#and that solidarity… well. think with me. what does it mean for a Somewhat Alive computer and a robot to be created in succession

[coalballbaby]

does anybody else think about how the aequitas computer is kind of springer’s sibling. “sibling” with heavy heavy heavy quotations because the concept of family we know of is completely arbitrary with tfs and I really don’t like using it often in fact I regret it

[burgerrat]

@hofnarrofficial said: gimme everything you got just bury me alive (only if thats possible ofc lmao)

Ok.

Turbo's favourite movie is Herbie: Fully Loaded

He has ALWAYS been flamboyant/effeminate like you see King Candy being. I hate seeing people portray Turbo as this perpetually grumpy/angry bitter person all the time all because of the revelation scene being the one 'real scene' we have of Turbo in his original form. The reason why Ralph wouldn't recognize the similar behaviour pattern is because he didn't know Turbo well enough since he rarely ever left his own game unless it was to go to Tapper's to have a root beer and brag about winning to anyone who'd listen (mainly Felix). Need a 'draw/write Turbo being silly and goofy like King Candy is' solidarity.

Contrary to popular belief, he does like the color pink- he just has a very specific preference for that particular salmon shade of pink.

Turbo and the twins all had racecar beds to sleep in back in TurboTime.

Candybug's desire to take over the entire arcade at the end of the movie is his new cy-bug coding speaking; all Turbo has ever wanted is to race again and be in the spotlight. He would struggle to control his bug instincts not just in terms of resisting beacons of light but also in terms of acting upon intrusive thoughts in general. Mix that with anger and hopelessness that he'll likely never be able to drive again in this new form and you've got the perfect recipe for disaster, because what more does he have to lose?

Do not misunderstand: I too dislike the trope of 'he's just misunderstood' since that is far from the truth, but that doesn't mean he can't have moments where you feel empathy for him (at least in my case): you are programmed to be the protagonist of your world, the best, that is your sole purpose in the life you have. You become addicted to the attention you recieve- foolishly not thinking once that it's possible that may not be the same thing tomorrow. Once that is suddenly taken away, you don't understand why- you're the best. And because you are the best, instead of processing your losses normally, you won't let go. You're instead determined to take back what was rightfully yours. By any means possible. Making the biggest mistake of your life- you kill not just your neighbors but your own home out of impulse. You are to blame for the choice you took- guilt becomes rage, rage becomes bitterness, bitterness becomes calculative; why cry over spilled milk? The damage is done, and your code is desperately crying out to do what you were made to do: race. All you can do is start anew... don't dwell on the past if you want to have the spotlight again, processing your mistake doesn't matter anyway; and so, once a new racing game is in town- you'd be frothing at the mouth to hop in after decades of isolation, wouldn't you? You'd do anything, if you were that desperate and awfully selfish.

This leads us to the following: Turbo had a mental breakdown during his years of isolation, mainly because he was unable to race; this is why he laughs and giggles no matter the mood he's in as King Candy. It's a form of tic.

This might be a bit OOC? But whatever. Hilariously enough King Candy is a somewhat decent(take that with a grain of salt, I'll elaborate in a moment) fatherly figure: he treats the SR racers like they're his adopted kids. I say somewhat decent because of course he completely excludes Vanellope and because he picks favourites; Taffyta, Rancis and Candlehead are his golden children and because of that, he's sometimes willing to swallow his pride and let them cross the finish line before him.

Taffyta is VERY competitive and sometimes will get unreasonably aggressive to win and that's something KC admires in her because it reminds him so much of himself and the bond he used to have with the Twins, especially when competing. Another reason why Taffyta bullies Vanellope is because she knows King Candy dislikes her wish to compete and she feels like this is something that would please him regardless of his approval of it.

Again maybe kind of OOC-ish but I sincerely don't think Turbo outright hates Vanellope herself like. As a person; she has done nothing, but she does pose a threat to blowing his cover and he is not going to allow her. The one thing that bothers him a lot about her is her stubborness to race and always finding a way to weasel into the Random Roster Race. During the tunnel scene where he straight up becomes violent towards her, you can tell she's never seen him this angry to her before; this leads me to believe he never blew up on her before because, regardless of how much of a threat she posed for him; in his mind- he figured she likely would never really be in a situation where she would actually cross the finish line, and she's just a child, so why bother? Of course. That is until she sprints right past him on the race track and the rest is history. (And I have to clarify again I AM NOT justifying his actions; there is no 'justifying' any of it. This is an observation because of the reactions/expressions/etc. seen in the scene.)

Writing that previous hc reminded me of this and I just had to include it because I can SO see this happening 😭 it's hilarious and wholesome in a way.

I saw something about this on @king-crawler 's blog and I feel like I should bring this up bc it rubbed me the wrong way: I donno about you but to me, Turbo programming himself as King of Sugar Rush is not ego thing (not the main reason behind it at least!); it's to avoid suspicion in general within the game because ALL of the SR racers are children. It would be suspicious and really fuckin' weird to have a character programmed as an adult that isn't an NPC/side-character like Sour Bill or the donut cops to just be among them like nothing, regardless if he wipes their memories they (or other candy subjects) will question it. He's not stupid, in the game there's supposed to be a royal figure, no? So, it'd make perfect sense for that figure to be a supposedly 'wise' King that looks after all his subjects and makes sure rules aren't broken. So to me it's less of something done out of selfishness and more of just being able to go by unnoticed, he programmed himself as King to fit in with the whole 'monarchy' concept within SR. At the end of the movie when Vanellope says she doesn't want to be a princess, you get a little glimpse of how much the candy subjects depend and rely on a 'higher figure' to function.

As King Candy, he believes himself to be cute. (adding this side note just in case bc I shit you not this is genuinely something people have argued and mocked me over: don't come at me for this. I have my opinion, you have yours and I'm not going to change it for you; as a fan for a whole decade who has known in tge past other fans, there ARE people that find him cute as I do /gen /lh) He shamelessly indulges in that and he WILL use that as a manipulation tactic to get what he wants- sometimes playing with your emotions as well by tugging at your heart strings and overall painting himself to be a 'frail silly old man' in sn exaggerated manner so you'll give in to whatever he wants- and once you agree suddenly the 'frail' old monarch has an outburst of energy and joy, completely shedding off this fragile-pitiful facade.

Turbo has somehow rescued the Turbo Twins before his game was unplugged and I have evidence to prove this:

He has their codes tucked into his own (bad example I know but kind of like how an opossum mom keeps her joeys in her pouch); he keeps them in a dormant state this way by not allowing them to have separate code boxes of their own. The reasons behind this are simple: he doesn't want two characters that very obviously don't belong in the game to roam around freely, he has enough trouble with Vanellope as it is; and he knows that if he lets them awaken and respawn, they will criticize him for the path he chose to go down- and he doesn't want to deal with that because, for him, it would be pointless and it'd only bring frustration he doesn't need. He would rather keep them as ghosts of the past hidden in his pocket.

Speaking of Vanellope: Turbo is awfully envious of her driving skills, she's the first racer that has bested him on the track. Another selfish reason why he doesn't want her to race- goodness forbid a child beating you at what you're passionate about and arriving in second place.

When overly emotional- be it positive or negative feelings- King Candy would sometimes temporarily glitch back to his original form as Turbo because his code is old, filled to the brim with stuff, it's bound to have a few crack and tears here and there, like an old but still functioning car with a rusty engine; this issue has only accentuated after the glitching-exchange during the tunnel scene.

Speaking of which- because there were little to no censorships in 70's videogames, Turbo bleeds. It's pixelated blood because it cannot be processed through the programming of Sugar Rush since the game was not made to have any graphic themes in it. If one of the racers gets hurt- they quite literally just bleed coding.

Turbo often smokes.

Turbo sometimes gets sick of eating nothing but candy and will send out Sour Bill to get him something salty to eat from another game. He has his own little stack of junk food and other non-sweets within the castle.

He's not just the King of Candy, he's THE LORD OF THE DANCE! (watch at your own risk I warn you /hj)

CURSED JOKES ASIDE I unironically like to think he is a good dancer. Nobody beats him at tap-dancing and The Bus Stop. (He's from the 70's so it'd make sense he's familiar with a lot of funky/disco dance moves)

[fell-contract]

fell-contract's 2024 Albums

#3: c,xoxo - Camila Cabello

Trust me, I've been trying to wrap my head around justifying this placement for months. As someone prone to chronic introspection, I spend a lot of time trying to figure out why certain albums resonate more with me vs. the perceived consensus. This year it was c,xoxo, an album from an artist I’ve generally found artistically whelming at best. So what is it that seemed to ensnare me here? While I’ve been tempted to dismiss it as blonde hyperfemme styling and some new collaborators makes gay brain go brr, it would be an unfortunate downplaying of how much the music here connected with me. Indulge me in the alternative that c,xoxo is a bit misunderstood.

c,xoxo is at its core a tribute to Miami, Florida and Cabello’s own coming of age within its culture. This would all make for a vaguely interesting yet vacuous concept if there wasn’t such an obvious understanding of atmosphere. The heat and haze of Miami is dripping off of this album: fights on Biscayne Boulevard blend into nights of feminine solidarity and taunting past flames, lonely walks from a remote motel to the beach a conduit for fantasies of reacquainted connection. More specifically, c,xoxo is about a woman lost in her own coming of age. The undercurrent of nihilism is probably the album’s biggest subtle strength: the last lyric of the standard album is ‘always been a problem’, a stark admission of unmoored insecurity. This degree of self admonishment was a surprise for me and ultimately what kept me turning this album over like a stone: what does it mean to admit you only exist in someone’s life as a source of pain? There’s refreshing levity to this narrative in the deluxe edition that dropped months later with new closer "Godspeed", where Cabello ejects herself from the cycle and chooses to walk away. As simple as it is, “I wish you well but far away from me” is a satisfying conclusion to the intentional loose ends of the standard edition. Additionally, it was the delayed release of the bonus tracks that converted me from tentative, somewhat ironic enjoyment to genuine appreciation.

What also captivated me about c,xoxo was the intentionally nebulous approach to songwriting. The songs here are built as sketches, broad strokes of color that evoke the scenery of Miami and establish a fully formed persona within it that Cabello had yet to realize in past works. While the lyricism is hardly moving the needle on confessional songwriting it’s still noticeably sharper. From my knowledge of her career, Camila has largely played it straight as a singer-songwriter approach, sacrificing singularity for safety. Here there seems to be a purposeful loss of clarity. Cabello described this as an album about questions without answers and I think that’s what has compelled me to spend as much time with it as I have. At 31 years old I don’t feel like I had any more answers than I did at 21, it’s just that I’m comfortable now not knowing.

This is complemented by some of the best productions of the year. El Guincho is in top form across the album, painting vivid soundscapes where these lyrical abstractions can flourish. The most obvious example here is "Dade County Dreaming" with that demented synth like a hydra emerging to flatten Florida before a ridiculously hooky verse from JT set to piano (!!), but that’s not to discount the propulsive synth work on "Hot Uptown", the hypnotic vocal distortion of He Knows and of course the inspired Pitbull sample on "B.O.A.T." My personal favorite is "baby pink", a shimmering missile of fragmented memory and lost connection that unravels with possibility like an open highway.

Credit where it’s due to Cabello’s own commitment to the vocals across the album. It’s the biggest difference maker on "Come Show Me", a fairly standard bouncy bop that comes alive in its second half with the barely contained glee of her squealing out lines about belly chains, sake and Anna Wintour. Whether it’s the breathless yelp on the chorus of "B.O.A.T.", the feminine exuberance of "DREAM-GIRLS", the wistful sigh of "can friends kiss?" or the delicacy of "Twentysomethings", she’s singing these songs like it’s the album she’s always wanted to make. 

The album’s faults largely lie not in the artist’s performance but rather with how this album was presented. The material is done a disservice by the label mandated table setting of the features: the ones that work are tucked into album tracks, while the center of the album as it was presented were endorsements from Koshi and a disgraced Drake. They’re superfluous on the best day and actively detrimental on a bad one. The intentions here are made even more confusing by Cabello’s own impression of how the album would be released: "baby pink" is the only song to explicitly reference the album title and seemingly was intended for the standard, while "Godspeed" was referenced as ‘the first song where I thought oh we’re making an album.’ I’ve admittedly not played the standard album as it was released since first listen, but this speaks more to the frustrating lack of faith the label seemed to have with this sort of artistic pivot. There’s enough of a case made for Cabello’s reinvention by the rest of the songs, so it’s an unfortunate if understandable sticking point that the album was dismissed at large for these decisions. Still, look past the window dressing and you might find the album I did, one that finally makes a compelling case for Camila Cabello as an artist in the current pop landscape.

As for my own relationship with the album, I’ll concede that it’s been a matter of right time, right place: I was in Florida when the album dropped and it was like this feverish collage of my immediate reality: memories of being stoned in the passenger seat with the sunroof down set to that dental drill hook on "I Luv It", late night ruminations to "B.O.A.T." as I reconciled my frayed relationship with my parents, early morning gym sessions with "Dade County Dreaming" flooding my headphones, or an overcast morning driving back to reality with "June Gloom" playing as we left the coast. These are crystallized as some of my favorite moments of the year, and I can’t divorce that enough to look at this with full objectivity. Stubborn as I am, I can’t imagine I’d admit it even if I was capable. So instead, here’s an overlong write-up for an album that means a lot to me. Sometimes that’s all we can do.

For what it's worth, here's how I listen to the album.

[riacte]

I’m going to put some thoughts about MCCP Pink Parrots under the cut (not all are positive, so if you don’t want me to be a party pooper please don’t read)

I know people (*cough* Twitter) have issues with this team because they’re all Cis Het White Males and one made a “lesbiophobic joke” five years ago or something. I agree that it’s probably better to “split the clout” to uplift other creators, especially with three (3) Clout People in the same team (unlike the infamous Pink8 which only had Two Clout People), but I understand why Scott made this decision.

This team feels almost specifically made to hype people up, and the combination will attract people to watch and donate, thus raising more money. While representation is good, I think money raised to practically help people > representation this time. Because this is a charity Pride stream, not just a Pride stream. Raising money is the focus here. Famous cishet white male allies can raise a lot of money. Money can help people. These are all facts whether you like it or not. And if you want to see more LGBTQA+ creators in MCC, support them. If you don’t like a certain creator, don’t watch their team. The end.

Don’t know too much about the other three, but I think Grian is good at hosting charity streams. I’ve watched his Love Tropics stream with Iskall (2019?), the first SOS Africa stream with Ren (2020), the MCC 9 stream (2020), and the second SOS Africa stream with Ren, Bdubs, and Scar (2021). Throughout the streams, Grian is consistently respectful and humble. He urges his viewers to donate by patiently talking about the cause in simple terms (since he knows a lot of kids watch him) but without being patronising. Grian also loves putting numbers into things people can measure (eg. How many hot meals can this sum of money buy, if everyone watching right now donated $1 we can reach our goal). Grian also knows his privilege and mentions he’s just a well off guy playing video games in a comfortable place. When Ren thanked him for supporting his fellow South Africans, Grian replied with “we’re all human”. So I believe Grian will spend a lot of his MCCP stream urging viewers to donate, reading out donations, appreciating donations, etc etc. Grian knows his influence and knows how to use it for good. Someone on Twitter mentioned Grian seemed like the type of person to skip this MCC to give more slots for other creators, and I agreed, but then Grian probably thought he could use his influence for good (considering he had MAJOR success for all his past charity streams).

So all in all, I do think this team can raise a lot of money for a good cause. I am okay with this team. But personally I still have some slight issues that probably don’t matter much, but I need to get them out because it’s been eating me alive. All of these so-called “issues” have to do with fanbases, not CCs. Just because I don’t like part of a CCs’ fanbase doesn’t mean I don’t like the CC.

