not one of the ones with children, right?”

Anong smiled softly. “You know what I do for a living.”

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[hutchhitched]

The Vintage Joshifer Series: End of Love—Chapter 20

End of Love by hutchhitched

Hey, all! For those of you still interested in this story and/or Joshifer, I’ve finally finished it! This is the penultimate chapter. Chapter 21 will post next Tuesday. It’s already written, so no delay this time. I am beyond grateful my muse chose to grace during the month of July, and I’m equally thrilled to put this story to rest after next week. Even though the events in this chapter took place a little over five decades ago, current unrest in New York, Oregon, and a number of other places are reminiscent of the struggles of those years ago. It’s disheartening, but this story has always been a little too close to current events. I know I’ve said this often, but the fight’s not over.

Historical events in this chapter include the following:

The Stonewall Riots began on June 28, 1969 at the Stonewall Inn, a well-known gay bar, in Greenwich Village in New York City. Gay patrons, tired of frequent police mistreatment and brutality, fought back when police raided the bar. The struggle evolved into a six day civil rights protest and ushered in what is known as “gay pride.” The words of Jennifer’s news report comes from an article in the New York Times on June 28, 1970. I took some artistic license by including it a year prior in the story.

WNBC is the local NBC affiliate for New York City. It gained its call letters in 1960.

There was a massive presence of African American trans activists involved in the Stonewall Riots. I don’t include that in Josh’s experience because I wanted to keep him close to his friend’s character in the story, but intersectionality studies have done a wonderful job at providing a better look at the true historical picture of Stonewall.

The Stonewall Inn is still a working bar in New York City. I was able to visit in the days following the legalization of gay marriage in the United States in June 2015.

Last but not least, the Woodstock Music Festival took place in August 1969 near Bethel, New York. It was a three day music festival that was the pinnacle of the counterculture movement in the United States.

New York City, New York, June 1969

 “Where’s your friend’s place?” Connor asked as he and Josh exited the subway and onto Seventh Avenue. “I’m ready to put this bag down and get to the bar.”

 Josh grinned at his younger brother as they hoofed it south to Andre’s apartment. It had been much too long since Josh had experienced all the city had to offer, and he was looking forward to trying to forget his broken heart in booze and weed and meaningless sex. As if any of that actually dulled the pain he felt every time he thought about Jennifer. Which was every second of every single day.

 “Quit being so impatient. We’ve got nothing else to do besides party for days. Happy graduation, bro,” he said with a clap on Connor’s shoulder. “And we’re here.”

 Andre buzzed them up, and Josh tried to hide his happiness at being reunited with his friend. They hadn’t seen each other since the concert in New Haven before… Before he went back to Chicago and fell into domestic bliss with Jennifer and lost himself in the process. If he could figure out how to go back and do it over, he would, but the fact was that he wasn’t a good boyfriend. Monogamy wasn’t his thing, and nothing about the months he’d spent in the Midwest made him think he could balance his personal life with activism. He wasn’t good at splitting his attention between two things, especially when one was a leggy blonde whose pussy made him want to worship between her legs for days. Besides that, he was in love with her, and it scared the shit out of him.

 “Good to see you, man,” Andre huffed through their hug. “I need a catch up on everything since we last talked. Been out in Cali with your bro, huh?”

 “Yeah, Andre you remember Connor. Connor, Andre. Out at Stanford with him. Just trying to find my way back.”

 “Back to what?”

 “Let’s smoke a bowl first. Then I’ll tell you. It’s too much right now.”

 An hour later, the three were sprawled across the living room as smoke hung heavy in the air. Josh felt his bones dissolve and his head float into a happy space, one where he wasn’t a fuck up or a failure. Instead, he was that idealistic kid from Kentucky who genuinely believed he could change the world, shape it into something that was just for everyone, including Andre and his own  brother, who’d come out since Josh joined him in Stanford. He hadn’t wasted 1968 in bed with Jenn. He hadn’t failed to help change the minds of those who looked down on others as inferior.

