#and yet its impossible for me to reproduce

[crqelsummer]

"alright, you want me angry? you've got me angry." - otrera ult.

-

agent 22 -- adelia fleur is a hotheaded radiant hailing from france. she's ready to put her money where her mouth is and won't dare let you forget it.

(hi yes its me. i spent 10 hours on this. help.)

[mackjlee9]

|How is he when he's jealous?|

Warning; top!amab!reader, no pronouns used, dan heng has two cocks, dom to sub dan heng, slight possessive dan heng.

(I'm planning to make a series of this with the hsr men so... look out for that, and if you have ideas you know where to find me)

Masterlist.

Honkai; Starrail

When Dan Heng gets jealous...

•He doesn't show it, at all.

•To everyone else it almost looks as if he doesn't care his partner is being hit on by a random stranger, trying to get his number and go on a date with him.

•No one sees how jealous he is, except you.

•He gets so possessive it's almost funny.

•He shows it in his little mindless actions, like holding your hand out of the blue, sticking way too close, and calling you a pet name he only calls you in private.

•In public you're just (M/n), but alone you're 'Honey', sometimes even the silly 'Muffin' when he's too sleepy to care.

•His dragon becomes nature a problem all on its own.

•He found it hard to hide his jealousy before, but now? He can't control the urge to latch himself onto you and drag you away.

•He's fully aware that vidyadhara can't reproduce naturally, but he thinks -irrationally- the only way to make you his and only his is... if you impregnate him.

•He knows how impossible that is, but that is not stopping him from trying.

•Which led to him feeling his senses going numb at the strong scent he felt when he entered your room in the Express.

•He can feel you everywhere on him and it's driving him crazy.

•He's almost surprised at how desperate he feels, not wasting a second to push you down on your bed and climb on top of you, undressing you and himself while his hands roam all over your body, your mouths latch together.

•The way he sinks on your cock has you rolling your eyes into the back of your head, and he smirks at the tight grip you have on his hips, holding him still.

•He loves how full he feels when your cock is deep inside him, stretching him open and how his tight walls accommodate to your size.

•"You belong to me, honey... Only me."

•He marks your chest with his nails, those that grew just slightly longer and sharper, hearing you hissing in pain but not telling him to stop.

"Your mine... A-all mine, fuck..." Dan Heng's eyes glowed for a moment before they rolled into the back, biting his bottom lip as he moved his hips back and forth, grinding down on you, feeling your cock stretching his insides in a way that made his mind blank.

However, he was going too slow for your liking, you could feel your orgasm so close and yet so far with how slow he was moving. You couldn't take it anymore.

"Yeah, I'm yours," your hands gripped onto his hips tightly and turned both of you around, pinning him down to your bed, "Only yours, love... No one can make me feel this good," your hold moved to his thighs, folding him under your weight.

You watched how Dan Heng struggled to hold in his moans, the veins on his neck becoming prominent at the effort he was putting into keeping quiet, but you knew exactly how to have him moaning your name. How to have him cumming all over himself, over and over again.

You knew his body better than he knew it himself.

Slowly moving back, your cock rubbed all the right spots inside Dan Heng as you began to pull out, hearing him whine and reach his hands out to you, "Don't... I want- please, d-don't pull o-out..."

A smirk grew on your face, and you leaned closer to him, your warm breath hitting his sensitive ears, causing his walls to tighten around your cock. Your teeth gently graced the tip of his ear and his body tensed, a choked moan filling the room as his nails left more scratches on your chest.

You glanced down to see how Dan Heng's cum had stained his stomach and chest, both of his cocks twitching and leaking. Without a second thought, your hand moved to grace the red and glistening tip of one of them, only for Dan Heng to grip your wrist, tears in his glowing eyes as he looked at you.

"I just... Came, it's s-sensitive," you hum in response, and release a sigh on his ear, making him tremble and whimper, his hold loosening.

Your hand wraps around his cock and his hips squirm, trying to get away from your hold but whining your name when he feels your hand stroking his cock.

"Please- I don't... Wanna cum li-like this, fuck~," your hand slows down, leaving Dan Heng only feeling your touch gracing him, and it's even worse than before, it's too little and he knows he can cum from that alone, "I want to cum... Wh-while you fuck me, please..."

You watch as tears fill his eyes before making their way down his temples. You kiss his tears away, easing your cock inside him again, "This is why..." You back away and hold his wrists above his head, hearing his whines and whimpers getting louder, "I'm yours, and you're mine, love."

(I fucked it up🧍)

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[bookishdiplodocus]

A longread on writing comedy

This is what I do to research writing comedy:

What helped me most was analyzing a lot of jokes: "It's funny. Why is it funny? How does this joke work?" Usually it's something that subverses the expectations in a specific way or an unexpected collision of two things. (Like a pun is a collision of sound and meaning.) For my analysis, I wonder: "What is the expectation after the set-up? Why do I have this expectation? How does the pay-off subverse the expectation? Why does it still make sense in relation to the set-up?"

For example: I unleashed this kind of analysis on the movie George of the Jungle. It has a surprisingly high hit rate, I think around three jokes per minute in the first one third of the movie, and it still manages to get the story going and the characters introduced. I’ve mentioned this before, but I don’t think I gave examples, and you know I’m all about the teaching.

I found at least 17 types. Heads up, this is going to be a longread.

Type 1: Puns

Narrator: “When they finally beheld the mighty Ape Mountain…” [They see a mountain shaped like a gorilla head.] Narrator, cont’d: “… they reacted with awe.” All: “Aww.” Narrator: “I said ‘awe”. A-W-E.” All: “Ooh!” Narrator: “That’s better.”

Explanation:

The pun lies in the fact that “awe” and “aww” sound the same.

There is a visual type of comedy as well that we can’t effectively reproduce in writing: the mountain is shaped like a gorilla head.

BTW: the narrator defies genre expectations by interacting with the characters, and the characters defy genre expectations by being able to hear the narrator.