1. This team will probably intensify the “Grian Is The Only Hermit” phenomenon.

A lot of famous CCs only seem to know Grian out of everybody in Hermitcraft (despite False being in every MCC since debut except the non canon ones). They are somewhat akin to the “Grian Only Hermitcraft Watchers”/ “Grumbo YouTube Stan Army”. There’s nothing wrong with knowing Grian only, or only watching Grian, but most of the times the gigantic population of “Grian Only Stans” will neglect Literally Every Other Hermit (except maybe Mumbo). Even when Grian teams with hermits. Hermitcraft fans are mostly used to this bullshit, and they just nicely try to introduce Grian Only Stans to other hermits (which works most of the time).

So to Techno and Wilbur’s fans (I assume Jimmy’s fans are quite familiar with Grian), they’ll go “omg Grian!! Builder!!! Hermitcrafter!!”. This will introduce a bunch of people to Grian/ Hermitcraft (which is great!) but it has a good chance of evolving into the good ole “Grian is the only hermit that matters” thing. Simply because of popularity.

I actually wanted False-Grian-Techno-Wilbur, because Techno and Wilbur actually know False. Techno of course acknowledged her in Dodgebolt, and False and Wilbur have a surprisingly long history of trolling/ annoying each other (from MCC5-9). Wilbur notably trolled Yellow8 and Blue9 by covering up the letters on their uniforms (both hermit teams WITHOUT GRIAN), and when Grian ignored Wilbur around MCC7 Battle Box, Wilbur chose to annoy False instead. False in return seems to notice Wilbur a tiny bit more than general MCC participants (another one she notices is Fundy), such as being amused/annoyed when he overtakes her in Ace Race and gleefully cheering when Wilbur falls.

False is probably the hermit/ hermit adjacent sans Mr Golden Boi Grian with the most “connections” to SBI, Techno and Wilbur know her (Techno forgot about her in MCC 11 but whatever), and she can deal with the three clout people. Which brings me to the next point.

2. Jimmy Solidarity my beloved…

Naturally, Jimmy has already been neglected because he’s the only one who doesn’t have a lot of “clout”. This is different from the last megaclout team Pink8, because Michael and Burren could “lack clout” together. This time, Jimmy doesn’t have anyone with a similar popularity with him. Red10 made me a little more concerned (viewers have pointed out he seems a little bit neglected by the rest of his teammates, especially during DB when they were shittalking Jimmy’s friends).

CCs wise, they will probably/ hopefully be nice and kind (I say hopefully because I cannot trust anyone from DSMP other than HBomb), everyone will get along, no one will be excluded, everyone is happy.

The toxic fans will probably be rabid towards Jimmy (by extension Grian) if they make even a slight mistake, which is why I’m worried about putting a small/medium sized creator with the BIG BIG creators. But, eh. Toxic people will be toxic no matter what. This isn’t an issue exclusive to Pink Parrots.

3. Clashing attitudes?

Hermits and their friends advocate arrow split. Techno does not. What will happen if this team gets to Dodgebolt? Previously, Grian has always been on “arrow split” teams and greatly enjoyed them. Scott has taken care to put people with similar attitudes together. Now what? I have hope that they’re all mature and can compromise, but eh. Grian is strongly against arrow funnelling and calls it not-gentlemanly. I feel Techno will probably let Grian have a few shots since this is a for fun MCC, but what if they get teamed again for some competitive MCC? They’ll probably work it out, but what might their fanbases think?

To conclude, big fanbases = big benefits + big problems. This is not exclusive to Pink Parrots. In fact, I think this is probably the best mix of builders and clout people for this scenario (I personally do not want to see False-Puffy or Ren-Dream). Techno and Wilbur’s fanbases are already the nicer part of the DSMP fanbase.

The most important part is raising money of course, and the silly “issues” I mentioned above don’t mean anything in comparison. Why care about online matters when the money can help people in the real world?

That being sad, I was just a tiny bit salty and I had to get this out. Nonetheless I’m happy about this team, will definitely be interesting (selfishly hope they don’t win because Twitter will be mad a team of cishets won). Anyways, if you’ve read up to here, thank you for reading my ramblings.

[shemakesmusic-uk]

Jorja Smith has unveiled a standout new video for latest track ‘By Any Means’. The powerful video (directed by Otis Dominique and Ellington Hammond) shines a spotlight on communities across the UK, complimenting the track’s vital message around social issues and the civil rights movement. As noted by Jorja about the track: "The inspiration behind 'By Any Means' really came from going to the Black Lives Matter protest and leaving thinking, what can I do to keep this conversation going? It’s not just a post on social media, it's life.” ‘By Any Means’ is the first track to be unveiled from a new project titled ‘Reprise’, curated by the team at Roc Nation with the sole aim of bringing awareness to social justice issues. A portion of proceeds will go to funding organisations that support victims of police brutality, hate crimes, and other violations of civil rights. [via Dork]

Madison, WI-bred and Chicago-based band Slow Pulp recently announced Moveys, their self-produced debut album, and shared its first single 'Idaho.' Now the band shares another song off of the forthcoming record, entitled 'Falling Apart.' The track, featuring Alex G collaborator Molly Gemer on violin, is accompanied by a fantastical music video about feeling lost in a familiar landscape. Director Jake Lazovick, places Emily in a transient world, surrounded by flying objects and missing pieces. The clip features nostalgic animations, body doubles for social distancing purposes, and an homage to Massey's background as a ballet dancer. Read more about the song from Massey below: "As we were finishing up writing the album my parents got into a serious car accident and I came back home to help take care of them. A couple of weeks later COVID-19 started getting worse in the US, and quarantine began. Life felt completely surreal, everything had drastically changed and at such a rapid pace. It was especially strange because everyone was experiencing the same thing at the same time, but couldn’t be physically with each other to support each other. I felt like I couldn’t process any emotions I had about the whole ordeal because I had to keep it together to take care of my family. It became easier to stay numb, and create a facade that I was doing ok, than it was to release any type of healthy emotion for a long time. Luckily I did allow myself to have a full on breakdown induced by a stubbed toe and confusion over taxes, sometimes it’s the littlest things that finally get you."

Soap Detox met a party, and somehow their friendship sustained during the lengthy hangover that followed. A frisky Swedish three-piece with a lust for melody and good times, their raucous garage-pop is already making waves in their homeland. A full EP is incoming, with Soap Detox trailing this with their irresistible new single 'Give Me Gore'. A three minute fuzz pop wonder, it's a clanking, cheeky, subversive statement from a group who thrive on such things. The video features their shorn-headed lead singer in full form, accompanied by her band mates. Directed by Evelyn Del Carmen and Ebba Sylvan, you can check it out above. [via Clash]

It’s been a decade since we’ve heard from multi-hyphenate musician and producer The Angel, who last made a splash as a musician in 2009 with her single 'Ultra Light,' which featured the singer/producer Jhelisa on vocals. Focusing more on her career in film/TV composition and music production in recent years, she’s planning to return to recording her own music later this year with a new LP entitled Xtra Sensory Goodness. Now we’re getting the first taste of this project, which is yet another collaboration with the vocalist Jhelisa. “Jhelisa and I have become close friends over the years,” she explains. “There’s a lot of sisterly love and mutual respect between us, so Jhelisa already understood the mournful weight of the track before I asked to feature her. I’m always grateful that she’s willing to experiment with me because it’s not something she does lightly. Jhelisa beautifully channels the essence of whatever emotion needs to come through in the most evocative and visceral way.”  The song arrives beautifully packaged with an entrancing video directed by none other than Mark Pellington (along with co-directors Sergio Pinheiro and Sweeten), known for his concert docs for Pearl Jam, INXS, and The Flaming Lips, as well as an extensive music-videography including iconic visuals for Public Enemy, Nine Inch Nails, and plenty more artists. “I wanted the song to sound like a memory, like you’ve entered someone else’s dream space,” The Angel continues, noting how the video perfectly syncs to the song’s mood. “The emotion is contained, very internal, so I juxtaposed a vocal vulnerability against a driving, incessant rhythm, where you can feel the underlying tension at the same time as experiencing the gentle plea, ‘Where’s my shelter…?’” [via Flood]

A few weeks ago, Ciara gave birth to her son Win. Last night, she shared a video that she evidently recorded while she was very, very pregnant. Ciara’s new song 'Rooted' is a statement of Black pride, a clear statement of solidarity with the protest movement that’s swept across America and the rest of the world these past few months. It’s a hard, kinetic track with vocals from the songwriter Esther Dean. But the song, at least right now, feels more like a vehicle for the video. Like a lot of Ciara videos, the 'Rooted'” clip is built around bodies dancing. In this one, though, one of those bodies belongs to Ciara, who dances with her belly exposed and who looks like she’s about to give birth any second. To watch someone dance this hard while that pregnant is an actual marvel, a near-superhuman feat. The 'Rooted' video is full of Black iconography, and it features the faces of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor. All throughout, Ciara presents an image of motherly strength. Annie Bercy directs. [via Stereogum]

Hazel English releases the new video for her single ‘Five And Dime’ taken from her debut album Wake UP! which is out now on Marathon Artists. ‘Five and Dime’ is a woozy, idyllic view into Hazel’s world, which is built on timeless-sounding melodies, retro-tinged soundscapes and a knack for resonant lyrics. The mid-tempo number is reminiscent of the playful love songs of ’60s pop, as Hazel frustratedly muses on a love interest who is consuming her thoughts and detracting from her focus, “Gotta get away cause you’re taking up all of my time / You know I need my space so I’m heading to the Five and Dime.” Speaking about the new video, Hazel says: “'Five and Dime' is about longing for escape and freedom so I thought it would be fun to create an idyllic beach vacation, constructed from a set with cardboard cut out waves and fake palm trees. The idea behind it is that while I'm fantasizing about escaping to a tropical place, it's clear I'm just kind of stuck in this pretend version of it. I wanted to evoke the nostalgia of Hollywood musicals from the '50s and '60s, complete with dance choreography and bright colourful costumes.”

Katy Perry has released her second video for 'Smile,' featuring the pop star playing a video game version of herself as she battles giant spiders, circus trapeze acts and more while dressed as a clown. Much of the video is in CGI, with a live-action Perry playing the video game in her house (while also dressed as a clown). [via Rolling Stone]

Global superstar, Miley Cyrus has unveiled 'Midnight Sky,' a track that showcases a new direction for the always evolving artist.  The song, which was inspired by the past year of her life, is accompanied by a video that Miley self-directed.  In creating the song and video, Miley drew from strong female musical icons, like Stevie Nicks, Joan Jett, and Debbie Harry, who have always been so generous, and have been her greatest allies and inspiration.  The video showcases Miley as her true self: unapologetic, diverse, sexy, confident, experimental, and strong. The video takes viewers through Miley’s creative vision which displays her complete control of the narrative often told through the mouths of the media. Miley is at peace with who she is and has nothing to prove. As a musician she continues to push boundaries and experiment with her sound and look. Miley has proven to be many things, but boring is not one of them.

Chelsea Collins is nonconformist pop singer with a vision. For the captivating new 'Water Run Dry,' a collaboration with rapper, singer and fellow Bay Area-native 24kGoldn, Collins's infectious pop melodies glide over a hypnotic beat. Relatable lyrics about a faltering relationship reveal a depth of experience for the 21-year-old, with a wistful chorus lamenting, "there's no good in goodbye." The Roxana Baldovin-directed visuals for the track are an eyeful — Collins and 24kGoldn play house in an oversized, colorful California dollhouse, interspersed with images of a little girl playing with literal Barbies. The message? "I wanted this song and video to execute the world that's inside of my head — somewhat similar to a weird vintage rom com where at first the drama of love is so toxic, passionate and thrilling but eventually my lover and I have a happy ending," Collins tells NYLON. "Unfortunately reality isn't as fun and it kinda feels like some cranky dude is controlling your path, who's lowkey salty whenever something feels too amazing," she continues. "My intuition will tell me to run, but I'm notorious for acting like a Stepford wife, trying to recreate my past feelings yet they're all super robotic. Maybe one day I'll get lucky and love won't have to be so bittersweet, but until then I'll learn to smile even when things blow up in my face." [via NYLON]

Kali Uchis shared the visuals for her latest single 'Aquí Yo Mando' on Monday. Featuring a verse in Spanglish by Rico Nasty, the single is Kali's first release since her TO FEEL ALIVE EP from earlier this year. The Phillipa Price-directed clip finds the pair on a weapons-filled rampage, dropping bodies in underground parking lots and filming each other along the way. With co-production by reggaeton hitmaker Tainy, the booming track sees Uchis assertively laying some ground rules over trappy 808s. "Haces todo lo que diga (You do everything that I say)," she raps. “Si estás conmigo solo mando yo (If you’re with me, only I call the shots).” [via The FADER]

[gunkyengines]

4, 7, and 9, for the s/i questions if you're still taking them!

Ohhhh my gods @jetsetspy I’m so sorry for answering this question so late ;-; My answers are under the cut!

4. Does your insert have a backstory? Tell us about it! How does their backstory, if any, define who they are? How does it reflect their relationships now? Their hopes and dreams?

Bellamy Amplexus – Final Fantasy XV SI

Bellamy doesn’t have much of a backstory just yet, but I do know this:

·         Their family isn’t a huge part of their life, aside from a younger sibling, who, to this day, I have not yet named.

·         They want a sense of belonging somewhere, and have a number of self-image complications (it’s not really a set of “issues” to them, because they’ve found comfort in their body and self over time, but they still have wishes about what they could be seen as—androgyny is a tough line to straddle).

·         They hate the nickname “Bella”.

·         Bells, as far as I’m concerned right now, finds their sense of belonging amongst the ‘Bros ever since they just sorta started… tagging along, I guess? It was just an act of good will from the prince and his guards and a bit of hitchhiking on Bells’ end that got them where they are now.

·         They were originally a bit of a vagabond prior to meeting up with the guys. Hitchhiking, walking absurdly long distances, camping out often, all that jazz.

Junko Hisayo – Persona 5 SI

Junko is a character who I largely based off of my late-high school self for both self insertion and coping reasons, but a few things do set her apart from me. As in, she’s a pretty close approximation, but by no means is she a direct, direct copy of me.

She’s a student at Kosei Academy, simply due to the fact that I read on the wiki that it’s speculated to be a catholic school (I was brought up in the catholic education system, so, I could find some accuracy and likeness in that), and attended meetings at both the drama and art club there. She has bitter memories of the two clubs, as she was betrayed by the one major figure in both: her childhood friend Hideo Sunjaya. Since then, she’s taken to expressing her creative outlets in circles outside of her student life, and finds her passion in writing. At the time of Persona 5 canon, she’s set on becoming an editor. In the future canon, she does in fact achieve this goal. In this way Junko’s less of a model of who I was, and instead she’s what I hope to be.

She comes from a somewhat broken home, but has a strong relationship with her mother. Despite her current disconnect, Junko feels that she owes it to her parents that she has such a good understanding of her own identity, as they were supportive when she first came out as sapphic, and continued their support when she decided to be GNC and soon after came into her identity as a demigirl.

Elizabeth Beaufort – Red Dead Redemption 2 SI

Lizzie is a pretty lighthearted simulacrum of a more feminine version of me, translated loosely into the scope of the year 1899. I’m by no means a historian, but here’s Lizzie’s life.

Elizabeth Beaufort is a born and raised resident of the town of Valentine. Her mother is whatever the RDR2 universe’s equivalent of Quebecois French is, having moved to Saint Denis due to a family matter down there, and subsequently met her father. A Valentine resident himself, he beguiled her mother and convinced her to move to Valentine and live as the wife of a livestock owner (he comes from some blue blood ‘round those parts—as mentioned by the VDL in Chapter 2, the town is a goldmine of trade).