 “I went to Chicago. You know that,” he spoke into the haze swirling above his head. “I found her. She was beautiful. Is beautiful, and she’s so talented. So much more herself than she was at Berkeley. I’m so proud of her. She’s a reporter on the local NBC station. Reported on the DNC protests and made a name for herself, but me… Things didn’t go so well for me. Chicago chewed me up and spit me out and ruined me. She ruined me. Except she didn’t. She saved me. I lost myself, and I was dragging her down with me. I couldn’t do that to her. I had to leave, to give her space to really shine, and to figure out how the fuck to find myself again because I’m so lost. I don’t know how to fight anymore. How to stand up for what’s right when I know I’m not doing that for her. I don’t deserve her, man. I don’t, and I couldn’t drag her down anymore. So, I left. I wrote a note, and I ran. Haven’t talked to her since.”

 His voice trailed into silence, but the music continued to pulse. Andre nodded, clearly working through the information, and Connor closed his eyes and rolled his head from side to side. Nothing Josh had said made him feel any better. All he’d done was be honest about his actions. He wasn’t looking for approval, and he wasn’t looking for advice. The best thing he could do was leave her alone to succeed and thrive on her own.

 He told himself that later that night when he picked up a woman in the bar and fucked her in the bathroom. He repeated that mantra when his brother decided to return to California and leave him in New York to find a job. He insisted he was being honest with himself when he switched on the local news and realized Jen had transferred to New York. And then he reiterated it when he agreed to join Andre for drinks at the Stonewall Inn.

 ****

 Josh swept his dark hair out of his eyes and pulled it back into a ponytail. He chuckled at the thought of what his dad would say if he saw his elder son’s hairstyle. Chris had always been loving and supportive outside of his frustration over his injury, but that didn’t mean he thought men should wear long hair. It was shaggier than Josh was used to. At some point, he needed a haircut, but he couldn’t seem to justify paying for something so mundane when there were a million other things that were more important. He was itching for a cause to support in a meaningful way, and it felt like something was coming.

 The air itself was heavy. New York City in the summer was often full of heat and humidity and that day was no different. The temperatures hung in the mid-90s well into the later afternoon as he made his way south through Greenwich Village toward the gay bar Andre frequented.

 It felt good to be in the city. Even though he’d never lived there, it felt right somehow to be in the cradle of counterculture, even if he’d gotten a little too comfortable with the status quo during his months in Chicago.

 Seven months since he’d seen her in person. He still couldn’t think about what she’d felt when she found his note, how she’d crumbled when she realized he wasn’t coming back. He knew she’d been waiting for it. Despite his irresponsible actions and inability to commit, he understood Jen better than he did himself. She’d known he was going to run, had been preparing for it the entire time they’d spent together, and he’d proven her right.

 Being without her was terrible for him, but it was everything she deserved. She was too good for him, always had been. Even when she was spoiled and selfish, she’d had class and an innate kindness that he’d never be able to emulate. Josh strolled the last short distance with a wry grin gracing his face. He allowed himself the length of the block to beat himself up, and then he plastered on a smile and waltzed through the door of the Stonewall Inn.

 The bar was dark with bulky furniture and a long row of stools framing the shiny wooden counter. Bartenders pulled beer and mixed drinks quickly and served them with flirtatious smirks that elicited copious tips. Andre called his name from the back, and Josh twisted his way through laughing groups of men who were finally able to relax in a world that wasn’t ready to accept them.

 “My man,” he said as he tugged Andre into a hug and was then introduced to the rest of the group. He tried to remember their names, but the words were lost in the din of the club. He ordered a beer and sat back to listen as his friend interacted with the other men.

 “Things are worse,” Andre insisted. “There hasn’t been a raid in a while, but it’s only a matter of time before the pigs show up again.”

 “It’s shit,” another man agreed and tucked his blonde hair behind his ears. “Sometimes I wonder if we ought to do something about it. Fight back next time or take it to the streets.”