Type 2: Tone of voice

Narrator, about the main characters: “Scraped and boo-booed, they searched high and low.

Explanation:

“Boo-booed” is a children’s word, not the tone you would use for a hero. Compare “tummy” and “stomach”.

Type 3: Defying genre expectations

[The guide falls off a rope bridge into a deep chasm.] Narrator: “Don’t worry—nobody dies in this story. They just get really big boo-boos.”

Explanation:

The narrator is breaking the fourth wall.

Again: tone of voice with the “boo-boos”.

Contrast between the boo-boo and the injuries one usually suffers after falling into a deep chasm.

Type 4: Not defying genre expectations

[A lion appears from the bushes. A baby monkey makes a sound like “uh-oh”.] [The baby monkey does the Tarzan call and bangs its chest.] [The lion flees.] [The monkey giggles.] [The monkey gives George a thumbs up.] [From the bushes, the lion winks at George. George winks back.]

Explanation:

Expectation: the lion is a danger to the baby monkey and George will need to fight it to save the monkey.

Defying expectations: the monkey and the lion are in on the plan.

Not defying genre expectations: George of the Jungle is clearly based on Tarzan. George doesn’t refer to that fact, but the monkey does, by doing the Tarzan call and banging its chest.

Improbable: monkeys who giggle and give thumbs up.

Impossible: lions who wink.

Type 5: Contrast

Narrator: “Meanwhile, 43 vines away, George’s kingdom is being threatened by a terrifying intruder.” [We see the adorable Leslie Mann, who plays Ursula, smiling and talking to the camera.] Ursula: “Hi! It’s me again!”

Explanation:

Contrast between what the narrator says and what we see.

The narrator isn’t lying. He refers to Lyle and the poachers who will be introduced in this scene.

There’s also humor in the phrase “43 vines away”, because of the overt specificity and because a vine is not a measure of distance.

Type 6: Oblivious character

[Lyle takes a Polaroid picture of one of the guides.] Lyle: “Do you like it? Magic picture. Yet another gift from America. Here you go. You’re welcome.” [The guide replies in Swahili. There is no translation in the subtitles.] [All the guides laugh.] [The guide continues in Swahili. Only the last few words are in English: “35 mm.” The guide takes his own camera and snaps a picture of Lyle.] [All the guides and Ursula laugh.] Lyle, not amused: “Translation, please.” Other guide: “He says he likes your magic pictures, but he prefers the resolution of the Leica 35 mm transparencies.” [Everyone but Lyle laughs.] Other guide, cont'd: “He also says your lens is dirty, but he has the equipment to clean it for you.”

Explanation:

Lyle doesn’t understand Swahili, while the guides understand everything Lyle says to them in English.

The fact that Ursula, Lyle's fianceé, understands Swahili and laughs along with the guides, is adds contrast to his obliviousness.

Lyle is the butt of the joke. He humiliates the guides and now he’s humiliated on his own turf while the guides don’t stoop down to his level.

This joke is threefold: 1. The set-up: Lyle is the arrogant asshole who thinks he’ll show the locals about technological development. 2. The guide is not only not impressed, he knows Polaroid and has a camera of his own, and is knowledgeable. 3. And he demonstrates his superiority in a (more or less) polite way.

Type 7: Slapstick

[George is swinging on the vines.] Narrator: “He is swift. He is strong. He is sure. He is smart.” [George hits a tree and falls.] Narrator, deadpan: “He is unconscious.”

Explanation:

Slapstick is another type of humor that barely translates to written fiction, when the actors behave silly, for example by falling over, hurting themselves, or others. It's often over the top. Laurel & Hardy is a well-known example of slapstick.

Type 8: Alliteration

Narrator: “The tired trekkers trudged on feverish footsies over perilous paths.”

Explanation:

If several words in each other’s vicinity start with the same letter, it’s called alliteration.

Note that "footsies" is another example of a contrast in tone of voice—it’s another children’s word.

Type 9: Improbable things

[George spins a lion over his head.] George: “George not even trying hard.”

Explanation:

While not impossible, spinning an actual lion over one’s head is improbable and thus goes against real-world expectations.

Type 10: Impossible things

[A gorilla called Ape enters George’s tree house and scares Ursula.] Ursula: “What does it want? What does it want?” Ape: [points at a big book] “It wants its Physician’s Desk Reference, if you don’t mind, unless you’d rather die of dengue fever, of course.” [Ursula faints again.]

Explanation:

Gorillas can’t talk, can’t read, and aren’t usually well-versed in curing tropical diseases.

Type 11: Breaking social norms

[Ursula is unconscious. George licks her face, clearly meaning well.]

Explanation:

In our society, it is not only considered impolite but also gross to lick the face of a stranger. The fact that George does this anyway, clearly not realizing he does something wrong, is a subversion of what we’d expect of social norms and behavior.

Type 12 and 13: Hyperbole and understatement

[Earlier, Ursula fainted when she saw Ape talk and do human things.] [Ape is reading when he sees Ursula look at him. He panics, throws the book away, starts grunting, and bangs his chest.] [Ursula faints again.] Ape: “Eh.”

Explanation:

Ursula fainting again is a hyperbole: a reaction that is stronger than expected.

Ape saying “Eh.” is an understatement: a reaction less strong than expected.

Type 14: Obvious repetitions

Ursula: “… And I didn’t want my fianc—Um, this guy I was with, to worry.” Narrator, a few moments later: “George and Ursula set out on a desperate search to find her fianc—Uh, that guy she was with.”

Type 15: Stating the obvious

[We see the guide’s hand, pointing at a really big footprint in the mud.] Narrator: “Meanwhile, back at the really big footprint in the mud, (...)”

Explanation:

Stating the obvious can be funny because the audience doesn’t expect you to do or say this because it is so very obvious.

Type 16: Adult humor

[George watches Ursula sleep.] George: “George having stirrings of special feelings right now.” Ape, drily: “I see.” George: “Good thing she same species, huh?”