As a lady of relative privilege, life was… well, it was what a privileged life is. Sheltered, simple, and for the most part pretty damned easy. However, her naivete wasn’t something that her mother would stand to see Elizabeth keep, as she wanted a strong daughter who wouldn’t simply bend to the hand of tradition. Would I say that Lizzie would’ve most certainly rallied with those girls in Rhodes? YES. I’d rather die than portray any iteration of myself as complacent rather than progressive lmao. Elizabeth Beaufort flows in the vein of RDR2’s… I guess, progressive* writing? More** on that below, I guess???

*I don’t actually know how well it was received by everyone else, and honestly, I’m not even gonna try to speak on anyone else’s behalf but my own—I found that RDR2, despite some shortcomings, made itself a relatively hospitable environment for me as a white queer.

** Lizzie does struggle a lot with her internalized homophobia? Like… she had a lot of difficulty when she was younger coming to terms with the fact that she’s bisexual. This is less prevalent in her backstory considering it only ever surfaces post-canon. Yes, my SI and her FO came out to each other at random after being married to him for approximately 3 months. And it went fuckin’ great cos guess what!! Theyre both bi!! WLW/MLM solidarity!!! Don’t @ me.

Gillian Wright – Red Dead Redemption 2 SI

·         Gilley was brought up amongst a gang of outlaws, and her being born a woman changed nothing about the things she was taught by said gunslingers. She left the group she once called family because of the leadership turning sour. From that point forward she went it alone, shifting in and out of her identity as Gilley Wright and her masculine persona (a pseudonym-turned-identity) Giles Kingsley, to keep herself straddling notoriety and anonymity.

·         Gilley only started wearing her hair short because of an encounter in which her longer hair was used as a means to pull her back into harm’s way. She lopped it off shortly after out of the feeling that it was a necessity, but soon found that she preferred it that way.

·         Thaddeus, her large draft horse, once pulled carts. She took him during a robbery so that she’d have an adequate mount for her getaway. The connection was instant between them.

Taeko Atou – Tokyo Ghoul OC

Taeko went by another name before her time in the 20th ward. She had another face, another life. But that was a self she had to leave far, far behind. Before “Taeko”, she was a reckless twentysomething ghoul living off of her father’s money, basking in the upper echelons of society, indulging in Scrapper shows and seeing humanity as nothing but an unprepared buffet. The danger ranking on her CCG profile demonstrated as much.

One night, however, her cushy life changed drastically. She went out drinking after a Scrapper show with one of her friends and decided to go hunting with her. Things were as usual, they stayed in their territory, but ended up getting apprehended by a group of Doves. During the getaway, her and her friend were separated, and she had no way of knowing whether her friend was alive. Drunk, desperate, and rather terrified, she decided to abandon all else and ripped her mask off to taunt the officers. They deserved to see her face, covered in gore and as ghoulish as they came! Nothing mattered to her at that point and she wanted to give them a scare…!

That is, until the next morning, when she recovered from her hangover and realized what she’d done. One of those Doves got a picture of her. In a panic, she called her father to ask for some sort of mercy money to clear the issue up. He’s frustrated with her constantly getting into increasingly worse trouble and tells her this: he’s going to pay for her to completely change her identity and her face so that she can move elsewhere, completely out of the way of harm. After that, he’d be cutting her off, leaving her with only the savings that she had prior to the cut-off. No more handouts.

This is when she became Taeko Atou, a pseudonym based off of her Scrapper show guest alias, “Miss AT”, and moved to the 20th ward. She has to adjust to average life a la Schitt’s Creek or Arrested Development.

7. What kind of clothing style do they like? What would they never be caught dead wearing? What’s likely in their closet right now?

Bellamy Amplexus – Final Fantasy XV SI

·         Bells LOVES anything that’ll make them look cute and androgynous. They’re super partial to a femme prince aesthetic. Blouses and linens and vests and suspenders and a bunch of that cute shit. (Yes, this is my preferred fashion style and I wish I could look like that all the time.) They’re also into stuff like your average sundresses and such when it’s too hot for “princey” attire because hell yeah.

·         They’d hate to wear… hm… short party dresses? Cocktail dresses n shit. (No shade to those tho theyre cute. Just not Bellamy’s style.)

Junko Hisayo – Persona 5 SI

·         Junko’s super masc and butch in her presentation, binds her chest, does the simple graphic tee + jeans thing a lot. Think “Kanji Tatsumi but a lesbian”.

·         She lowkey doesn’t like wearing overly feminine clothes, like, she does not vibe with dresses.

Elizabeth Beaufort – Red Dead Redemption 2 SI

·         Lizzie is pretty standard when it comes to clothes: blouses and skirts, dresses, all just… really basic stuff. She likes simple and solid colours, maybe simple patterns. She’s also like… very cottagecore. Probably likes overalls if she ever wears ‘em?? I’m not a frickin’ historian and I’m not gonna google early 1900s clothes styles at this hour don’t @ me.

·         This is literally just because I’m basic as all fuck and I like a skirt/blouse or sundress style outfit. I don’t wear it often but that’s my jazz y’know?

Gillian Wright – Red Dead Redemption 2 SI

·         Gilley’s another one of my more boyish characters. She doesn’t deliberately go out of her way to look like a man unless she’s under the guise of her male persona Giles Kingsley. But let me tell you—she goes all out for those occasions, even electing to simulate stubble on her face with cosmetics. Think “cowboy drag king” and you’ll hit the mark.

·         Other than that, she just wears whatever’s convenient and comfortable.

 9. Their favorite foods? Colors? Activities? What do they enjoy in life? How do they express their joy for things they like?

As dumb as this sounds I completely burnt out after writing only 2 self insert likes/interests profiles, forgive me lol.

Bellamy Amplexus – Final Fantasy XV SI

·         Favourite Food: Bells is indecisive, but they will gladly eat anything Ignis puts in front of them. They’re thoroughly convinced he uses magic in his cooking. (They’re only half joking about that—it’s so good!) If they were made to decide a top three, it’d likely be Garden Curry, Broiled King on a Stick, and Moogle Mousse with Kupoberry Sauce. Honorable mention being Gyashi Chips (yes, they like what’s effectively Eosian kale chips).

·         Favourite Colours: ANYTHING PASTEL will win Bellamy over, along with any colour considered light and airy. White, silver, pale green, soft gold, baby blue, lavender, and also whatever the sky has going on at any given time of the day—they’re an aesthetic little shit.

·         Favourite Activities: Travelling, leisure shopping when funds allow it (if given the means, Bellamy will 100% engage in excessive retail therapy, no joke), swimming, loving their friends, talking about books and music, gardening, and (I know this sounds vain but bear with me) preening. Yes, they’d be a vlogger in another life. Don’t @ me

·         Bells loves to talk in excess about what they like, and on occasion, when words fail, they tend to express it through squealing, jumping, etc. If someone points out how passionate Bells is about these things, they’ll end up flustered and ask the person if they could continue. I guess you could say Bellamy stims? I’m not diagnosed with anything, so take this with a grain of salt, but I do have stimming habits.

Junko Hisayo – Persona 5 SI

·         Favourite Food: Junko’s pretty partial to miso soup. It’s one of her weaknesses. Total comfort food. (Bro I fuckin’ love miso soup.) As well as baked goods like cupcakes.

·         Favourite Colours: Red, black, silver, pink, blue, purple.

·         Favourite Activities: drawing (sketches, scribbles, doodles, colouring, etc., singing, baking/cooking, writing, and she learned to love gardening after getting close to Haru.

·         Junko tends to show her happiness through verbal and artistic expression, she’s also the type that tends to crack jokes (mostly shitty puns followed up by finger guns).

Again, thank you so much for asking, thank you so much for asking! QwQ Asks are still open, everyone.

[iamalivenow]

Jon watches Daisy and Melanie haul the nice couch from the nice break room all the way to the elevator and he also watches the rest of the people who work in this building try to restrain themselves from yelling at the weirdos from the Archives. “Are you coming or not?” Melanie sounds bored which means she's already done with this entire idea. Jon gets into the elevator. It's a tight fit and the lights are dim and Daisy stands too close to possibly be comfortable but he doesn't mind. He's gotten used to her shadowing him like this. Feels safer for it even. Hauling the couch out takes even more time then hauling it in did, and then dragging it into the spare office is a trial with how small the door is. “Right, I'm done. Have fun with your awful idea.” Melanie dusts her hands on her jeans and stares at the two of them. “I'll tell Helen you're being stupid again.” “I'm sure she'll be thrilled.” Melanie snorts and leaves just as Basira arrives with a plastic bag filled with loose disks. “I think this is an awful idea.” Is the first thing she says. “Do you know they're keeping my key card until I bring those back?” Is the second.

“Sure is a good thing you don't have to go anywhere.” Daisy pats the spot next to her on the couch and stares at the projector Jon hooked up to his laptop. “Are we doing this or what?” This, being a marathon of the Lagorio director cuts. Because they're out of ideas and Annabelle- probably Annabelle- has started infesting the institute just as badly as Prentiss did. They're on every inch of the walls outside, and slipping in through the windows so much easier. There aren't any in the tunnels yet, and not that many managed to sneak into the basement, but- Everyone else will crush them for him, and he doesn't have to touch them, and he doesn't mind. He fiddles with the disk drive, a temperamental thing he borrowed from Georgie ages ago and when he finally remembered to return it she had gotten a new one and let him keep it for five quid. He grabs a loose disk from the bag, huffing warm air on it and cleaning it on his shirt before putting it in and sitting to Daisy's right. It's Dead Sky, the credits tell them. Jon hates it instantly.

Dead Sky Real snore fest. Couldn't even begin to be scared. All of the gore would look great if you could see any of it. Ever heard of lighting balance? And you can totally see the suspension harnesses. Stop wasting so much money on practical effects if you can't even afford a green screen. 2 Stars. Hey, want to hear a joke? Why can't spiders become pilots? Because they only know how to tailspin.  – LonelyEyes

The phantom touch of vertigo only leaves him when the credits roll, the tightness in his chest finally abating when he turns his head to see how his two tagalongs are doing. “You're breathing kind of hard there, you alright?” Jon nods, rubbing his face awake. “Not going to be weird, right?” “I don't know. Where's Basira?” “She said she was going to steal popcorn from the upstairs break room.” Daisy looks bored. Really not a movie person then. Or just not a good movie. She stretches, one arm vaguely behind Jon's head before she settles comfortably. “I thought it was going to be worse, honestly. Wasn't this one of his fucked up one?” “It was-” He pats his chest as if that's supposed to translate what he means but Daisy takes a slow nod anyway. “Maybe it didn't grab me because I killed one of them.” “Maybe.” Basira comes back with popcorn while Jon tries to figure out the next disk to put in.

Beyond Time God, could you make something more reductive if you tried? Honestly, the second anyone thinks they can do time travel right is a joke. Black holes don't work like that, obviously. At least someone learned how to light a scene correctly, but man the make up? Come on people. Cult classic? Hey, since you people like jokes so much, got another one for you. What does a spider do when he gets angry? He goes up the wall! 2.5 Stars –LonelyEyes

Jon breathes a sigh of relief when its over. This one really wasn't as bad- at least not to him. Daisy holds Basira's hand and whispers something Jon chooses not to hear. While he fumbles with the next disk, Daisy passes him the bowl of popcorn to hold while she takes both of Basira's hands. “Are you alright?” Daisy nudges his foot with hers, which means shut up, which he does, staring back at the wall. “I'm fine, Jon. Put the next one on.” Daisy's hands don't move from Basira's. He wipes the disk twice, just to make sure none of the sugar got on it and caused the film to look even worse.

The Crawling Ones This one almost won me over. Almost. The romance was so by the numbers though, and it took up way to much of the runtime. My coworker doesn't think the romance between the monster roaches and the lead actor was even obvious, so really, what else can be said. Ugh. 1.6 stars. Oh, I got a joke for you, ready? Did you hear about the spider love triangle? It was a tangled web. – LonelyEyes

Basira excuses herself to vomit, which Jon thinks is fair, and if he never sees another bug of any kind it will be to soon. “You look green Jon.” “Yes well. Bit over insects.” He says. Daisy nods, somewhat lazy in her understanding but she takes Jon's hand and rolls his sleeve up to stare at the worm scars. He tries his best not to feel examined, tries his best not to squirm before she slowly rolls his sleeve back down, doing the buttons he didn't bother with earlier. Her nails clack against them and it's oddly loud in the otherwise quiet room. “If you get really scared you can hold my hand.” It doesn't sound placating, which is nice. They try not to sound placating around each other. “Is Basira okay?” He asks because the thought of holding hands makes his palms sweat almost instantly. “She- She's fine. She'll be fine. She's strong.” “Right.” You are too, he wants to say, but the door to the office opens and Basira sits down on the couch and stares straight ahead. Okay, not going to talk about it then, that's fine.

Jewel of the Amazon Eh. Can't muster more then Eh. Not a good sign, traditionally. Eh. 0 Stars. Here's something though, What does a spider do when he gets angry? He goes up the wall! – LonelyEyes

The scar Melanie gave him aches miserably. “Jon?” He lets go of Daisy's hand, practically drops it like its hot coal. She shakes it out, like he gripped too hard, and he must have. He tries to move to the right, give Daisy some space before she tugs him back, closer then before. “Holding up?” He chances a glance at Basira- who's managed to fall asleep half way through it. “Leg hurts.” It's all situational, he supposed. And these films are three to four hours long. He has no idea how anyone would ever want to watch this. How this man sold any of this garbage. “Poor you. Here.” She pats her shoulder and Jon stares at her. “I'm not going to snap your head off, come on.”

Agents of Orion Definitely the only good movie this hack ever made, I can really feel the horror. My coworker thinks its a little on the nose, but there's nothing wrong with that sometimes. If it's tasteful. But then you can't go wrong with the isolation of space! Who wouldn't think that was scary! The maze section was absolute garbage though. Amateur writing 101 much? 4 stars. What do you call an under cover spider? A spy-der ! - LonelyEyes

He does end up with his face in her neck. It's embarrassing now, while she holds the back of his neck like he's a infant, but during the film he appreciated it. He really appreciated it. Her nails dig into the skin and it's nice, it's grounding, and even if it hurts it's the kind of pain he's used to, somehow. For half a second he thinks she's going to start rocking him back and forth but she lets him go as Basira gets up from the couch. “I'm going to bed.” Jon pulls away, blinks until he can see straight and looks at the time. They really did waste all day doing this. “Pick this up again tomorrow?” “Yes- Yes.” He says. His face feels warm. Well, he was just cradled by her girlfriend. He supposed it made sense that at least one of them was embarrassed about it. “Tomorrow morning.” “Sounds good. Daisy?” “I'm going to make sure he's okay. I”ll find you in a few.” Basira just shrugs and heads towards the tunnels. “I'm fine.” He insists. “Well, yeah. It's not like you could have nightmares about this.” “Oh- yes.” He laughs. “Sorry for then uh-” “I told you it was fine.” “Just-” Jon swallows. “Thank you- for-” “I got it.” “Alright.” “Good night Jon.”

Forty Winks Abysmal in every way, -5 stars, couldn't stand it.  I got another joke, though, ready? What do you get when you cross spiders and corn? Cobwebs. - LonelyEyes

Helen and Melanie join them in the morning, just for the sake of solidarity, they tell him. It's relatively tame- well- the gore is everywhere and the animatronics move like they're alive- but Jon's gotten over his Spiral fear ages ago, especially with Helen sitting next to him. The only real horrific part of that viewing experience was Melanie in Helen's lap, both of them apparently trying to swallow each others tongues the entire time. He honestly wasn't even aware Helen had a tongue until he watched it lick Melanie's lips for five minutes straight. Basira's asleep again too, rough night apparently, head in Daisy's lap. And he's between them alone, fumbling with the cheap disk drive.