 Andre seemed more relaxed than Josh had ever seen him as the group discussed the political climate of the nation. Advances in equal rights for a number of groups hinted that change could be in the near future for gays and lesbians, too, but it was understandable that the bar’s patrons didn’t trust the nation’s power structures. And why would they? There’d been so little progress for the gay community since McCarthyism and the oppression of the decade before.

 Josh lost track of time as he drank and listened. He contributed when he felt like he had something to say, but he mostly enjoyed hearing about the movement from insiders instead of trying to insert himself. Despite his close friendship with Andre and his own brother’s coming out a few months prior, he didn’t have a lot of contact with men who were attracted to other men. He’d always loved the female form, although he’d considered sexual attraction to the same sex. Somehow, it had never happened, and he didn’t feel like forcing something would do any good. He’d rather be supportive of those who had those feelings that try to be someone he wasn’t.

 A tussle by the door caught his attention. Andre and the others at the table tensed, and Josh felt the hair on his arms rise. Something was happening, although he wasn’t sure what.

 “It’s a raid,” Andre muttered as he rose and pushed Josh behind him.

 “What do you mean?”

 “I mean, it’s a raid. The pigs are here.”

 Josh watched in disbelief as police swarmed into the bar and yelled at the patrons. Drinks spilled, and men scrambled as police batons emerged and landed on those sitting at the bar. Time seemed to slow down, and he watched in disbelief as a brawl broke out in front of him. He’d drunk too much; that much was clear, but he felt like he was in a dream. Drifting along beside Andre, he joined the protest, raising his voice next to his friend and others he didn’t know. He yelled and marched and raised his fist as the streets became a battleground. He watched as those around him sparked with pride and celebrated their liberation.

 He hadn’t felt the rush of working for something that mattered for so long, and it felt amazing. This wasn’t his personal fight, but it also was. What could be more personal than standing against police brutality and for the rights of everyone?

 As the sun rose over the horizon, Andre and he stumbled home and slept for a few hours before rejoining the fray. For the next three days, he felt himself coming alive. When the police beat him, he curled in on himself and ignored the pain, and when it was all over, he lay in Andre’s apartment and realized he had to stop running. He’d left Chicago because he wasn’t worthy of Jen’s love, and he’d done nothing in the seven months since to change that. He needed a purpose, and he had to stop waiting for one to come to him. Instead, he had to go find it.

 ****

 But then suddenly she was there on his television—Andre’s television—and he forgot everything except how much he missed her. He gaped at the screen as she talked and tried to quell the ache in his gut.

 “…today’s remnants of the riots from Greenwich Village. A reminder, thousands of young men and women homosexuals from all over the Northeast marched from the Village to the Sheep Meadow in Central Park three days ago, proclaiming ‘the new strength of pride of the gay people.’ This movement, which some are calling gay pride, rejects the oppression of gay men and women and demands equal treatment and respect in society and under the law.

 Thousands have taken to the streets, marching and protesting against police brutality and raids of gay bars and clubs. I’ve spoken to a number of protestors, and each reminds me that this movement has been long in the making. Stay tuned for further coverage. In the Village, I’m Jennifer Lawrence for WNBC, Channel 4.”

 “That a girl,” he murmured as the screen faded from her to the anchor in the studio.

 She looked amazing. A little more mature and stylish than she’d been in Chicago but also happy and confident. The slightly nervous energy she’d always portrayed on the screen in the Midwest seemed to have evaporated on the East Coast, and it was a good look on her.

 “Was that her?” Andre asked lazily, his grin visible from the dim corner. “That’s your chick?”

 “Yeah, that’s her,” he breathed.

 Andre took a hit and passed a bud to him, and Josh inhaled twice sharply. It took a few minutes, but the marijuana did exactly what he wanted, which was to loosen him up and relax. He couldn’t believe they were in the same city again, and he wondered briefly if they were drawn to each other unintentionally or if there were cosmic forces at work to reunite them. How could he explain to anyone that two people who lived in Kentucky ended up halfway across the country together at college in California, reunited and lived together in the Midwest, and then landed in the same city on the East Coast?