Explanation:

Ape’s reply, “I see”, could be an innuendo, but it doesn’t come across as a joke (to me at least). Maybe it’s downplayed because it’s a children’s movie.

If this is an innuendo, it’s a play on words. “I see”, figuratively, for “I understand”, or literally for “Yes, I can tell from your erection.”

“Good thing she same species” because George shouldn’t have stirrings of special feelings for animals.

Type 17: Rhyme

[George is swinging on a vine.] George: “Look, like this!” Song: “He flies through the air with the greatest ease.” Song, cont’d: “Our daring young man on the flying trapeze.” [George hangs upside down from a vine.] George: “Look, no hands.” Song, cont’d: “His movements so grateful, all girls he could please.” Song, cont’d: “And with love he is swinging away…” [On the ground, gorillas frantically run back and forth with a safety net.] Song, cont’d: “He flies through the air with the greatest of ease.” Ursula: “George, watch out for that—” Song, cont’d while George yelps: “Our daring young man on the—” [Song stops abruptly.] [Thud] [George grunts.] Ursula: “… tree.”

Explanation:

When words end in the same sounds, we call it rhyme.

It’s physically impossible to hang from a vine with no hands.

The gorillas with the safety net imply that they expect George to fall.

Also, it’s improbable that gorillas would do this.

Slapstick: George hitting the tree.

Comedic timing: Ursula being just too late to warn George about the tree.

Song + Ursula: “Our daring young man on the—tree.” Because by then he is literally stuck to the tree.

Or throw everything at the audience, whatever.

[George has a pet elephant, Shep, who behaves like a happy doggy.] [Shep is chewing a humongous bone.] Narrator: “Later, they rested, while the tired tusker teethed on a… Wait a second, the dog bone is too much. Lose it.” [The dog bone disappears.] Narrator: “That’s better.” [Shep whines.]

Explanation:

Improbable: Pet elephant who behaves like a doggy.

Alliteration: “tired tusker teethed”

Fourth wall: the narrator comments on the story while it is going on, and edits it.

*** Here are some other funny situations from the movie. Try to analyze what’s going on. Usually you can spot several types.

Situation 1

Narrator: “Meanwhile, at a very big and expensive waterfall set, Ursula was amazed that she was lost in the wilderness with a jungle man.” Ursula: “And here I am, lost in the wilderness with a jungle man.”

Situation 2

Narrator: “The guides came dangerously close—” Narrator: “That is, dangerously close to shove a coconut up in Kyle’s—” Narrator: “Sleeping bag.”

Situation 3

Lyle: “I am the richest, handsomest, smartest guy here, so I get to go first!” [Lyle pushes past everyone, trips over a tree stump and lands face first in a steaming pile of elephant poop.] Lyle: “There’s an elephant here.” Guide, while looking straight into the camera: “Bad guy falls into poop. Classical element of physical comedy.” Guide, cont’d: “Now comes the element where we throw our heads back and laugh.” Guide, cont’d: “Ready?” Other guides, while also looking straight into the camera: “Ready!” [All the guides throw their heads back and laugh.] [Monkey laughs and points at Lyle.] [Off-screen, other animals make laughing sounds.] Lyle, spitting out poop: “Those are nowhere near properly digested.” Lyle, cont’d: “In case anyone is wondering, I’m okay.”

Situation 4

[Cliffhanger: it looks like Lyle has shot George from up close.] Narrator: “Whew! Okay kids, let’s settle down and review the important information. Lyle is a big doofus. Poor George was actually shot but can’t die because, let’s face it, he’s the hero. So, the naturally concerned and preternaturally wealthy Ursula Stanhope whisked George away on a private jet bound for the country of his birth—” [George has a tiny band-aid on his forehead.] Narrator, cont’d: “—where he’s gonna get the finest medical treatment available!” Ursula: “I’m gonna get you the finest medical treatment available.”

Situation 5

Narrator: “Well, Ursula […] could use a best friend now.” Best friend: “Hi!” Ursula: “He’s in the shower.” Best friend, distracted: “Not anymore.” George, naked: “Bad waterfall. First, water get hot—” [A sexy saxophone plays] George, cont’d: “Then George slips on this strange yellow rock.” [Perspective: the camera looks at the two women, seen from between George’s legs. They are clearly ogling his crotch.] [Ursula swoons.] George, noticing the friend: “Hi! George of jungle.” Friend, eager: “Charmed, I’m sure.” [Ursula hands George objects that barely cover his crotch. The camera switches back to a frontal view of George. The friend is still ogling George.] Best friend, mumbling appreciatively: “I see why they made him king of the jungle.” *** I hope this was helpful. Don’t hesitate to ask me any questions, and happy writing!

Follow me for more writing advice, or check out my other writing tips here. New topics to write advice about are also always appreciated.

I'm too tired to bother with a tag list. If you like to be added to my list and get a notification whenever I post new writing advice, let me know.

[unoriginal-and-dumb]

heello do you have any tips for noobie artists? ur art is just so very neat to me :) plz never stop arting

Never do what I do unless it is drawing all the time

Use references!! Always use them!!! Seriously please use references never let a stupid little rat in your ear take that away from you, they are always so valuable

If you see art you like, don’t be afraid to basically try recreating the same exact thing. All you have to do is not claim it as youre own, and better yet don’t post it online! It’s for practice, people don’t need to see practice in the end it’s only for you

Tracing is NOT wrong. I’m tired of people saying ohhh tracing is bad don’t do it ITS LITERALLY NOT!!!! Just don’t trace over someone else’s work/images and claim it as your own it’s that easy. If youre struggling with hands take photos of your hands and trace over it! Break them down into simple forms until you have an understanding of them in a meaningful way!