Nightmare Children This one is....almost good. The monsters feel cheap though. The people I watched this one with were to distracted having sex to actually react to the movie, so it's at least that bad. 2.5 stars. Maybe my joke could distract them from each other? I felt so guilty after I stepped on a spider this morning. You should of seen him, he looked genuinely crushed. – LonelyEyes

Jon has to hold Daisy's hand again. The way the dolls move is- is just too close to- Helen and Melanie unceremoniously excused themselves half way through, clearly more entertained with each other then with a cheap evil doll movie. Basira left too, also half way through. She had an appointment she forgot about, apparently. “How many more of this do we have left?” “Just three, I think.” Daisy reaches over and picks up the three disks, holding them out for him like a fan of cards. “Homestretch.” Jon smiles and picks the middle one, cleaning the finger prints off on his shirt. “This entire thing feels kind of- I don't know. A waste of time?” Daisy shrugs. “Maybe after this you could show me a good movie.” Jon puts in the disk and tries not to swell on far reaching implications.

Toy Shop Another trite romance, can this guy do anything else? And this is the second evil doll movie? He should try and work with mannequins. Those could actually scare people. 1.5 stars. My coworker wanted to write a joke but I don't really get it. He's a good kid though. What part of a computer does a spider use? The webcam. – LonelyEyes

They both get up and walk around, mostly out of boredom. The last one really was- Bad. He can say bad. Boring, even. Daisy stares at him while he smokes. “Just two more.” He says. It's really become a slog. But then the more something goes on for the more it's a given that it'll turn dull and derivative. “I don't know if I should hope for a exciting ending or not. Either it's a good film, which means it's scary or its another eight hours of wasting time.” “This was your idea.” “Isn't it time people stop letting me have those?” Daisy laughs.

Under New York Tight spaces? That's it? A few collapsed tunnels, a few abandoned subways? A lake? I was ready to get upset about how this movie was treating its monster (mole people by the way, like it's the fifties) but then you realize it's trying to be clever with a “man was always the real monster” and oh, just throw the entire production away. Couldn't think of something more dull if I tried. -2 stars. What do you call two young married spiders? Newly webs!  Well. They can't all be great. – LonelyEyes

When they try and stop the movie, the laptop freezes and keeps going. The door is, at this point in their lives, unsurprisingly locked. They can't even get the sound off. Watching Daisy have an attack is nightmarish. She doesn't get violent- he doesn't know why he thought he would, but she goes completely still, and he could see the tension in ever single muscle. Her eyes go dull, she looks anywhere but the wall it's projected on. “Daisy- Daisy listen to me-” He has to yell over the volume. “Daisy you're not there!” He tries to push her off of the couch but she's a solid rock of muscle that Jon couldn't really push around regularly. So of course, he does the one thing that comes to mind which he is sure is nothing short of an unspeakably good idea, and punches Daisy in the face. She's not frozen anymore, good, but she's staring at Jon like he's a meal, bad. He does try to at least get to the other side of the couch before Daisy lunges after him. They're both on the ground, and in Jon's desperate attempt to get away the project gets turned over and displays some poor man crawling through a tunnel on the ceiling. She grabs his hair and pulls and the pain shoots right down his spine, almost blinding. It barely compares to when she slams his head down on the floor. His nose bleeds onto their clothes, and just as shes about to do it again, he kicks out and yells her name. Any realization, any kind of flash of reality before she bashes his skull it would be great really. “Make it stop!” It's a howl more then a yell, loud and dangerous. “Make the crushing stop!” “I'm-” Trying, is what he was going to say, before Daisy decks him across the face, and more of that searing hot pain makes him feel like his face is on fire. He kicks at the her- at the desk- at anything he can before she swings again, harder, connects with his jaw. It's hard enough that it splits her knuckles open. Somewhere between the kicking and the begging and the collective screaming, the laptop falls off of the desk behind the couch, and the projector displays it's bright blue no input found screen and Jon lets himself fall back on the cool floor. “Fuck.” Her hair is a mess around her face, blood on her cheeks, probably his, breathing hard. “Jon-” He can practically see the way she comes back to herself- her pupils dilate for a moment before she settles- getting off of him. “Jon-” Like she hasn't even noticed. “I'm fine.” He's not- they can both tell instantly when the words come out with a wheeze. He can't feel any inch of his face. “Just need some ice. That's all.” “I'm-” “I'm okay. Really. This will fix itself in an hour at most.” She doesn't say anything after that, but heads upstairs – door's unlocked, who would have thought – and comes back with an ice pack. “Let me look.” Before he has a chance to argue she's holding his face, twisting it every way. “I'll be fine, Daisy.” He insists, even if it hurts to move his jaw right now. “Your hands.” She seems almost surprised to find blood there. “Well.” She sits him up and presses the icepack to his chin. “You weren't lying about getting stronger.” Jon laughs or tries to. Still hurts to much to actually commit. “One more movie?” “This sounds like an exceptionally bad idea.” “Can't be worse then the last one.”  

Widow's Weave Trite, really, but even a cold hard critic like me has to admit. The spider looked great. 4.0 stars. Why are spiders like tops? They are always spinning! – LonelyEyes

He feels his face knit itself back together just as he realizes what he's about to see on screen. Daisy holds his hand with her battered knuckles before Jon has to turn away. All he can see is Mr. Spider behind a random door, leering and waiting, curling his arms invitingly. “Don't you know good boys come when they're called?” Someone says in the movie, and Jon almost bolts out of the room. Well, he would have. If the door wasn't locked again. “Jon, come here.” He does, because he knows her voice- because he can trust her voice- He stops a few steps from the couch. Can he? She grabs his hand anyway and pulls him on top of her, face into the crook of her neck. “It's not real.” “That's never stopped it before.” He whispers. “Don't focus on it. Focus on me. On my voice. That's good for you right? Voices?” He doesn't know what's good for him. Until she tells him about Calvin. He's heard this before, of course, but that was Elias doing his- their trick- and now it's Daisy, by choice,  voice low in his ear and a hand on his back. He feels ready to run a marathon once she's done, filled with energy he hasn't had in a while. In a long while. But she doesn't let him go regardless, because the film keeps going and he can still hear the staccato accompaniment when ever the spider moves. So she tells him again, how she ripped Nikola's dolls apart, how she set a vampire on fire, how she met Basira, story after story after story that fed him more then anyone else ever has. He doesn't even notice the film ending. It's past midnight. “Are you alright?' He pulls away and she gives him a smile. She has a bruise where he punched her. “Aces.”

[coeurspire]

five times kissed // only if you want to ofc ~

▌█  ❥▐  ’ & MEME. SEND ME FIVE TIMES KISSED FOR FIVE KISSES.

i am so here for this you don’t even know but now you’ll know because after two years, i’ll finally answer this

i.

eva has been the last female friend sherry has had, and she has not seen the element mage since she has left lamia scale to resurrect  ( and kill )  deliora. she is somewhat close to some of the women back at her guild, but — being in zinnia does not feel right, these days, and if another serpent  gushes  about how  amazing  sherry’s cousin is, sherry will have to scream. she does not want to scream. she does not want to be hurt or angry or both all the time. she does not want to be bitter and resentful either, but lamia scale has been her guild, her safe place. it is not a place she wants to see  invaded  by a member of the family who has not wanted her when she has been a child, but sherry strives to be a  better  person than her aunt and this means that she swallows her anger.

she is suppressing a lot of emotions, these days, but she has buried them alive in a too shallow grave. she is angry about this, too, angry that she cannot bury her emotions the way jura buries his — deep enough so that nothing can reach them.

unsurprisingly, it does not take much for her to unravel. she does not think that jenny  means  to push her buttons, but she does. after all — there is only so much that sherry can hold in without  hurting  herself, and she has long exceeded these limits. true to character, the marionette mage does not cry. tears are reserved for genuine tragedies — and piled up frustrations do not  qualify.  instead, everything she has never said bubbles to the surface and spills from her lips, riddled with curses and anger. happy-go-lucky, candy cotton cheerful sherry blendy is a lie, something jenny becomes acutely aware of.

but sherry feels better, feels like she can finally breathe freely again, like she can live without having to push down her feelings every other minute. there is freedom in letting out all the things that drain one’s happiness, something jura has told her a million times, but he is  so good  and her frustrations sometimes seem to petty for her to share them with him. she does not have these reservations when it comes to jenny, someone who seems to  get  how stressful it is to maintain an image.

hours later, sherry leaves behind blue pegasus, but not without offering jenny an open ear because  “ you listened to me, i’ll listen to you if you ever need to rant ”  and pressing a kiss against the visibly confounded woman’s cheek, gratitude radiating from the serpent’s smile.

ii.

sherry is  grateful  that once upon a time, she has been mentored by a grouchy older lamia mage who has never had any patience for the nonsense that all female mages were set up to compete against one another, just because most attention was on their male peers. carolina seafield has long retired, but her wise teachings have stayed with sherry — even though she has sometimes felt like she was letting down her mentor when she has struggled to bond with other female serpents. or well, at least with any snake who was not eva.

what irritates her is that people  ( read: ren )  expect her to be at odds with jenny. she knows that her  stellar  fiance used to date the model, but sherry can barely express how little she cares about this. she would not say it out loud, but some days, she likes jenny better than she likes ren. she does not like it when someone tries to influence her judgement — and this is what ren is trying with his not-so-subtle jabs. sooner or later, she will have to have words with him about this, but for now, she is sitting in the gardens of blue pegasus with jenny and tries not to point out that the flowers she is growing in lamia’s garden are far prettier than these ones. that jura has altered the soil with his magic  definitely  shows, she figures.

once in a while, she questions if she is being nice to jenny because she knows that ren cannot stand it and tries not to think about the way jura has been looking at her the last time ren has come up in conversation. he worries, she knows, and she cannot say anything that would  fix  it, cannot fix it because he is  right:  love should never  allow  for two people to find joy in spiting one another, but this is what this relationship  is,  far too often.

sherry sighs. no, she does not want to think about this. ren’s lack of punctuality is already frustrating enough to deal with. she has managed to be on time despite having to come all the way from zinnia, but he does not manage to do the same despite  living  in this city. though — it is not all that bad, really. jenny is pleasant company and sherry likes to spend time with her. they are perhaps not quite friends yet, but the marionette mage hopes that they are  getting there,  slowly.

ultimately, ren appears — three hours late and visibly  unprepared  — and sherry rises alongside jenny who throws ren a glare, a glare that is every bit as unhappy as sherry feels. this is probably the kind of solidarity others mean when they discuss the beauty of friendship, but sherry would not know for sure. jenny is good  ( probably better than sherry )  at hiding the fact that she is a human being who feels  strongly,  but it is no secret to sherry that she does not mind messing with ren, once in a while. thus, sherry is not  too  surprised when the blonde presses a kiss to her cheek before she slips away, barely managing to hide a smirk.

“ what was that about. ” ren’s voice does  not  sound like a question, sounds like an irritated scoff — and sherry does not care much for being snapped at.

she sighs, again, before she smirks at him. two  can  play a game and he  has  been pushing her to play along, even though she does not care for the game. “ nothing that concerns you, ” she responds before she shrugs off the arm he has thrown around her shoulders and slips into the café he has promised to take her to.

iii.

in the end, her relationship with ren does not last, but her friendship with jenny does. sherry nearly laughs about it, but laughing is a generally bad idea when one has bruised ribs and a broken nose. her last solo mission has not gone entirely as planned, but she has had worse injuries in the past. this is mostly inconvenient because she cannot do her own hair properly and she has always been … particular about her hair. most days, kora stops by in the morning to brush and braid the long curls, but she is on a mission and thus not available. today, however, sherry is not endlessly frustrated by the mess on her head because jenny has stopped by, bringing sweets and a stack of the newest gardening magazines. and because the model is a good friend, she has taken pity and put sherry’s hair into a neat bun before retrieving her own magazine from her bag and finding a spot on sherry’s couch.

sherry enjoys quiet familiarity like this. it is what she misses most desperately when she remembers that jura is slipping out of her grasp, little by little, making her wonder when she has last cradled his soul in her hands and felt safe. it is what she misses when she when the thought of eva sneaks into her brain, when she cannot smother it in time.

( funny — all of fiore associates her with love and no one ever wonders how much heartbreak all her love has brought her. )

right now, it is easy not to think about the people who have left, who are leaving. right now, she is thinking about jenny, about someone who is  staying.  such a strange, foreign thought — nearly everyone is leaving  ( lyon has  left  her, despite confessing )  and yet, someone who does not have to stay is still there, making sherry  nearly  pray that she will stay, that she will not slip away as well.

there is a limit to the hurt she can take, and nothing good has ever come out of her going beyond her limitations.  heartbreak  love is the one thing that can bend her out of shape in a way she cannot recover from so easily. and of course, sherry is no stranger to loving someone dearly, to caring so much that it might very well kill her. as she flips a page in the gardening magazine, she lifts her gaze and  smiles  at how peaceful her friend looks.

half an hour later when she gets up to get tea from the kitchen, she hovers  a little too long  in the door and jenny turns towards her and reaches for her wrist, the most unreadable expression on her face. the moment stretches on — becomes a minute or an hour or the fracture of an eternity. then, jenny sighs softly and lets go, her face less of an enigma as she stands and leaves a mark of  unique  lipstick on sherry’s cheek, just below the bandaid covering her nose.

iv.

on good days, sherry looks in the mirror and sees no one looking back, only sees her own face. on bad days, she looks in the mirror and sees her mother’s face with her father’s eyes, sees nothing but a million missed chances. this, she decides as she turns away from the mirror, is a bad day, a very bad day. sherry  is  her parents’ daughter. a painfully obvious fact, truly, but one that people tend to underestimate because they have never met lily and robert blendy. if they had, they would understand. to be the daughter of two people who are just as great as they are dead is difficult. it means to always chase after something she cannot be, not unless she gives up on magic and dedicates herself to science.

( magic  is  science, for many people, but sherry knows that for the people who have admired her parents, it does not count. it never has, it never will. )

( it doesn’t really count for her either. )

on bad days, all sherry can think of is how  tragic  her parents’ death has been, not just for her. but — the greater scheme of things, the greater good, whatever. and … it feels unfair. they should not have died like this, should not have ended as unfinished stories that will never reach a proper conclusion. instead, they were abandoned projects, ideas no higher being has ever  bothered  to think through to the very end.

this is what she cannot  not  think about when the resemblance is tearing her heart to shreds. this is why her hands are shaking when they should be steady as ever, why she has to put down her makeup brush and reach for the edge of her sink, ever-so-skilled fingers clinging to the porcelain as if it is her last connection to the real world.

“ you look like you’ve seen a ghost. ” jenny’s voice — blunt, blissfully lacking in any saccharine kindness — shakes her out of the thoughts that are threatening to eat her alive once more.

sherry laughs after a  too long  moment of silence as she shakes her head even though she should be nodding. “ maybe, ” she says, only dimly aware that her entire body language makes no sense right now, that she has never been  this  out of it ever before. alright — so maybe it has been even worse than she has been possessed by dark magic, but it does not count. it never does.

next to her, an odd sound escapes jenny’s throat. it sounds — like something is dying in her throat and sherry turns her head, looks away from the ghost in the mirror and towards her friend. the blonde looks — somewhat out of place as she sighs  ( an honest, soul-deep sigh )  before she throws one arm around sherry’s shoulders. “ you’ll be alright, ” she says, a welcome mixture of confidence and comfort swinging between her words. this, too, feels genuine and sherry exhales before she angles her head and presses a quiet kiss against jenny’s cheek. gratitude has seldom felt this helpless.

v.

there have always been downsides to fame. great fortune would always inspire envy and jealousy. it was the price anyone who was  someone  in fiorean society paid for their standing, it was a fact sherry has long accepted. but she cannot deny the  anger  she feels as she sees jenny. the article has been absolutely  vile,  has been cruel, and sherry knows in the depths of her soul that it is harder for her to see jenny hurt than it would have been to deal with the same article, written about her.