 Well, now he needed to get his shit together. The only problem was he had no idea how other than following his calling. He was an activist. That was part of him down to the marrow in his bones, and she was still a reporter. How was he ever going to reconcile that restless, never satisfied portion of him when Jenn was a part of the system? How could he fight “the man” when the woman he loved was part of it?

 “I can see the wheels turning, Hutch. What’s going on in that big, beautiful brain of yours?”

 Josh sighed and swiveled his head to face his friend. “I’ve never been good enough for her. I don’t know what to do except leave her alone, but I can’t stand being without her.”

 “You know, you don’t have to give up everything for a cause, especially when it’s not your own.”

 “They’re all my causes,” Josh protested. “Just because I’m not oppressed doesn’t mean I shouldn’t work for change.”

 “Just because oppression exists doesn’t mean you should martyr yourself.”

 Josh started to retort but snapped his jaw shut. The words hit hard and low in his stomach. His friend was right. Denying himself happiness wasn’t helping anyone else, and it certainly hadn’t made his or Jennifer’s lives any better. He’d broken both their hearts for far too long, and he had to figure out how to make it right.

 “You’re right, man. I know you are, but I’m just not there yet,” Josh sighed. “I think, though, that I might need to move here once I am.”

 “Always a spot here for you, Hutch.” After a few minutes of silence, Andre added, “There’s talk of an event here in a few months. Think you could stick around and facilitate planning? Might help you get your mind right, and then you can head back to California to see your brother and get the rest of your stuff.”

 “Yeah, I can do that, I guess. What is it?”

 “A concert. Somewhere upstate.”

 “A concert?”

 “Not just a concert. It’s a movement. Days of music, and all of us communing with nature.”

 Josh rolled it around in his mind for a few minutes. It sounded like something to occupy his time while he got himself together. The next day he met with the planners of an event they affectionately referred to as Woodstock.

 ****

 “Josh, I can’t tell you how much of a help you’ve been during this,” his boss said as they moved a stack of flyers into a crate. “I wasn’t sold when Andre asked me to take you on, but your creative ideas have been stellar.”

 “Just trying to help out however I can,” he responded. “Glad to have something to do that might help the cause.”

 “Every little thing helps. Now, you’re off for the week. Go enjoy some good music upstate. I’ll see you behind the scenes.”

 Josh gave a two-fingered salute and made his way back to Andre’s apartment. They were hitching a ride with some other friends and making their way north to the festival, and he still had to pack before they could leave. He was almost there when he decided to pop into the corner bodega and grab some food. Who knew what kind of opportunities there would be to eat with however many people showed up in Bethel? They’d had to change locations not long ago and they’d tried to plan for all eventualities, but that didn’t mean Josh couldn’t bring some extra sustenance.

 “Always be prepared,” he said to himself with a laugh and turned the corner. He stopped dead in his tracks. Not a hundred feet away was a woman with long blonde wavy hair. “Jennifer?”

 He chased after her, but he quickly realized it wasn’t her. The same thing happened at the festival several times. Woodstock was a gas, a writhing throng of bodies with music that transcended him and made him fly with happiness. For the first time in a while, he felt like he knew himself. He’d helped plan it. He’d thought ahead to bring food when so many others wasted time searching for dinner. He was surrounded by friends and people of like mind. The lack of restrooms and facilities to bathe didn’t bother him. That could all wait until he returned to the city, which came much too soon.

 Back at Andre’s, he smoked weed while he took a long, soothing bath. He jacked off lazily and let his mind drift to a slew of different times he’d been with Jen. He fantasized and planned and finally came to the realization that he needed to head back to California to tie up loose ends and spend time with his brother. Connor would help him focus. Being back where he and Jennifer had first met and fallen in love seemed like a good idea.

 “Tomorrow,” he decided. “I’ll buy my ticket. California, here I come.”