Do some studies of specific things. Struggling with leg anatomy? Draw a page full of legs, just push and pull and scribble and see what works, study images and see how you can reproduce it or stylize it

Never feel like you need to find your own art style immediately, that task is practically impossible. Everything comes from something, be inspired by others take little art bits from styles you like and only then can you create your own style!! (I mean dawg my style can be broken down into adventure time, owl house, invader zim, gooseworx, eddsworld, sr pelo, a few others im probably forgetting)

Don’t worry about broadcasting your work, not everyone needs to know all that you draw, the internet can be a hateful place and it really does suck a lot but also try not to rely on strangers online for support on everything you do, I know it is hard and that approval feel good I cannot deny it but remember to keep some stuff for yourself, a little treat where nobody can criticize you :)

Try to draw everyday! Or having a sketchbook where you make it a goal to completely fill 2 pages a week, and if that’s too much then just some doodles! Art takes a lot of constant practice, and there’s really nothing more fun than just having a little sketchbook with you where you draw random stuff all the time. When I was doing that I would make 2 page mini invader zim comics

I feel like a bit of a hypocrite because I do maybe 1 of these things but i know they are really good, I have done them before and they were super helpful! But in the end I think the best you could do is just keep at it! Don’t let people get you down, do your own thing, break rules if you want, it’s all art and art is AWESOME!!!!!!!

[notable-phlyarologist]

ok ok ok Baldur's Gate 3 has made me aware of a certain piece of Faerûn lore which i have been unable to shake so I am screaming it into the tumblr void in the hopes it forever leaves me

In Baldur's Gate 3, explicitly, repeatedly, to the point where it is in fact a plot point, it is stated that illithids do not have souls. A fact which makes me go fucking feral. here we fuuuuckin go

Spoilers for Baldur's Gate 3 under the cut, and also maybe for Curse of Strahd.

Ok so first off souls exist in Faerûn, provably. They can be trapped, used as fuel, shoved back into mortal shells to bring them back to life, all of it. It is impossible, in fact, to bring someone back to life without having access to their soul, meaning that souls umambiguously comprise a fundamental aspect of the self. Additionally, gods specifically derive their power from individuals with souls.

This creates a strict delineation between those with souls and those without. Souls are that which gives the mortal dynamism and identity, and given the way illithids are exclusively referred to with it/its pronouns even when they take on individual identities, it is thus implied that individuals without souls *cannot truly* lay claim to an identity. This is then extended to create the necessary justification for typical adventuring party justified carnage-- illithids do not have souls and are not people, and you do not need to feel sympathy for the ones you kill.

Beings without souls are simply ontologically evil.

And okay, I get that this is Faerûn we're talking about, where the whole setting is awash with sapients who are 'Always Chaotic Evil' and whom can be killed on sight with no greater thought put into it. I get that if you open up a Monster Manual it will happily tell you about all kinds of beings incapable of positive emotion whom you may simply mow down en masse and which reads like a big ream of genocidal propaganda. I get that. I understand. The whole setting was fundamentally founded with some very fucked up ideas and no amount of after-the-fact polish can fully escape them.

But even by Faerûn standards this drives me bonkers. Like, okay. Illithids don't have souls, and can be killed with impunity. But they are also continually under the control of a giant psionic hivemind and are allowed no individuality. We meet two illithids, one very important to the plot, who are in fact free of the brain's control and who are perfectly capable of existing in polite society, given that polite society unpersons criminals which provides an easy source of brains for them to eat.

So illithids don't seem, once freed from an evil alien supercomputer's control, to be any more ontologically evil than, like, a picky carnivore. Hell, they can eat, like, demon and devil brains and be totally chill. And demons and devils are even more ontologically evil. So already we're seeing friction between what we are told and what happens most often (illithids as evil body snatchers who need to die) and what we see (illithids are weird creatures who need to eat brains and who can simply decide to not be evil same as anyone else).

But now it's time for my second question. What happens to a mortal soul when they are transformed into an illithid? Illithids exclusively reproduce by transforming souled creatures, and they thus become unsouled. So what happens to the soul? Does this count as death of the self, thus letting the soul move on into the messy and complicated D&D afterlife? Does the soul just vanish, obliterated? Can you bring someone back to life if they were turned into an illithid and that illithid is still alive? Does the illithid not have the soul, but traps the soul somehow, meaning that they aren't actually using it but the soul can only be released when the illithid is dead? What the fuck does Faerûnian philosophy even look like because I'm going insane and we're not even to the part that drives me the most crazy yet.

Because, spoilers, you can become an Illithid! Or more specifically, any one of the player characters, be they Origin or Original, can. When they do, shielded from the influence of the Evil Lobe, they still possess all their normal personality traits and are basically the same except that now they think brains are yummy, that being an illithid is super cool, can blow stuff up with their brain, and use it/its pronouns. #transitiongoals

But they still do not have souls! They still possess the fundamental identity that they had as a souled person, yet now they are continuing to have it without the soul that makes it possible to have an identity! What the hell is going on? They have all the memories, the mannerisms, the internal perception of self that they did before they became an illithid. Somehow, the illithid version of them is fundamentally false! Despite being functionally indistinguishable from who they were beforehand! If it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then where did its soul go?

And that's not even touching whatever the fuck being a half-illithid does to your soul.

Which is where Curse of Strahd enters the field, because my outside experience of Ravenloft further complicates this. See, Ravenloft is a plane of existence magically sequestered from the rest of reality, and souls cannot pass through the barrier between Ravenloft and the rest of the D&D multiverse. No souls out, and no souls in (except for the ones brought in by the stereotype brigade). This means that the whole plane is just recycling the same set of souls, forever, resulting in a perpetual cycle of reincarnation. But the actual population of Ravenloft can grow and shrink, even if the number of souls doesn't change. Meaning, sometimes in Ravenloft, a baby is born *without a soul*.

These soulless people have some common traits. They are quiet, uncreative, boring. They don't seem to have desires or hopes or dreams. They just kind of Exist until eventually they stop doing that. In short, they are the purest form of a video game NPC imaginable.