“ i’ll stay with you, ” sherry says firmly as she closes the door behind her, slipping out of her high heels and dropping off purse and cape on the nearest chair. she nearly slips on the hardwood floor, but then she sits down next to her friend, reaching for jenny’s hands. because at the end of the day, sherry blendy does not always know what to say, but she knows that sometimes, words are not necessary. and right now, there are feelings that are difficult to wrap into words because it is just too much, too strong in her heart.

she could try, the way she usually would. she enjoys being considered eloquent a little too much, really, but — silence was a language of its own. and while it was no language she has ever mastered, she has known enough people who have. her father, all those years ago. jura, for as long as she has known him. but any words she could find would be too weak and thus untrue — and sherry is many things, but she is no liar.

“ i’ll stay as long as you want me to stay, ” she adds, pulling off one of her gloves and brushing back a strand that has successfully escaped jenny’s elaborate hairdo. how this has been possible, sherry does not really know — she can  sense  the sheer amount of magical hairspray that has been used to fixate this look.

there they are — dressed up to the nines for a party they will not attend, not after this. even if jenny would  want  to still go, sherry does not trust herself to remain calm right now. her anger has always been dark and potent, has always been venom in her mouth — and after nirvana, it has only gotten worse. if someone would test her patience tonight, she would snap. she knows this in her very soul, just like she knows that her soul is not entirely free from the shadow dark magic has cast.

( and if sherry would snap, if she would lose control, everything would be even worse. )

jenny does not answer but her shoulders lose some of their tension as sherry wraps her arms around her and holds her tightly, her eyes dry and steel and fire. she cannot bear to see despair like this, not in a friend, not in someone she loves. but she cannot do anything to fix this, cannot do anything but be  there  and hope that it will be enough.

“ i love you, ” the marionette mage says quietly as she presses a helpless kiss against her friend’s forehead. “ you are the best friend i’ve ever had. but i don’t know how to fix this, no matter how much i want to. ”

“ just… ” jenny sighs, her voice nearly cracking. “ just stay. ”

[heartlyre]

META NOTES: The Answer

      all notes compiled during various playthroughs of The Answer, for those curious and for my own personal reference in the future. bc i can’t be assed to turn it into an actual meta post lmao. 

      as always, this is an extension of Hamuko’s main verse wherein she is the male protag’s sister and he fulfills the requirements to create the Great Seal. 

      i doubt anyone following me cares, but just in case: THIS IS NOT A SPOILER FREE ANALYSIS. THIS POST VERY SOLIDLY SPOILS THE ENDGAME OF P.ERSONA 3 AS WELL AS ITS EPILOGUE. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT COMPLETED BOTH PARTS.

it’s doubtful that Hamu would have remained at the dorm after her brother’s death — too many memories. either moved to the standard female dorm or chose to spend spring break living with Yukari or Mitsuru

Aigis DOES still keep Minato’s Evoker. Hamuko was not the one who picked it up during the final battle versus Nyx and afterwards couldn’t bear to see Aigis parted from it in the name of her own selfishness.

it’s been less than a month since the loss of her brother. she’s still horribly shell-shocked, and it shows —— she’s still pleasant and is obviously trying to keep up her former appearance of cheer, but she is incapable of not being sad and will ( silently ) bristle should anyone tell her to ‘ lighten up, ‘ no matter how well-intentioned it may be.

she is not at the dorm until after the first battle with Metis, and instead arrives with Yukari. she doesn’t seem entirely pleased to be back. 

Hamuko spent the entire night of March 5th by her brother’s side, watching him for signs of difference, though she knew from the moment they arrived at the dorm that something was wrong. by the time he was gone, she’d already been weeping for hours.

The Answer marks the beginning of Hamuko’s Arcana Change, wherein she still retains her original arcana of The Fool, but if she were inspected by Mitsuru or Fuuka, she would seem… distorted?  Her own version of Orpheus remains unchanged physically — still keeping his golden hair and heart-shaped lyre — but he seems tarnished, almost. Something akin to rust has begun to appear on his joints, and his hair looks to be thinner…

is all but silent through Metis’ initial explanation wrt the Abyss of Time, choosing to watch quietly rather than speak. all it takes is Metis saying that she’s trying to lead them through the Abyss of Time to save Aigis — to save her sister — for Hamuko to believe her and be on board with going in.

Mitsuru does not choose her to step up as the field leader, both out of respect for her recent loss, and because there is tactical strategy in having Aigis, the new holder of power of the Wild Card, as their leader rather than Hamuko. she accepts this with grace ( despite clearly being somewhat disappointed ) and instead settles back into her former role of ‘co-leader’

essentially Hamuko acts as a more quiet version of Yukari during the beginning sequences. she vocally agrees that she just wants to get through the Abyss of Time as soon as possible — leaving unexplained that this is mostly because she doesn’t want to be thrown back into battle, when every move she made was once intended to protect her now deceased brother — and expresses wary curiosity similar to Yukari’s when asking Aigis why she can now change Personas as Minato could. she is… unreadable to the others, but at heart, is both hurt and somewhat offended that she, as Minato’s sister, wasn’t chosen to step forward in his place.

she joins the party as a permanent member and is irremovable as soon as dungeon crawling begins, at least for the first few bosses. for all her unspoken wishes not to go back into battle, she says simply that she’d prefer to go into the Abyss and fight rather than stand around. in truth, she’s drawn a connection between the Abyss’ sudden appearance and Aigis’ inheriting of her brother’s Persona —— she suspects from that moment forward that it has something to do with Minato, and she actively wants to get to the bottom of it.

her Orpheus’ skillset reverts back to ‘Agi’ / ‘Matarunda’ / ‘Diarama’ and proceeds to re-learn the same skills he’d had during their Journey.  intended to act as the ‘mage’ to Aigis’ brute force.

she is mildly upset by the flashback of Ken’s memories in the police station, but says little, only coming over to stand by him and rest her hand on his shoulder in a show of solidarity.

seems to be upset by the talk of her teammates chasing the thrill of battle, but again, says nothing besides quietly agreeing with Yukari’s sentiment of ‘If we don’t keep our eyes forward, it’s all a waste of time.’

smiles a bit at watching Akihiko’s flashback, commenting on how ‘handsome’ Akihiko was when he was younger. her mirth quickly fades.

stiffens when Metis mentions feeling a ‘presence’ outside the last room on the second floor. no reaction but for a ‘!’ above her head before running out of the lobby to go see for herself. will comment on how strange this is should she be approached by Aigis before going into the next dungeon.

here, Hamuko is no longer a permanent party member. though she’ll make it known to Aigis that she’d prefer to go down into the Abyss and that her place as co-leader means she keeps a good eye on healing everyone, she’ll also say that she feels it would be best if someone stayed up on the second floor of the dorm for the time being. she smiles. it’s fake.

physically stiffens during Junpei’s flashback and looks… almost angered by the revealed breach in her and her brother’s privacy. ( “someone took a peek into [ his ] file when one of the teachers left it lying around. both of [ his ] parents are dead.” / “it’s just a rumour!” ) both siblings had wondered how the gossip about their parents and living situation had spread so early into the year (Junpei himself places his memory flashback as ‘the night that Akihiko-senpai found me,’ which is less than two weeks after the Protagonist arrives in Iwatodai. the siblings were at Gekkoukan for 12 DAYS until the rumour got out — ) and now that Hamuko has her answer, she’s visibly dismayed.

she swallows it back for the most part and doesn’t mention it past a quiet, near emotionless “… so i guess now i know how the gossip got started,” but she’s still clearly bristling at flashback!Junpei’s “that stuff only happens in soap operas!” remark.

Junpei will comment when approached by Aigis about how ‘Hamu-tan’ seems to be acting a bit colder towards him ( though he brushes it off as her merely being on edge in general because ‘the past few weeks have been hard on her, ya know?’ ) in addition to standard dialogue about how his father is, at least, still alive, and therefore he has it easier than most of the other dorm residence . Hamuko, in turn, will wonder aloud if the Arisato’s file would have been looked into had they grown up here like everyone else, and acknowledges that perhaps she’s being a bit harsh thanks to her lack of perspective on abusive parents.

not much to comment on with Mitsuru’s door, only a look of worry for Mitsuru when she says how strange it was to have seen her father again as if he were alive. talking to Hamuko in the dorm brings about a soft mention of how she thinks she’s beginning to figure out the connections between everyone’s flashbacks, but that because Aigis is the leader now, Hamuko is going to keep it to herself until she has more evidence.

Yukari’s flashback also leaves little to comment on from Hamuko besides a murmur of her friends name once the flashback is over, though she does add a quiet “me too” when Yukari mentions wanting a sign she was moving in the right direction equal to the same blessing Aigis received in the power of the Wild Card.

when Yukari reveals the connection between everyone’s doors and points out that it was the awakening to everyone’s Personas, and Mitsuru mentions that Fuuka, Aigis, and Metis’ memories all have no need to be revisited, Hamuko also adds that as her Persona was awakened in defense of him the same night he awoke his, it’s likely that her memories were also unnecessary. speaking to Hamuko in the dorm afterward shows her mulling over the idea that the Abyss of Time is connected to all of them, musing out loud about the shadowy black figure they’ve been seeing and wondering if it’s connected to the presence outside her brother’s now vacant room.

she does not come into the dungeon for the final door, stating that she feels like she really needs to be up on the second floor in the dorms and that she hopes Aigis understands

Upon finding the last door in the Abyss’ furthest level: > Junpei: ‘what did we do to deserve this?’ > Hamuko, softly, but with contained anger: ‘nothing. we’ve done nothing to deserve this.’

Hamuko comes out of Aigis’ flashback in stunned tears at the sight of her brother’s retreating form. once Fuuka says, ‘I didn’t expect to see him again, even if he had his back turned,’ Hamuko reacts with a ‘!’ over her head, stumbling where she stands to the point where Akihiko has to steady her. a party member asks if she’s okay, and she nods, attempting to stand on her own again, but she’s clearly shaken. “… it was really him, then? the rest of you saw that too?’

the cutscene continues until Aigis says that she’s done nothing but chase him in her dreams, and Hamuko murmurs, “I’ve had dreams like that too… he doesn’t turn in mine either, if it makes you feel any better.”

the Shadow version of Minato and Metis’ comment of “this is the reason why everything is happening. this was born from all of you.” draws a pained, whimpered “no” from her. she is left unable to move, and takes the Shadow’s first strike — from her own Orpheus —- to initiate combat. she spends the rest of the battle awake but incapacitated.

she’s standing for the Shadow’s rather gruesome disappearance, but immediately sinks back to her knees after Akihiko’s comment of “we did it.”  besides her soft whisper of ‘brother…’ the cutscene continues as normal

… until Metis’ comment of ‘you were unwilling to let go of something precious to you,’ Hamuko, swiping at her eyes and shouting, angrily, shakily: ‘AND WHY IS THAT A PROBLEM?? WHY IS ANY OF THIS A PROBLEM?? WE DIDN’T DESERVE THIS! NONE OF US DESERVED THIS!! WE JUST WANTED TO LIVE,  TO GO TO SCHOOL LIKE TWO NORMAL KIDS, AND INSTEAD I WAS FORCED TO WATCH AS HE —” Hamuko: … Hamuko, standing and turning to Metis, sadly, but firmly: ‘I lost someone who was just as important to me as Aigis is to you. I lost my only family left, someone who I loved more than my own life, less than a month ago. he was my everything. and you just… you expect me to just let go?’

falls silent once more as a party member quietly says her name. the cutscene proceeds as Metis explains that defeating the Shadow may mean that SEES can once again leave the Abyss of Time.

Junpei: “No one is seriously thinking about going back to the past, right?” Hamuko, glancing away guiltily: “…” … Akihiko: “Even if it hurts, we have to deal with it and accept the present.” Hamuko, as though coming to a realization: “Akihiko-senpai…

Hamuko, softly after Yukari’s outburst against Ken and Akihiko’s supposed ‘selfishness’ for not wanting to return to the past: “… I agree with them, too. Junpei-kun is right —— there’s no guarantee that even if we did go back, everything wouldn’t just happen exactly the same way it did. And I… I can’t watch him die in front of us again. I can’t… I can’t lose him. Not again. It isn’t worth the chance.”

despite Hamuko’s agreement with Ken and Akihiko, she ultimately takes a stand with Metis and Aigis, stating that her stance as the secondary leader means her allegiance goes to the leader proper. To Aigis: “I lead with my brother. I will continue to lead with the person who inherited his powers, regardless of your decisions or how I feel about them. It’s my job to have your back, after all...”

speaking to her in the dorms only ends in her saying: “I still think it’s wrong of us to go back and undo the sacrifice he made for us… but if you agree to go to the past… then I guess I’ll just get one more chance to see my brother again, won’t I?”

Metis, while standing in front of the arena preparing for battle: “This is a real battle, and there will be consequences if they lose.” Hamuko: “Consequences?? What kind of consequences???”

Akihiko, while facing the team in the ring: “Let’s get this over with.” Hamuko: “… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, to both of you...”

speaking to Hamuko in the dorms after Akihiko and Ken have been sealed leads to a single comment of “Make sure you’re ready. I won’t be losing anyone else. Not you… and not them.”

Junpei: “I dunno, do you really see us being able to go back and pull off another miracle, better than he could? I think this is something we’ve got to figure out on our own. You agree, don’t you, Hamu-tan?” Hamuko: “… Yeah. I’m not going to like facing Yukari-chan… but this is how it has to be.” and, while smiling, “Try not to hurt me too bad, okay? I won’t want to have to kick your butt again for payback later.”

the end of Junpei and Koromaru’s fight has Hamuko shaken, but she says nothing but a quiet ‘we’ll get you guys out of there soon’ once they’re sealed.

the scene between Metis and Aigis in which Metis offers Aigis her life should she die so that Metis wouldn’t be alone weighs heavily on Hamuko, and it’s clear that she understands when she says, simply “… that’s the pain of being a sister.”

Yukari: “It’s strange. I kinda want to say ‘long time no see’ to you guys.” Hamuko: “Yukari-chan… please, please don’t do this. You’re making a mistake.”

Mitsuru, in the ring: “Show me your resolve!” Hamuko: “Senpai… Yukari-chan… I’m sorry, but you’re both wrong.”

As Yukari breaks, Hamuko sinks to her knees next to her friend, opposite where Mitsuru would sit. Yukari’s cries of “I want to see him!” are only met with a hushed, “don’t you think I do too? I want him back… I want him back more than anything i can think of. but not like this. not this way… not to take what he gave us and throw it back in his face…”

speaking to her before the final battle will reveal that she’s nervous, and she outright states that there’s something almost familiar beyond that door… like she’s been there before. she warns Aigis to be careful, but states that she believes Aigis can bring them out to the other side safely.

Fuuka, upon seeing Minato’s essence forming the Great Seal: “What… what is this?” Hamuko, tearily: “…Brother… that isn’t… is it?”

Yukari, after watching Erebus attempt to attack Aigis: “I won’t let myself run this time.. He’s watching us, and I won’t let him down!” Hamuko, with barely contained fury: “You leave my family alone, you freak! If you want a fight, you come at me!”

Yukari: “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. He did this, made the seal, because there was no other choice. If there was an easier way, he would have taken it. It’s still sad, but… If I think of him as protecting us, forever… it helps a lot. ” Hamuko: “…He was always a lot smarter than people gave him credit for. He did what he did because he had to… because he cared about you guys… because I care about you guys. And it’s as simple as that.”

Hamuko recognizes the Velvet Room from descriptions her brother had given her, and offers a smile and a quiet ‘it’s nice to finally meet you’ to Igor and Elizabeth.

as Aigis fades after coming to her answer: “No!!! Not you too, Aigis! I’m not losing you too!!!”

as the final cutscene plays, Hamuko can be seen touching a pair of silver headphones where they rest around her neck. tears roll down her face, but she smiles. 

[anniversary-magazine]

In Conversation With Conceptual Artist Pedro Reyes

Contemporary conceptual artist and traditional stonemason; architect and activist; engineer and craftsman. The cross-disciplinary nature of Pedro Reyes' work - which encompasses performance, installation, video, sculpture, and activism - makes a strong case for multiplicity.

Acknowledging the poetry of form as well as the power of politics, Reyes' work layers complexity, humor, rigor, and design. Reyes lives and works in Mexico City in a brutalist house of his own design. 

Rosie Robertson (RR) Pedro Reyes (PR)

RR: Having first trained as an architect, you now create time-based, conceptual performance art, and sculptural works; was it a childhood dream to become an architect?

PR: As a child, my grandfather was a significant influence because he taught me algebra and mythology at the same time, he would take a Greek or roman myth, and then he would pose a problem in algebraic terms. For instance, a simple arithmetic problem would be: Jason has to kill the hydra, but can only catch two heads at a time; how hard does Jason have to work? What that taught me was that you could have myths translated into a formula, and those myths could change or be rewritten using the same elements that gave me the keys to eventually perform. On the other hand, my father was also a significant influence because he taught me engineering drawing. He did not mean to impress me, but to give instructions for someone to build something. The acknowledgment that "if you can draw it, you can make it" gave me the necessary skills to become a sculptor.

RR: Coming from an architectural background, does your artistic practice share a similar relationship with the notions of time, space, politics, and the body?

PR: In architecture, you have to respond to a program, you have to solve a problem, which has stayed with me in my art practice. I expect from my pieces some degree of accountability. I am interested in measuring what that impact can be. It actually took me a long time to start making art pieces for art's sake only.

RR: Your artistic output seems highly collaborative, often coordinating/working with several organizations and individuals who contribute to the overall project. Even working with stone must also require many technicians and craftsmen, particularly on a large scale. As it is often stated, 'art cannot be made in a vacuum' - however, I wonder if there is a part of your artistic practice that is more solitary?

PR: Sculpture has always been a collective undertaking. If you walked in a sculptor studio from the Renaissance or other eras of human history, you would systematically find a group of people working on a single carving due to the heavy labor required to carve stone. I am very much interested in keeping that craftsmanship alive. In the studio, some maestros have many years of experience, and some people who started to learn the craft are now on their way to becoming maestros themselves. However, there is a lot of thinking process that must happen in solitary, for me that is mainly distilling thoughts that may be vague ideas that I have found in old books and that I keep in notes, and then at night, I translate into drawings, and those drawings will lead to new works. Drawing is certainly something that requires me to be alone.

RR: You have collaborated with your partner, fashion designer Carla Fernandez. Does having an intimate relationship and in-depth knowledge of each other's work inhibit the work, or does it speed up the process thanks to the 'couples’ shorthand' that inevitably forms in intimate relationships?

PR: Yes, I collaborate with Carla on many projects. We know how to let each other do what they do best, which helps us move projects forward. What is most important, however, is to share a cause and be concerned with a social or political issue. Because when you do some kind of activism, solidarity is essential, even if it is the companionship of a single person, it makes a world of difference.

RR: Your work includes video, sculpture, performance, activism, and installation - does the freedom to work in any medium feel freeing or overwhelming?

PR: Augusto Boal warned us about the "Che Guevara Syndrome," because as Che Guevara made a revolution in Cuba, then he went on emancipating countries and went to Angola and almost got killed, and then went to Bolivia and was killed there. So, the warning is that you have to be careful about the number of revolutions you undertake; if you embrace too many, you may not be able to complete much.

Feeling overcome by the news and the 24-hour news cycle is commonplace - particularly in the current political climate of polemics, outrage, and misinformation. Though it was made in 2013, your work Colloquium is an elegant expression of the present-day political and cultural landscape.

RR: Where do you get your news from, what role does it play in your life, and do you feel that the news cycle feeds your work or distracts you from it?

PR: My news diet is a mix because often, I follow the social media accounts of activist groups, which often are quite radical but give you an unfiltered and critical "temperature" of local environments. Nevertheless, they have a global resonance because you see how things really are. Instagram accounts such as @heavydiscussion and @blackpowderpress, as well as hashtags like #nfac report events that you won't see on the mainstream press. However, I am subscribed to other news outlets such as The Economist, The Guardian, etc.

RR: Though your work often deals with heavy and complex subject matters, the tone is playful and humorous. Fine art, video/performance art, and activism all have a reputation for being somewhat po-faced or self-serious. I wonder if you actively inject humor into your work to change this perception - or to make the work more digestible - or is humor part of your character and the lens through which you see the world?

PR: Studying humor, you find that most jokes have a setup and a punchline. And the way that punchlines work is through shock; in the setup, you have a course of action where you detect that something is going in the wrong direction, but then the punchline is such a big disappointment that the way you cope with that shock is with laughter. I thought to myself what would be an "upward drop," a punchline so hilariously optimistic, so ridiculous, that it also leads to laughter. But most importantly, wild visionary ideas may have more traction than reasonable reforms. It is crucial to have this kind of exaggeration to create a compelling vision.

RR: Do you believe in the power of art and/or politics to inspire or mobilize change? Why?

PR: I believe that by action or inaction, we all shape the world and that art can produce change. If I destroyed 1,527 weapons, I like to think that some lives were saved by taking those guns out of circulation, and if I planted 1,527 trees, that also has an impact. However, I don't think that all art has to serve this purpose. The beauty of art may also be in its purposelessness, where the aesthetic experience has in itself, a use. Life is miserable without art, and culture is a basic need. That is one of the main reasons I am working on reactivating libraries. Reading a book is a life-changing experience, and literacy is one of the few things that has been proved to foster social mobility.

RR: As you mentionned, the 2008 artwork 'Palas por Pistolas' was an invitation to the inhabitants of the Mexican city of Culiacan to donate their guns in exchange for coupons and vouchers. The resulting collection of 1527 deadly firearms was then melted down and turned into garden shovels, which are used for planting trees in schools and art institutions. The spades are potent symbols of optimism and activism - I wonder what is the role of the gallery, and how do works of real-world activism change or transform in the neutrality of the white cube?

PR: I have never shown Palas por Pistolas in a gallery context, it has been shown in biennials and museums, but every time that it is shown, the piece is activated through the planting of trees. The museum has to organize a tree planting, which involves the local community and creates an opportunity to talk about gun control. There are two ways to look at the museum: as a fridge or as an oven. Museums are like fridges in the sense that they have a perfect temperature to keep works safe for posterity, but also, they can work as ovens where you cook new realities, and both functions are essential.

RR: Your work is multi-layered, and the objects presented to the audience have had a life before reaching the gallery space. Is it essential that everyone connects with the work's concept and that they understand its "story"? Or are you at ease with the experience of the work varying depending on the viewer's engagement with it?

PR: Art objects indeed tell a story, but often I am interested in the artwork being a platform for the audience to find a place where they can tell their own story. This is the case of Sanatorium, where there are pieces where I ask the audience to ask a secret, which is anonymous and put inside a bottle, and in exchange, they can read someone else's secret. Or I ask them to write their epitaph, and then you can also learn how different people's epitaphs accumulate. These artworks become more vibrant with the public's input, where content is generated by the user, and they continue to grow through this collective process. When I make instruments, it is up to the musicians to come up with music at the moment of interpretation, so I love doing work that is not a definitive creation, but that is only a steppingstone in the process of collective creativity.

RR: More traditional art forms, such as your sculptures in stone, are more open to interpretation. Are the sculptures rooted in the act of making - more preoccupied with shape, texture, color, and composition - or is there an equally direct 'message' or story behind these works as there is with the activism?

PR: In sculpture, form is meaning, and there is more to form that can be translated into concepts. That's the beauty of it: a sculpture consists of thousands of decisions. These are made during the process, often in a direct battle between hand and material, the sculpture's body, and the force applied to the operation of shaping, of sculpting. You think by doing. Some sculptures are abstract, and others are figurative, and many are something in between, but I certainly produce sculptures that have an "agenda." If I make a bust of a thinker, it works as an index for the body of work of that person, or they may reflect a moment. For instance, in 2016, I made a wood version of the liberty statue, so it looked like a trojan horse. It was a commentary on the permanent state of war where the United States waged war against other countries with the pretext of exporting democracy. The only ones who profit are the military-industrial sector that has hijacked US politics. I also made a Protesters series, where I wanted to retake the format of the statue. Statues have always been prominent figures, mostly men, and I wanted to make a monument to the anonymous protester who takes his own physical body to the streets, nowadays even risking their personal safety as a last resort to produce change.

RR: What do you find more inspiring: nature or man-made structures?

PR: I would say that I am more interested in art than nature. In art, you have interpretation, and I'm always interested in how judgment is produced, how it occurs. However, in sculpture, you still have a very close relationship with nature, mainly because you have to understand the structure of matter.

RR: What is beauty - and what role does it play in your work?

PR: Beauty is a difficult thing to describe or to define, first because the term doesn't have much currency in art. Also, it is a dynamic term, in the sense that there are aesthetic dimensions that vary according to each person's taste. However, when something is well resolved, it is because the artist has spent time taking care of composition, and as he may also be aware of the relevance, the work may have in its current context. If you notice, what I am saying is full of abstractions, it is always easier to pinpoint examples and then talk about its properties.

RR: Which artists, architects, or activists most inspire you?

PR: I have been lucky to have great mentors and teachers, to name a few. Antanas Mockus, a philosopher, mathematician, and former mayor of Bogota, Colombia, has been very influential. In 2016, I also had the chance to work with Noam Chomsky while teaching at MIT, on the making of a theatrical production called "Manufacturing Mischief." Another significant influence has been professor Doris Sommer from the Cultural Agents at Harvard University and writer Lauren Berlant at the University of Chicago.

RR: Do you like to live with your own works?

PR: I do live with my works, and there is a courtyard in the studio where the works spend some months before they are shipped to shows or collections. It is a stone garden where I get to spend time with the works because once they are gone forever. It is there where I test the resilience of the work because you aren't always in control of the context. Hence, the works must be good enough to resist a bad display in the future, so I am still happy to advise the placement and installation of the work.

RR: Any book suggestion(s)?

PR: Currently, I am enjoying reading the biography of Victor Serge, a communist revolutionary.

All images by Alex Lesage

[s-asuke]

Naruto FemSlash Week Day 3 - Unrequited - SakuHina

Warnings; angst, Neji is alive, onesided SakuHina, mentions of SasuSaku and NaruHina, NejiTen. It was always like this. The hangouts of Konoha 13 were bland, making Hinata enjoy them even less when Sasuke actually showed up. She didn't have anything about the last survivor of the Uchiha clan, she only bore a great sadness, because there was no way that Uchiha Sasuke wouldn't sit without someone pestering him. That 'someone' was Haruno Sakura. Hinata's sadness and dissapointment were imminent as she noticed her life long crush once again talk excitedly with Sasuke, her vivid pools crinkling at the edges and revealing the small wrinkles that begun to form from overworking and stressing out. Hinata had an urge to smooth them out, and even, if she possessed the bravery, kiss her nose, that scrunched up when Sasuke said something particularly unpleasant or sarcastic. She wondered which stars coupled to make the amount of beauty that resulted in her creation. Stark beauty of her smile and laughter made Hinata's face heat up to abnormal levels. People mistakened her love for the medic for affection directed towards the Jinchuuriki, and they couldn't be more wrong. Only Neji sensed otherwise. And when he did so, he would have an excuse for the two Byakugan users having to take their leave immediately. Naruto and Ino would call them party poopers, but the other Doujutsu user would 'hn', along with Tenten, who would just have more reason to sulk for her boyfriend leaving. When they walk out of the barbeque, it is safe territorry to ask. Neji is particularly gentle on such occassions. Weirdly so, but Hinata cherishes it with every cell of hers. "Hinata-sama, do you... still feel heartbroken over Sakura?" when he speaks these words, his Byakugan, white and bland as always actually shows a sprinkle of silver. Unlike Hinata's, whose was sparkling with unshed tears. "Neji-nii... yes... it does very much so... I, I don't know if I'm alive or not some days." "I see." He frowns, as if in deep thought, and his Byakugan activates, Hinata feeling invaded. "Your chakra is akin to the one of a sick man. I deduce further from this that you shoud tell her how you feel, before it all becomes meaningless and you cannot change her mind anymore. A mere, 'I will think about it', from the younger Hyuuga, and they part their ways. Hinata's legs feel like they are made of marble – she must carry it but never damage in any way. Why was it that her emotions revolved so strongly around the brave young woman so much after the war? During, she had kept her cool and remained flat-faced, emptying her heart for anything else other than fighting White Zetsu at the time. Her existence wasn't certain, her life perhaps ending in a few hours, or even before the next sunrise. So she endured. But when she seen the Team 7 emerge afterwards, after they defeated the famed ancestor of both Hyuuga, Uchiha and Senju, Hinata's heart burst with joy, unbeliavably so. Pride was intermingled with – her treasured soul perhaps wanting to merge with Sakura's, for them to feel the same. But life was cruel to the young heiress. Not a lot could be done at this point, so all Hinata looked forward too was the next morning, and her training with Neji. She had mastered her Twin Lion fists, the ones with whom she saved both Naruto and Neji with. She has made unbelievable progress and chosen to prove herself to her clan, reclaiming the supposed place of the heiress of the clan head. She had beaten Hanabi and made Jounin, clearly showing that she wanted to change the Hyuuga. Together with Neji, that is. Hearing about all of her achievements, Sakura beamed proudly at the darker haired female, hugging her in solidarity, the hug platonic, but everything Hinata needed at the moment – somewhat of a madness it was, loving someone who didn't love you back and allowing the fact to hurt you. So Hinata wept that night, because tomorrow, she will have the strength to confess. 0===0 Quiet morning was a familiar thing at the Hyuuga residence. Hinata wondered what Sakura's mornings were filled with. Did she wake up in a warm bed or with her back hurting at some hospital chair. She would bring her breakfast, perhaps even prompt her to go out, and take a brief walk. Then she would return to her residence and train. Train her heart out, just like she planned to do now. The training was taxing, but she needed the exaustion to tether her to the Earth before she ran to Sakura's apartment and confessed, particularly poured her soul out. And the evening when she would go and confess came. It looks like things run past all too well and all to quick when one keeps themselves busy. Hinata didn't want to think about the negative results, nor get her hopes up. She pretended she was going for a rapport, something fact-based and clinical. As Hinata passed Hanabi and her father, who smiled curtly (ever since grandfather died he has become more pleasant) and nearly ran to the still bustling streets of Konoha. While walking to the apartment of the pinkette, she actually shook in her tracks – her arms giving up, but she clenched – both her fists and her heart. The Hokage tower was near her apartment, so Tsunade-sama could call upon her greatest student when needed. The brown building rose up, and up, but Hinata couldn't be bothered with admiring Konoha's architecture. She entered the building nimbly, concealing her chakra. She felt a bile rise up her throat – but she decided, today is the day. The day that I leave it all behind, or make an unbreakable vow. The one set of stairs that led to Sakura Haruno's apartment was the longest flight of stairs Hyuuga Hinata ever had to pass. She even counted them – just to move her lips and occupy her brain. She noticed the cracks that were inflicted by the tooth of time, even if Konoha was rebuild years ago, there were tainted surfaces and slight cracks; she counted those, too. Reaching the door and cupping her own cheek, she knocked loudly, three curt times. There was a shout of, 'I'm coming!' and the lily-haired kunoichi towered over Hinata in no time. "Oh, Hina-chan!" She had that wide smile on, the one thing in this world that sometimes kept Hinata going. Her cheeks would puff out real nice, so the softness would seem to spill over the rims of her soft face, and crow's feet would form. Adoration that would spell out a shy, dorky smile on the Doujutsu user's face, as she entered, the exaustion dissolving from her feet and bones immediately. "So, what brings you here? I didn't expect you to come over." Hinata remembers that she jus tinvited herself over, and wanted to slap herself. "I-I'm sorry if I interrupted you in anything, I didn't mean to-" "Hinata," Sakura shook her head once more, "it's alright. Now what do you need?" Hinata blushed furiously, taken aback by the kindred soul across her. "I-well I..." she knew this would be tough. Actually saying it out loud – she had practiced many times with Neji, more than the Revolving Heaven these days, to say, 'Sakura-san, I harbor these feelings of love and affection towards you! Please accept them!', but nothing could prepare her for the actual moment of truth. "Hinata, please. If you'd-" "The truth is Sakura, that I don't know what to say." Tears fall. Gush. Tremble. Are reborn and die on her mouth – cheeks – neck. The subconcious drawing of the fucked up universe. "I know that I love you, first of all. I would die for you. And I said these words so many times in front of a mirror, it was insane. So, so even if you never love me back, I will always be by your side! 'Till the day I die! Because you are so strong, brave, intelligent, and you never stop amazing me, and I am proud of your achievements and development! Haruno Sakura, I love you very much and I hope you will give me a shot!" Silence. All except for the steady trickle of Hinata's tears down her pale cheeks – hollow eyes searching for an answer. Sakura looks as if she had been pierced by a Chidori – a thing likely to never happen, but the expression of amazement and horror was etched deeply into Hinata's mind from then. Eternities passed. Sakura gathered her hands in her lap, slightly trembling. Hinata waited for her lips to form an answer – and then, heavier than the Sun, Sakura speaks, "I can't." Hinata sinks. Everything in her burns – then rots – then slowly dies. What? Somehow everyhthing in Hinata sinks and darkens, blasting sanity away for a hundred feet. She doesn't know how she gets out, she doesn't know where she's going or where she's been, all she knows is that she is far away from home, perhaps even from Konoha, and that she is so weak. She spends the night in a nightmare. 0===0 Neji carried her, as it turns out. He had been caring for her for three days – and deceived the rest of the Hyuuga well. Hinata thinks the rehabilitation period is disgusting. Sakura was already in a relationship with Uchiha Sasuke, and Hinata's heart broke finally at its seams. Her Byakugan wouldn't activate, since there was no clarity of heart. Just a voidal hole in her chest – all consuming and inherently familiar. She thinks that it will come to pass, but it never does. Not even when she marries Naruto, just because. Not when she watches the renewed Uchiha Clan, its greatness shunning both Uzumaki and Hyuuga, which changed from the root. But Hinata watches from a distance. She and Sakura don't talk nearly as much, their connections and comunnications limited. So Hinata enjoys the heartbreak. Arises again. Repeats.