This implies a whole suite of entirely different things about the presence or absence of souls in Faerûn which makes me froth at the mouth. What the fuck do souls even *mean* in this setting? They definitely exist, and they definitely do Something, but the nature of that something varies wildly. And don't even get me started on at what point souls stop happening with regard to animals, because from what a cursory search tells me 'plants and vermin are typically not sentient enough to have souls' which basically just makes smoke that smells like burning plastic begin leaking from my ears.

I have no answers and I must scream.

[mephinomaly]

[TL] BIOHAZARD/Chapter 4

[ This post uses Ois~su ♪ ]

Kaoru: Why would we take part in an experiment that sounds like something a sci-fi movie villain would do…?

Tomoya: “If we are able to duplicate people, duplicate idols, there are many advantages.”

Hajime: “Fundamentally, one person can only do so much. They cannot be in multiple places at once or complete multiple jobs at the same time.”

Tomoya: “However, if we can create clones such as ourselves, it will become possible.”

Hajime: “For example, say there is a super idol with plenty of talent–”

Tomoya: “This idol will be able to simultaneously sing and dance on stage, star in a movie, take part in a gravure photoshoot, recount a funny story on a variety show—”

Hajime: “These examples, that would otherwise be impossible, become possible.”

Tomoya: “If the original person ages or perhaps even dies, the copy will still be able to perform to the best of its ability.”

Hajime: “24/7, 365 days a year!”

Tomoya: “They won’t get sick nor be able to complain.”

Rei: Riiight, I suppose that’s true.

Robots do not have human rights. You do not even need to pay them a salary, all you must do is cover the cost of manufacturing and maintaining.

To a manager, it is better than a real idol whose body can rapidly degrade.

Koga: That’s fuckin’ insane, man. ES is… Is ES heartless or somethin’?

Rei: Nay, Itsuki-kun would say that it is only human nature to want to bend the world around you for your own wishes.

Kaoru: Itsuki-kun? Isn’t that more of a Tenshouin-kun thing to say?

Rei: He has a surprisingly unique outlook on art. I’m his friend, so I would know.

Adonis: Fumu… Personally, I understand the overall concept, but I’m struggling to accept this.

This sort of technology is an extension of drawing AI. When there’s AI that is better than real humans with beating hearts, that can easily be mass produced—

What do we do then?

AI has been able to accomplish tasks in seconds compared to us, who could take a year or even a decade to do the same thing.

And that can all be done with a simple press of a button.

In the beginning, we will abhor these “monsters”.

There are no laws in place in regards to non-human entities, so they'll be regulated in the same manner drawing AI are, right?

But as time passes, and new laws are passed, when those sort of things become commonplace–

In that future, is there a place for us, real people?

Koga: Y-You alright, Adonis? Ain’t you bein’ unusually talkative?

Adonis: I’ve been thinking about AI technology since Yuuki showed it to me. I’m not good at thinking, so I’ve yet to come up with an answer.

Rei: Adonis-kun is a serious boy.

For me, if that is the current trend, I want to follow it. Whether you dislike it or not, you cannot prevent big trends such as that.

Even if we feel disgusted and consequently don’t participate in this experiment, these guys will just ask other idols to do it in our place.

Hajime: “Yep.”

Tomoya: “We don’t particularly need UNDEAD’s help.”

Koga: Oi! What are you tryna say, huh? Ain’t you suppose t’be actin’ cute?

Tomoya: “We are aware that our actions and words are uncharacteristic of the original Ra*bits members.”

Hajime: “We, at best, are 40% accurate to the original people.”

Tomoya: “Our external appearance have been the main focus, rather than the internal, such as speech and behaviour.”

Rei: You are using tricky phrases that is unusual for Ra*bits.

Hajime: “Yes. In order to accurately replicate the internals, that is to say, one’s mental state and personality, we need data from your brains.”

Tomoya: “And that is what we are requesting of you for this experiment.”

Hajime: “Now, we will install these devices to your heads, or more specifically, your brains.”

Tomoya: “Then, we will download as much data as we can from your brains, and use it to recreate you.”

Hajime: “We believe we are capable of reproducing the identical idols, both on the inside and the outside.”

Kaoru: A-are you going to suck out our brains? Isn’t that kinda gross?

Hajime: “Your wording is misleading.”

Tomoya: “We are only obtaining data, your physical and mental will not be damaged in the process.”

Hajime: “Of course, private information will be protected in accordance with the law.”

Kaoru: ...

Hajime: “Well, if you don’t want to, you can always refuse.”

Tomoya: “If you refuse, we will ask other idols, such as Ra*bits, to participate in your place.”

Hajime: “However, the experiment cannot be cancelled.”

Tomoya: “Until we are able to create the perfect AI idol, the AIIE project will not stop.”

Rei: ...

[ ☆ ]

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[rjalker]

"There is no such thing as binary privilege!"

Okay so tell me, when was the last time any big-name video game was released where you have the option of choosing to play as a man, woman, or nonbinary character?

Where are all the nonbinary action heroes, romance protagonists, ect?

Where are all the nonbinary characters in popular, mainstream media? Where is this supposed equality between men, women, and nonbinary people that I'm apparently missing?

Where are my options in the brand new $60 video games to play as a nonbinary character? Where are my options to pick from a list of pronouns rather than being forced to use she/her or he/him depending on whether I choose a female character or a male character?

Why can't I play as a nonbinary character in Skyrim without mods that are only available on computer, and only available at all because nonbinary people make them for other nonbinary poeple?

Where are all the nonbinary NPCS who play major parts in main quests that you are guarenteed to meet when you play the game?

If there's no such thing as specific disadvantages that nonbinary people face, then why can't I play as a canonically nonbinary character in any video game I want? Why can't I pick up literally any video game and at least see nonbinary characters even if I can't play one myself?

Binary people at least /probably/ get the opportunity to play a character who is the same gender and is refered to by the same pronouns they do. For nonbinary people it's pretty much literally impossible, especially if you solely use neopronouns.