[lorenzoandmaria-blog]

from lorenzo // 042619

Apologies for the rather late reply. I don’t want to use tight schedules, tiring commutes, late-night meetings as alibis because for a correspondence like this, one has to make time when there is always no time to be found. I will also admit that I am so eager to hear from you as well and this is one of the good things amidst the bleakness of it all. And while, all the more I can’t do real-time responses, I hope you find in me a better listener and talker than the void :))

To be completely honest, I haven’t also been able to respond because the work here has soured my thoughts and I felt as though I would end up ranting here on messenger. I have been resorting to something I do when I’m sad, that is, humoring myself with irony and dark comedy. What I mean to say, is that if I wrote earlier, it would have been from abandon rather than necessity (this being the only reason why one should write, I believe) which wouldn’t reciprocate the justice you gave to my questions. Glad to hear about your stay in Isla Gigantes! Hearing how great the place and people were, I do hope that that will be the first of many trips for you to that island (I’m sure that with your talk, the locals won’t hesitate to drive you around to see the sunrises and sunsets again!). Thank you for believing in me and please know that it means a lot :’) I guess it takes one to know one, so allow me to also say that I believe that you are a catalyst of change as well —and that is at a 110% certainty :)) However, I have to ask (and this is the real cliché), what keeps you going? True, we don’t have to accommodate all the bad news, but sometimes, that which we do accommodate is heavy enough, where do take the heart to bear it? And when the breather is taken, where do you get the will to let it go and dive into the thick of things again? what does one do when advocacy and organizing has become a daily grind— so much so that even life-or-death decisions are sterilized with repetition? As to your questions, I won’t evade any! (unlike some people I know hehe) I get by the unstable internet by doing as much as I can offline then use the 5 mins of stable connection to send emails, messages, etc. Yes, I do need it for the work but my boss seems to think that I can get by just fine. I have no clue as to why I was suddenly placed here in Iligan and all the more stupefied as to why I agreed. I have yet to angrily confront my boss on this—what my colleagues used to call as—“mushroom management”. It’s part of my day job--- with all that political shit on the side. Very little, as I don’t know anyone here. To find possible peers, I need to first find out where is the inuman place where young minds plot revolutions and contemplate if they should call their exes  di ko pa ito nahahanap though. The office has good enough cellphone signal but it’s the long commutes really that cut me off. When I’m sad (as in really sad, not ironically happy) Mostly, I drink and scroll through Facebook or I might listen to a piece classical music packed with feels. Sometimes I read and reread poems that are also full of feels. That or drink with/talk to a friend. How about you, what do you do when you’re sad? Yes, I will be able to fly out or ride out but only when the need arises or merong conferences, meetings, etc. outside Iligan. Haha actually, last time I checked with my boss it wasn’t six months-1 year; it was “indefinitely,” which means that it depends on outcomes and external developments--- where and whenever shit needs to get done. The books I brought? I have a ton of e-books but those aren’t real books because they don’t have that smell when you flip the pages :)) The real ones I brought are two by Bienvenido N. Santos--- “Brother, My Brother” and “You Lovely People” (collections of short stories, all of them sad haha) and “The Eternal Lightness of Being” by Kundera (for a lighter, self-indulgent read). The recent events have somewhat compelled me to bring a Bible, “Biblia ng Sambayanang Pilipino” version— the choice version of every leftist who still believes in God (idk if I’m religious or what, that is a topic for a loooooong discussion) How are the days looking so far? Long and exhausting. Few hours of sleep, only a few bites of food, meetings meetings meetings papers papers papers— it’s like college all over again! So I guess I’ll be fine. The stakes are so much higher though, so mind-bogglingly high that I don’t really think about it much (if only to keep what’s left of my sanity intact) Aside from our exchange, there are a few other good things here. One in particular that I want to share with you, is about my only partner-in-crime here. He is a simple man, a good man but I just can’t describe him curtly here, it wouldn’t do justice—both to you and to this 67-year old veteran of at least two wars and a million other endeavors and episodes! I tell you, it’s a miracle this guy is still alive and still so jolly. I want to give you a portrait or a sketch of him, I just need a week or two please! (And as you might have guessed, I paint with words not brushstrokes, although how I wish!) Lastly, I wanted to ask about you, how you haven’t felt like yourself in a long while and how you haven’t felt so peaceful in such a long while. How do these two fit together? And why do you actively not think about things somewhat left behind after the deluge of advocacy work? And what about the jumble of things set aside? Although I must say, I can relate but I must also ask, just how much of ourselves must we set aside for a “greater purpose”? What does it mean for life to be good yet fleeting? Forgive me, but I don’t believe you have nothing more to say. :)) I hold as a maxim for life, the saying, “wherefore one cannot speak clearly, one must remain silent,” but if anything, you have been as clear as the sun and star light you have so poignantly described. Take your time as well (if only so that I may read your response when my schedule and internet connection becomes better! huhu) You will be happy to know, that yes, I am doing alright and if it’s alright, the heaviness of my sleepless days here would be lightened if I were to know that the same is true for you. I hope your day starts and ends as sweet and as wonderful as it can ever be. The warmest greetings and solidarity to you from the fields of Maigo, the uplands of Ozamiz and again, the bustling and beautiful city of Iligan and all the places I’ve been to the past days which in one way or another, have made their presence felt through the words of this message.

042619 //  1:57 AM

[greenlightmusicreviews2]

Father of All Motherfuckers - Green Day | Album Review • 4/10

Now Playing: Father of All Motherfuckers, the thirteenth outing from Oakland-based pop-punk legends Green Day.

“Everything that is happening in the world is right there on Twitter. It’s so confusing and it’s so depressing. I really wanted to create some kind of escape for people; I didn’t want to be so obvious.”

- Billie Joe Armstrong

If you’d like, go take a trip across town and check out the review I did of Green Day’s last record Revolution Radio on the old website.

My reappraisal of Revolution Radio is that it sucks, and - the three-part monster Uno! Dos! Tre! aside - it’s the band’s worst record. It was too clean, too safe and just utterly boring, though I guess I can’t fault the band for trying to play it safe after Uno! Dos! Tre! It does have the distinction of having one of my least favorite Green Day songs in “Still Alive,” a song so cookie-cutter, so rock radio safe, so full of platitudes that my brain just starts shutting down as soon as the jangly guitar riff begins. It’s singles were okay, “Revolution Radio” has that god-awful guitar riff that burrows its way into your brain like one of those larva from The Wrath of Khan; “Bang Bang” is pretty good and actually recaptures some of the energy found on American Idiot, or even 21st Century Breakdown.

On Father of All Motherfuckers, Green Day continues their “return to form” with their shortest album since their studio album debut. Butch Walker, alongside Chris Dugan and the boys in green themselves, helps with the production job. If you ever parsed through my writings before, then you’ll know that I actually really like Butch Walker, both as an artist and as a producer. The production on this record is very slick, very tight, and is doing its damnedest to sound pretty contemporary, despite what the somewhat cringeworthy promotional ads might suggest (more on that later). Not to say that it isn’t also trying to be an old school throw-back “uncut rock” record, because holy jeez there are ‘50s style rock & roll freak-outs on here.

A lot of what you hear, especially on songs like “Father of All...” is kind of reminiscent of the garage rock revival of the early 2000s from bands like the Vines, Arctic Monkeys, maybe a little White Stripes - but it’s also reminiscent of this third-wave alternative rock that was simmering on rock radio over the last few years, with artists coming to mind like Holy White Hounds, Glorious Sons and Dinosaur Pile-Up. Except Green Day is about four to five years a little too late catching up with the sound. HOWEVER, followers/fans of Green Day may take notice that it does line up with the sound found of Foxboro Hot Tubs, the garage rock side project of the boys in green, just updated for the late 2010s. The problem I think that this album suffers from primarily is that there just doesn’t feel like a whole lot of urgency the further you get through the record, despite this sense of rock & roll urgency and revivalism that underscores the theme of the album.

Tracks 3 through 5 (”Oh Yeah!,” “Meet Me on the Roof,” and “I Was a Teenage Teenager”) just suck the life from the album, so when it picks back up with “Stab You in the Heart,” it’s hard to regain that momentum. Not to mention, the three aforementioned duds feature some of the lamest parts of the album including embarrassing vocal lines, a total overuse of hand-claps by this point and rock tropes that just aren’t done with any gusto and drag along like a teenager walking to bus stop at 6:30 AM. Surprisingly, Green Day manages to do a spot-on Weezer impression on “I Was a Teenage Teenager,” which is a bizarre twist of fate. “Stab You in the Heart” is a goofy, self-aware send-up of old school rock & roll that I think works pretty well, and is miles better than the previous three songs. It doesn’t pretend to be anything except what it is, which is more than what you can say for a song like “Oh Yeah!” or even “Meet Me on the Roof,” a song that just gets way too far into itself and sounds like a parody.

Green Day does a well enough job adapting their sound to this palate. From the chunky rock riffs, to the compressed and acoustic-digital sound of the kit, to the piano and light-synth work, to the sing-along choruses, to the super bass heavy production sound... but those hand-claps, they are immensely overused. It's an album that doesn't advance Green Day's discography in any meaningful way. Although it's touted as this "100% pure uncut rock" album, it's really not as visceral or energetic as it's made out to be. Myself a struggling disciple of all things rock, this record has some great sounding ideas, riffs and transitions. A hint of what makes this sort of music cool, rebellious and lively is shown on songs like “Father of All..” and “Take the Money and Crawl" - the latter of which is actually pretty fucking badass and has the hallmarks of what makes this kind of music great. I actually hear Armstrong's punk snarl and vitriol, and the sonic manipulation on the vocals is kinda cool, but too often it just feels like these songs were taken out of the oven too soon. A song like "Meet Me on the Roof" is a slapped together piece of soda shop faux-nostalgia that is supposed to pay homage to rock's forefathers, but... just, no. No.

That said, the more I listened and spent time with it, the less the album as a whole appeared to be anything remarkable. It ends with "Graffitia," which, I mean, it's a song. It's so bland and sounds almost identical to the Toby Keith song "Beer For My Horses," which is a much better song. If you turn on any classic rock station in the United States, in between the Who, Led Zeppelin, ELO and the Police, you can now find Green Day - alongside aging alt rockers like the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Foo Fighters and Soundgarden. The musical landscape has most certainly changed since Dookie dropped in 1994. Rock music, defined by its guitar-heavy focus and loud drum performances, is not the zeitgeist. Green Day’s infamous subway ad that boasted “no features...no trap beats” is remarkably telling of where rock music still remains.

As someone who grew up on rock music and still really likes guitar-heavy music, I can’t help but feel a bit of sympathy and solidarity with a band like Green Day when they posture in such a way that feels like they’re trying to lead a rock revival of sorts. Father Of All Motherfuckers misses the mark, despite myself really wanting to enjoy the entire record. It's not as bad as people make it out to be, but it is disappointing in a lot of places.

Though I enjoyed it more than Revolution Radio, there's not a lot of immediacy and a lot of mediocrity. It's stripped down to "the basics," but that's about all you get.

Father of All Motherfuckers: 5/10

Favorite Songs: "Father of All..." • "Stab You in the Heart" • "Sugar Youth" • "Take the Money and Crawl"

[clubofinfo]

Expert: Orientation What does it mean to be a political agitator in the 21st century? Until about a year ago, political agitation for me was inseparable from face-to-face interaction in one-on-one group settings or in making or listening to a public speech. This was the foundation for building and sustaining political solidarity. But is there a place for agitation on Facebook? After all, in political Facebook groups there is discussion about what is going on in the political economy but how much do these discussions contribute, if anything, to building socialism. Is it “just talk” which doesn’t lead anywhere, or does Facebook discussion move people to then take action in face-to-face settings? Is participating in Facebook political discussions an incipient form for political activity or is it a distraction from it? While face-to-face agitation is clearly superior in terms of getting anyone to commit to anything, face-to-face is limited in its reach. The Facebook group Jill Stein Dank Meme has about 50,000 members. The reach of Facebook is overwhelmingly superior to face-to-face. My other question has to do with whether intergenerational solidarity can be built better through face-to-face encounters or on Facebook. In face-to-face interaction, status indicators of class, race, gender and age are present. You can find out where the person lives, what kind of work they do, and who their friends are. Knowing these things both can provide the deepening of political relationships as well as boxing them in. But on Facebook this kind of information can be somewhat suppressed. In terms of building political relationships does relative anonymity work for or against building an intergenerational political community? I do not have answers to these questions, but I do want to share my experiences in with both settings and then draw some tentative conclusions. In the first section I want to show the power of face-to-face intergenerational influence by telling a story of the impact of three encounters I had with the anarchist Murray Bookchin in the early 1970’s. In the last section I will discuss my own fledgling influence over young socialists on Facebook over the past few months. In order to show the power of face-to-face interaction, I need to talk about the class and political implications of my first 22 years before meeting Murray as a testament of how powerful face-to-face can be. From grease ball to proto-hippie I am no red diaper baby. I was born to a conservative Italian Catholic family in 1948 in Brooklyn. My mother’s father was a shoemaker in a tiny store on Bushwick Avenue. He had no employees. My father’s side of the family was very poor (“on the dole”, as they used to say). His own father deserted them and his single mother, along with six other siblings, raised him. My father’s side of the family resembled some of the old James Cagney movies: his brothers were all petty criminals — numbers runners, betting on the horses, loan sharks – and the women joined the convent to pray for the men. My father had drawing talent, which he cultivated despite his family making fun of him. When he was 17 he took his pen-and-ink sketches into Manhattan and some of the commercial artists took him under their wing. He was the only one on his side of the family to “make good”. My parents understood that while economically they were middle class they really were not culturally middle class. They hoped to bridge the gap by sending me to Catholic schools—grammar school, high school and college. When we moved from Brooklyn to Jamaica, Queens they did not know which neighborhoods had Catholic schools that were middle class. The grammar school they sent me to, Saint Nicholas of Tolentine, was in a working class neighborhood. Most of the kids I went to school with were Irish or Italian and their parents were butchers, firemen or cops. Class conflicts arose between how my parents wanted to raise me against the expectations from these kids. I had the same situation when I played baseball in the sandlots. In both cases I got my first taste of what Erik Olin Wright called “contradictory class locations.” In both cases working class kids won. You either learned to fight or you were ostracized, shunned or tormented as only children can do. Like most people of my generation, I can testify that Catholic grammar school was hell on Earth. Holy Cross High School wasn’t much better. For twelve years I received about 30 hours a week of authoritarian propaganda along with another two hours on the weekend. By my junior year the cracks were starting to show. Thanks to “Murray the K” of WINS radio station, I got exposure to rhythm and blues music, which besides baseball, was an island of sanity. I used to go to the Brooklyn Fox Theater which was predominantly working class. Then I stumbled across three rhythm and blues stations—WWRL, WLIB in New York and WKJR, in Newark. I used to go by myself to the Apollo Theatre in Manhattan to catch some of the acts. When my parents enrolled me in a Catholic community college it was the last straw. I dropped out of college, moved away from home and back to Brooklyn. I went to work in music stores in Manhattan, including the famous Colony Records, for a couple of years. By this time it was 1968, the Attica riots, the Anti-war and Civil Rights movements were coming to a head. Thanks to a few of the political “freaks” in the music store I finally made the transition from “Flatland” to “Spaceland”, as mathematician Edwin Abbot called it. After about a year I applied to VISTA to avoid the draft for the Vietnam War. Then I received a letter from VISTA inviting me to their training program in Atlanta. I “decided” to go (as much as a 20 year old “decides” anything). I lasted a week. There was one of the VISTA orientation leaders who I really liked. On about the fifth day of training, our group was on a bus with him heading for some workshop. I cornered him on the bus and asked him some very pointed questions. He admitted to me he was a Communist and this was all reformist crap. That was all the reassurance I needed. By force of circumstances that would require more space than I have, I spent the next two years hitchhiking around the country with a six-month stint in Denver Colorado. Once I began hitchhiking, I started to develop an interest in reading. I didn’t have a mentor to teach me the order in which to read things. So when I settled in Denver, I developed my own six month reading program in which I read about 6-8 hours a day five days a week, in addition to holding down a part-time job as a library page in the Denver Public Library. I read about the history of socialism, the elite theory of Mosca and Pareto, McNeill’s Rise of the West, Mumford and Wilhelm Reich – who was white-hot at the time. Despite being enthralled with my new self-education, I was lonely. I attended some of the demonstrations in the city, but they all were about single issues. I wanted to find a socialist group which could frame these issues, but I didn’t know where to look. All the books I read were about anarchism as a historical movement. Woodcock’s history of anarchism claimed that anarchism had its day. I didn’t quite believe that. Weren’t there contemporary anarchists? I made friends with people who had a radical bookstore in Denver. There was some anarchist literature in the bookstore, but it seemed like there was a current anarchist organization that was writing about contemporary issues. One guy, Tuggie, was very friendly to me. He told me about their collective, but I really did not know what the next step was. I felt that there was some secret code I had to decipher to “join the movement”, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I was too embarrassed to ask. In any event, Tuggie showed me a book called Post-Scarcity Anarchism by Murray Bookchin. I tore through that book in three days. “This guy must be alive!” I thought. No more dead anarchists for me! I found out Murray lived in New York. I packed my stuff and moved back to New York and stayed with my parents till I could find a place to live. First Encounter with Murray Some time in January of 1972, feeling very lonely, I decided to see if I could find Murray in the phone book. Part of me thought “If you were a famous anarchist, would you have your phone number in a phone book?” Hell no! But desperately I poured through the Manhattan phone book anyway. I couldn’t believe it! There was his name in the book. What the fuck! Now for the real test. Do I have the nerve to call him up? There was something about the way Murray wrote that book that made him seem approachable. After about an hour of pacing around in the kitchen, I picked up the phone and called. Of course, I hoped no one would answer to let me off the hook. But someone did answer. It was some kid about my age. “Can I speak with Murray?” I said, my heart racing. The kid said “sure”. After a few seconds of talking behind the scene, Murray came on the phone. “Murray, you don’t know me,” I blurt out, “but I read your Post Scarcity Anarchism book and I want to be part of this. I’m pretty isolated now. Can you give me some direction?” He asked me if I wanted to come over. What the fuck! “Yeah! Where are you?” He gave me his address. It was something like 2nd Avenue and East 6th street. I told him I lived in Jamaica, Queens and I would be there in about 45 minutes. I left the house and probably ran the entire five long blocks to reach the subway. I reached his address. It was kind of a beat-up apartment building, but nothing was going to stop me. A young kid answered the door. I think his name was Joel Whitehouse. Very friendly, he said “are you Bruce?” I nod nervously. He directs me to the kitchen where Murray must have been holding court. There must have been about three kids my age. Murray asked me some questions about myself. I was able to convey to everyone that I was serious about anarchism, that I had some experiences that qualified me, including some LSD trips which I’m sure met with approval from the other kids, if not Murray. The whole time I was there all of them made me feel that I was welcome and that I was part of something larger. Most of the time was spent with them telling me places I could go to get plugged in. That was the best 90 minutes of therapy I ever had! I don’t remember if I hugged Murray or not. Being Italian it wasn’t far-fetched, but I think I was too much in awe of him to do that. Romance among the anarchists Within the next day or so I started to volunteer at the War Resisters’ League. I did phone calling, leafleting and general office work. People were very nice to me but I could see that there were tensions between some of the volunteers. What came as a shock to me (and which I’ve never gotten over) was how miserable leftists treat each other over the slightest theoretical differences. I thought leftists would embody the new world we wanted to create in how they lived and treated each other. I guess I was too much of a psychologist or process junkie to understand that a lot people join the movement for reasons other than to just build socialism, as Eric Hoffer argued. At one of the War Resisters League meetings I noticed a woman named Susan. I first worked with her one-on-one as a volunteer. She was very kind in explaining to me how things worked. Now at the meeting I saw her power to articulate things at a higher level in a group meeting. I become even more attracted to her. We continued to build a relationship. Finally after a couple of months, I asked her if she had a boyfriend. “Yes”. I was disappointed, but not surprised. Then she said “are you asking me out?” “Well I was going to” I said, “but you are taken”. “My boyfriend and I do not have a monogamous agreement”, she responded. This confuses me. “You mean you want to go out with me even though you have a boyfriend?” “Yes”, she replied. Now I am really turned on and petrified all at the same time. We fooled around. A week or two later she told me her boyfriend, Jack, who lives in the West Village, is looking for a roommate. “Would you be interested?” she asks me. Whaaaatttttt?? “Yeah,” she said, “I told him about you and he’d like to meet you.” So this is what Emma Goldman went through, I thought to myself. “OK, I’ll meet him”. I meet Jack and like him very much. Nothing between Susan and me is mentioned. I say I need to think about being his roommate. I have to figure out whether I want to go on as a threesome and jeopardize my potential living situation with Jack or do I want to be safe, stop seeing Susan and just work on building a stable home-life with Jack. In one of the few sane decisions of my 20’s, I decided on the second course. Susan seemed to take everything in stride when I explained that I am in over my head. I continued to volunteer with War Resisters League, go to demonstrations with Jack and Susan and others and work for United Parcel Service at night unloading trucks. Second Encounter with Murray At UPS I worked a graveyard shift: 11 at night till 3 in the morning. I took the train home from the Long Island City plant back to the village, got to sleep about 4:30 AM and was up by about noon. One day in the late morning I was on 6th Avenue in the West Village around 8th Street where the great basketball games go on, and had just come out of a supermarket. I saw an older guy walking toward me. It looked like Murray. “Could it be? I haven’t seen him since I met him a couple of months ago at his place. It is him!”. I didn’t expect him to remember me because I figured I was just one of hundreds of lost hippies looking to him for direction. But I was also happy to see him because I was in a much better place psychologically, and wanted to show him I turned out okay and was no longer a basket case. “Murray, remember me? You invited me to your house a couple of months ago?” He looked at me hard, and then said “yes” after pointing his finger at me a couple of times. “How are you doing now?” I rolled my eyes and said “I am in such a better place now. I volunteer at the War Resisters League and I live in the West Village with another anarchist roommate. I work at UPS at night unloading trucks.” After a pause, I looked him straight in the eye and said “you really helped me Murray”. “Well, good” he said. That was the last time I ever spoke with him directly. In retrospect, I wish I could have said “I’ll never forget you”, but I had no way of knowing it would be the last time. Third Encounter with Murray – One of the benefits of working with the War Resisters League was that I also found out about radical events around Manhattan. One event was a book club meeting, which I think was sponsored once a month on a Thursday night by the Libertarian League. I had never heard of this, but one of my comrades told me about it. When he told me Murray Bookchin was going to speak, I was ecstatic. Two weeks later I came upon this sturdy one or two story red brick building. I got there 30 minutes early to look around. There were these wonderful old people, but they were not like the old people I was used to: cranky, complaining about their children. These people were warm, offering me cookies. They were like my Italian grandparents, but they were radicals. Around me I could hear others arguing about the Spanish and Russian Revolutions. I remember someone telling someone else he knew Lenin was full of it even before the Bolsheviks took power. However, I began to feel uncomfortable when the number of old people in the room kept growing. I began to feel out of place. Then Murray came in and immediately started talking with the old-timers. Slowly, close to 7:00 some people my age began to drift in. Murray ambled to the lectern at about ten minutes after seven and began speaking. Within about 10 minutes the place was packed. People were standing around the perimeters. There were now many people my age, naturally late. I was riveted by what Murray had to say, but I was also able to take a step back and notice what was before me. This was a truly intergenerational event that I had never seen before. Well, of course, I did: when I was in church as a child with my parents. But this was no church like I had ever seen! It was better than any church. My eyes moved around the room. I saw old people listening, young people listening and the room was electric. Imagine this intergenerational gathering as a gathering of trees. On the periphery were the old grandfather trees on their way out, yet soaking it all in, many, perhaps, feeling more confident that with Murray at the helm, the next generation couldn’t go too far off. At the core were us seedling trees, green and immature. At the center, at the heart, stood Murray Bookchin, spanning the generations, in his prime. That is one of my fondest radical moments ever. Many people may disagree with all of Murray’s politics or some of it, as I do now. But few would deny that despite being 50 years old he had a way with people in their twenties, at the very time when Jerry Rubin or Abbie Hoffman were saying to never trust anyone over 30. When I tell my story about my encounters with Murray to older anarchists they shake their heads and say that was typical of him. It was all in the setting of political organizing. He did not get this following because these people were his students. He was drawing people to him for 10 years before he was eventually given a professorship. Murray knew how to build intergenerational solidarity like no one I had ever seen. I’ve been a college teacher for 27 years and I certainly have influenced students. I have learned to get along with people 40 years younger than I am, but this is not political organizing. Most of my students have to take my classes for reasons that have nothing to do with my political views or me. Murray drew people to him without having anything to hold over them like a grade. From Face-to-Face to Facebook At this time last year I had no Facebook page and was completely cynical about the whole operation. But last spring my partner and I hired a social media movement consultant, Susan, to help us with our political website, and she insisted we have a Facebook Page. Since my partner manages our website and already had her own Facebook account, I figured I’d leave it to her. It was only a casual comment by Susan that helped me change my mind about Facebook. She talked about people who went on Hillary’s page in order to “start up trouble”. Since she was no doubt a supporter of Clinton, I had to be delicate. I asked about what you had to do to make comments. When I found out how easy it was, my mind began racing. At the time I was very excited about the followers of Bernie Sanders as possible converts to socialism, but wasn’t sure how to reach them. Then I thought about Facebook. I searched for the most left-wing group of the Democratic Party, which seemed to be “Bernie or Bust” Facebook group. Posting on my partner’s Facebook account, I then began agitating for the Sandernistas to get out of the Democratic Party. As my posts were controversial and constantly generated responses, my partner began to insist that I get my own account. After a couple of weeks of arguments, I agreed. I lasted on Bernie or Bust until primary night when I was kicked off. I did this for two months until the primary was over. Then I switched to the Jill Stein Dank Meme group and tried to move people to make a more explicit commitment to socialism. Before any of you think I have become obsessed with Facebook and spend all my time there, I actually treat it as a job. I spend an hour every morning on it. This is part of my political commitment to agitate every day. Is Intergenerational Solidarity Possible on Facebook? Is it Desirable? I am very fussy about who my Facebook friends are. I examine their posts, look at their profile, and peruse the groups they belong to before deciding to accept their friend requests. As I said earlier, the status markers like class, race, gender, age, occupation and where they live are less easy to determine. What is even more interesting is that I don’t seem to care, since no one asks me about the kind of work I do or where I live, maybe it doesn’t matter to them much either. Still, one thing does stand out. Most of the “friend requests” I receive include their tiny profile pictures. They are not large enough to see clearly unless I go to their page. But when I look at their pictures occasionally I am astounded by how young they seem. Some of my Facebook friends look like they are still in high school, and I’d say most are in their twenties. I am old enough to be their grandfather, yet here we are pecking away. There is a group called “Baby Communist Support Group” which specifically helps young comrades to get their bearings. I have sometimes used my training as a psychologist to help people in this group with depression and anxiety in the similar ways that Murray helped me in my first encounter with him. What’s cool is that they don’t ask me for my credentials, nor do I volunteer them. Is there such a thing as electronic intergenerational solidarity? The cynic in me says no. You have built nothing with these people. They know nothing about you and there is no continuity developing. It is true that when I have tried on occasion to take the next step: to send an email or have a phone conversation, it has not worked very well. Other than my partner – and 4 or 5 other friends that I know personally as well as through Facebook, I have not yet met a single one of my Facebook friends. If I never actually meet any of my Facebook friends, is that a sign the whole project is a failure? If we never talk on the phone or exchange emails, does this mean I am deluding myself? Most of all, if the fruit of all these electronic interactions does not result in the formation of joint political in-person actions, like founding a party and engaging in a strike does that mean I am not doing any “real agitation”? Granted Murray Bookchin influenced many people, not just because of building face-to-face political relationships, but because he wrote books, made public speeches and attended conferences. Still he could not reach potentially thousands of people every day. I am no Murray Bookchin, but I have thousands of young people I can influence every day by investing at least an hour or longer if I choose. Am I co-creating intergenerational solidarity? Am I wasting my time? My conclusion is that Facebook is good for spreading seeds far and wide and talking people through the clarification and support stages of being political radicals. Face-to-Face work is for nailing down the time, place and circumstances and for building a political practice. However, all the political practice that develops can in turn return to Facebook for consolidating and spreading more seeds. Since my story is experiential and I claim no expertise, I welcome your feedback either in direct emails or by sending me articles pertaining to the subject. http://clubof.info/