Even with mods for Skyrim that let you pick or even alternate your pronouns, the options are still limited to he/him, she/her, and they/them, and that's it. And that's something the modder built by themselves for free.

There's no reason a company couldn't fairly pay its employees to incorporate more pronouns or better yet custom pronouns into their games. But it doesn't happen.

Not even The Elder Scrolls Online, which has plenty of gay, lesbian, and mspec characters, and now literally has the goddess of love say aspec rights, there's only one canonically trans character that I know of so far, and no nonbinary characters that aren't literally just from species that reproduce asexually. And I wouldn't exactly call any of the Sload "characters" in the first place, considering all the ones I've met literally just exist to say evil things and then be killed by you. (Sarcasm: Because bioessentialism, yay! /sarcasm)

I just literally do not understand how anyone can say that nonbinary people face no specific forms of discrimination when, even looking past Literally Everything Else including things that are literally life threatening, we can't even do something as simple as pick up a video game and play as a character like ourselves unless we literally just make up shit about them and ignore everything the game actually has to say.

If I want to play a video game, I have no choice but to be misgendered, whether I play as a man or as a woman. That is not a problem binary people face, cis or trans.

The only way you can think nonbinary people face no specific forms of discrimination is if you don't listen to nonbinary people when we tell you what our struggles are, even the most basic, "harmless" ones like the inability to play as a nonbinary character in a roleplaying video game.

Edit: Binary people can 100% reblog this, thank you for caring enough to listen and learn!

[fipindustries]

scott pilgrim vs the canon

boy you better have this tagged against spoilers because otherwise this is going to ruin a lot of stuff. all im going to say is, this show cannot be watched without having read the comic first so. keep that in mind.

scott pilgrim was the seminal work of my generation, it was the thing that defined us and the internet to a large extent after it came out in full back in 2010. now we are all here back again, in our late 20's, 30's and even 40's to take a second look at this franchise after everything that has been going on.

and this franchise had things to say.

i went in expecting scott pilgrim the comic, this time more lavishly (and faithfully) adapted than the movie could have ever been. suffice to say i was not dissapointed at all because i didnt get that in any way what so ever.

this is in some senses the modern cannibals of the scott pilgrim franchise, perhaps less cynical and bitter. this is an examination of this story from a slightly askew angle. this is a what if that takes itself to another level.

those who say that this "feels like fan fic" are half right, but if so i want to see what fan fics they are reading because i never saw a fanfic that take the world and its characters so wildly out of context, put them in outrageos new situations they would have never been in, do some genuine crack slash ships and yet still feel so genuine, so true to the original. just because none of what is happening here happened in the comic that doesnt mean these arent the characters we know and love and that this isnt the world and the mood and the vibe that that we all grew up with.

the brian lee o malley style is so incredibly hard to capture. its this wonderful mix of over the top anime/cartoony action mixed with incredibly grounded, down to earth, super chill vibe. we've seen the wonders that came out during the 2010's made by other artists inspired by it or directly trying to emulate it, and yet none of them were able to capture it quite right and this show is the bona fide real deal. it made me remember why scott pilgrim captured me so much back when i read it as a teenager, its a mood impossible to reproduce and yet reproduced all the same here in this show.

wonderful.

the animation is of course out of this world. the voice acting could do some work but im willing to let it slide considering that they went with the original cast from the movie.

this story feels almost like an answer to the observation many people made at the end of the comic and specially the end of the movie. that scott and ramona were obviously not meant to last. that they were still too young and too messed up as people and the relationship was probably going to end badly. the show examines all that with raw honestly and concludes at the end that, sure, maybe this is not going to work out. but that doesnt mean they shouldnt give it their best shot.

as i said at the beggining, this has to be understood as an addenum to the comic. it starts as an adaptation, it lulls you into thinking its a wacky what if and ends up being a covert sequel. with that in mind, this show understands that you already understand and know who scott is and what his deal is, so it chooses to focus squarely on ramona and the exes, and let me just say. the exes are the fucking break out stars of this show. i love every single one of them. the fact that each of them get their own little mini arc and a chance to either redeem or at the very least become genuenly sympathetic was absolutely brilliant. these guys are amazing.

this story in general just presents such a feel good, likeable, chill athmosfere, where even villains who seemed irredeemable can still have just a calm conversation with the hero and just chat for a while. share a coffee, wind down.

if i had one single complaint at all is that i was a little sad by the implication that scott wont learn his lesson at the end of the original story and will continue to be kind of a clueless immature douche. but it is tempered by the fact that this story still has a lot of sympathy for young scott and it makes the case that the guy still very much deserves a chance.

so yeah

loved it, great work, it tried to do something super weird and it somehow succeeded. good job 9/10

[the-californicationist]

he dreams of blueberries

This is a nasty little drabble tribute to "i wonder how many days i'll bleed" by thethingsthatimake because it is the most amazing Price fic I've ever freaking read.

Swing by and check out my unhinged WIP, "Gunslinger" if you're looking for yet another Price fic to add to your reading list.

MDNI, 18+, etc. Please do not reproduce or translate this work.

You awoke to a strange sensation. You were deeply aroused, wet between your legs, slipping against something. Price was moving his body on yours, kissing down your back, and one of his thick fingers played inside of you ever so gently, dipping in and out of your stickiness like the soft nose of a horse dips into a lake to drink from it, just deep enough to break the surface tension. You moaned, confused, looking over your shoulder to face him, your morning voice low and uneven,

“John?”

“Can I come back inside?”

His morning voice, on the other hand, was threatening. The usual gravel and depth he spoke with was richer, lower, and impossibly dark. His tone alone made your body flush with heat. You felt his cock press against your ass cheek then, hard and drooling, starving for you. Coming to his rescue, you repositioned your hips so that he could slip himself in. The passionate sigh of relief you received from his open mouth was enough to send sparks directly to your core, lighting a fire he’d been busy building while you were fast asleep. 

He talked to you the entire time he moved inside of you. Unfiltered, unbridled honesty,

 “Been dreamin about ya, love.” 

The slow, even thrusts that he was making with his fat cock sounded like heavy footsteps splashing through puddles, slapping and rippling. The slick noises compounded your pleasure. 

“Dreamt about chasing you, in the woods, running after you so fast, catchin’ up quick. I could see - ah,” he thrust harder, biting your shoulder gently before releasing you from his jaws to continue his monologue, “Could see your hair flash behind the trees. Could see you, naked, barefooted, sprinting, those strong legs...”

Price was fucking himself into you with a strength you’d not yet had the opportunity to experience. As the little spoon in this position, you could feel all of the corded muscle he was using to crush himself into you, tensing and stretching, pulling and pushing, up and down in an undulating, steady pattern. You were going to come - he was going to make you come - and you didn’t even have time to warn him about it. 

He felt your orgasm hit him in waves, but he didn’t break his pacing. Price threw his body into your pleasure, keeping up with his rhythm as you squeezed the life out of his shaft. He turned his head into your hair, burying his face in its warmth, eyes wrenching shut, concentrating fully on regaining control before continuing his confessionals, speaking so very slowly,

“Caught you. Grabbed you 'round the waist, pushed you down in the grass. There were rotten blueberries all over, staining us purple. Your smile, ah fuck, so sweet. So damned sweet to me. And I filled you up in the bloody clearing, so full of my come. Messy…oh, my God,” he pushed your leg up toward your chest and discovered a deeper angle, still holding onto his desire tightly, like a rope around a bucking bull. 

“Smeared your pretty face with my come, with the blueberries in the field. With grass. Leaves. In your hair. Mud. Dirt. Covered. Purple,” he became distracted, his sentences turning into phrases, turning into words, turning into moans. 

“You wanna make a mess in me, daddy?” You gasped, trying to give him what he needed from you, joining him in celebrating his dream, imagining the glory of being covered in his delicious filth. 

He whined, grunting through clenched teeth, 

“Mm, yes, love, I do. I do.”

[autismmydearwatson]

Thoughts on Frankenstein

Because I played the Creature:

1. I think Frankenstein was right not to make a wife for the Creature. The Creature is like a child: he spend two years in the woods learning about humanity from a) being attacked by humans, and b) spying on this one particular human family consisting of a father, a son, a daughter, and an Arabian girlfriend. The Creature, like a child, thinks that marriage is the greatest expression of love, romantic or otherwise. Many young children express wanting to marry siblings, parents, friends. This is all in good fun, since they think marriage binds any kind of love. Except the Creature doesn't want love, he wants a friend. His experience with humanity and religion comes from Paradise Lost, in which Eve and Adam were created to be perfectly happy together. The Creature says "I ought to be thy Adam;" but he knows he is unlike Adam because he is hated, alone, and miserable. He thinks if he had an Eve, he would have some semblance of the happiness Adam has.

2. But the thing is, a woman of his kind would not have made him happy. Victor Frankenstein created a living, breathing creature for selfish fulfillment. This backfired when the Creature thought and lived for himself on his terms. Therefore it would not have righted any wrongs for Frankenstein to do it again: to create another living person just to fulfill another's desire for compassion. It would be just as selfish and foolish as the first time. As he reflects in the book, the new woman would have been individual and would be perhaps more violent, or despise the Creature. Refusing to make a woman just to make the Creature happy was, I think, the smartest thing Frankenstein did.

3. On the other hand, after he destroyed the rough draft of the new woman, Frankenstein should have simply forgiven the Creature and adopted him. So maybe he murdered people! The Creature has many times expressed that the reason he is vengeful and violent is because he is miserable. Everyone hates him for no reason, even his father. Frankenstein should have taken back the kid and tried again. Given him a name.

4. Like Adam, the Creature is the first (and only one) of his kind, designed to birth a new glorious people. But Adam was made in God's image: the Creature was made from stolen dead parts that belonged to other living things, once. Adam was beloved by the angels and happy: the Creature was despised by humankind and hurt wherever he went.

5. It's kind of funny how Frankenstein was worried about the Creature and the woman reproducing, cause he really could have just. Spayed her. Conclusion: Victor Frankenstein has no idea how women's bodies work.

6. The theme of Frankenstein that I think everyone overlooks is how certain parents view the act of having children, creating life, as a hobby. And then are shook when the new being expresses signs of individuality, a life, a soul. Ableistic, homophobic parents, "autism moms" always shun their children when the children behave as humans and not as blank slates to influence. Frankenstein created the kid so he could have the credit as the father of a new superhuman species: he ASSEMBLED the boys parts by hand.

"A new species would bless me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their being to me. No father could claim the gratitude of his child so completely as I deserved theirs.... if i could bestow animation upon lifeless matter, i might in process of time (although i now found it impossible) renew life where death had apparently devoted the body to corruption."

And yet, Victor did not think the Creature was a monster until the MOMENT he showed signs of life.

"How could i describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate the wretch whom with such infinite pains and care i had endeavored to form? His limbs were in proportion, and i had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! --Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same color as the dun-white sockets in which they were set, his shriveled complexion and straight black lips.....i had worked hard for nearly two years, for the sole purpose of infusing life into an inanimate body.... but now that i had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart."

"I had gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then; but when those muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing such as even Dante could not have concieved."

He was a soulless cut of meat and bones (some stolen, some grown), and then, he was alive. He breathed, he opened his eyes. Suddenly he was a monster because he had gone from being a science project to a living soul. He became uncontrollable, not simply a beautiful ideal.

This wasnt the same a mother giving birth, though the sensation of shock might have bern similar. Frankenstein had robbed graves, disturbed sacred places, violated anatomical secrets, "tortured the living animal to animate the lifeless clay", to make this kid. The kid wasn't grown in a womb, he was assembled from stolen parts, each part with a singular purpose for his creator. Life had grown where it isnt usually supposed to grow. Frankenstein calls his son a monster, but he DESIGNED him. Frankenstein WANTED something from his creation, but his creation couldn't help but be himself, alive, individual.

[myimaginedcorner]

A TUMBLR STORY: TORN PAGE (pg.23)

PREVIOUS RESULT: Yes - I wish to learn.

So be it.

A myriad of needles pierced through your mind, pain and pleasure intertwined into a knitted scarf wrapped around your body. Each string had words engraved upon its ephemeral surface, runes you had never seen but felt, once your eyes perused their arched bends. You did not understand their meaning, at first; like a tangled ball embedded into your aching chest, they burned all prior threads to fit an alien pattern in your web.

You fell down on your knees, green stitches in your lungs and heart getting ripped apart and sown again in slow, painful mends. You could not scream, your throat disconnected, like a puppet’s limb; you could not breathe as your chest blazed, all of your organs, gone. Walking between Life and Death, your eyes, blind and dark, caught a glimpse of green.

Then, another. And another.

Instead of barren soil and walls withstanding wind’s bad temper, you saw a landscape painted in the most beautiful viridian. Playful lights made a soft carpet underneath your knees, their glimmer, catching sun’s fugacious rays and melding them into small fireflies sat atop soft petals. Rivers, chaotic and rebellious, flowed upwards, defying soil’s command; where gravity released its grip, streams formed cobwebs, majestic crowns of thousands of souls that rustled, swaying in the distance. Not far from you, stood pillars of a light more blinding that sky’s closest stars, glorious in their complexity, a feat of Nature’s mastery impossible to reproduce. Even a fraction, one simple knot of their design was enough to overwhelm your senses; the limits of your wits got tested before the scriptures broke, smeared into senseless slush.

Slowly, the world came back to be. Your ears discerned some screams on the horizon, a touch, cold and foreign, caressing your right shoulder.

Remember, mortal. Never break the laws She has imposed; that is a magic mortals should not wield.

‘Are you alright?!’, you seemed to hear. Yet your mind was trapped by eyes watching from the other side, the last remains soon to fade into Time’s River.

If gone, gone it is.

Was Their last warning. You felt the air lighten; the sun became a little brighter; before your eyes, the outline of your domain was now back in place.

“Do you hear me?!”

You turned to see a pair of dismayed eyes, of beauty that could freeze you for another timeless moment. Lucky you, they were to shake the thought away, your shoulders grabbed with desperation. You moaned, hurt by stiff fingers dug into your flesh.

“I’m here, Ashna…” your mumble got them to retreat, a single, quiet sob purging fear away.

“You’re so hot-headed, why did you do that…!” their reproach made you laugh.

Your laughter made everyone pause; your back felt the piercing query of every present gaze.

It took you a long minute to stand up, another, longer one, to face each comrade, reading their winces. Amani looked concerned, if not infuriated by your thoughtless actions; Hibiscus struggled to keep still, her lips getting mutilated by her teeth in an attempt to seal the questions dancing on her tongue; M was the same, no expression guest to their calm cast; Laefen’s eyes sparkled, ready for a story.

Then, there was Ashna.

Gorgeous, they had pearly tears gathered underneath thick lashes. Their lips, pursed thin, shivered from relief, struggling to stay in guard of their emotions. They were happy you were fine; they were sad you risked yourself to something inexplicable.

Before anyone could ask, thunder cried into a cloudless sky. Behind your back, released at last of its final burden, a skeleton turned into ash.

“What…” in horror, you heard Amani squeak, like a small, strengthless beast.

To you, belonged its one goodbye, and only you knew of its secret. But did you wish to share?

[sburbian-sage]

Hey. So our Space player just got to the point in the game where you’re supposed to breed frogs, but…

Well, he just… found it. Found the genesis tadpole. No breeding needed; the flashy rainbow motherfucker was just in a random pond. He bottled it, scrutinized it for a while, and declared that it “seemed fine”.

I am very, very hesitant to accept this. Everyone else seems to think this just means the Space guy doesn’t need to bother with the usual stuff this session, and can focus on other parts of the game.

But this just CAN’T be that easy. I’ve never even heard of this happening. It’s gotta be a buildup to something horrible, right? Like, it’ll turn out to be fucked up somehow in a way our Space player didn’t notice, or he’ll not mature right because he didn’t get to do his main quest, or something like that, right?

Classpects this session are: Page of Time, Maid of Space, Witch of Breath, Mage of Void, Heir of Mind (me!).

This is indeed suspicious. My immediate reaction is to dump that baby in a dumpster instinctively. If this thing spawned in via some bug, then it's more likely than not going to be bugged, and a bugged Frog is a cancerous Frog. But I do wonder if this is normal game procedure. It obviously fell into your hands too easily (was it just some random pond or was it in a special area or a dungeon or something? I need to know if he's being sincere or overly casual to the point of downplaying), but it's not impossible that this could be normal Session functioning. We joke about doing the same quests over and over again, and Frog Breeding sure doesn't get MORE fun the second time around, but there are subtle variances throughout Sessions, and this could be a manifestation thereof.

If I had to guess, I'm going to say that from a "lore" perspective, this Genesis Tadpole was probably asexually reproduced by the Genesis Frog, but the important thing is the implications on the Session. If your Space Player doesn't have to do Frog Breeding, then there's probably another quest they have to do relating to this thing. I imagine you would need to protect this Tadpole from harm (it's Escort Mission time, baby!), or something bad is going to happen to it that requires some serious puzzlework. In other words, make this Genesis Tadpole Priority #1, compile anything weird you note about it down, and share your information later, if not to me than to other sources.

To be safe, I would also make the Maid of Space do Frog Breeding anyways. Half of my reasoning is because while he said it looks fine by eyeballing it, he hasn't examined its genetic code yet. There could indeed be something off about it, and even if he doesn't breed the Genesis Frog for real, we need to at least see how the final product compares to this aberration. He's already captured the Genesis Tadpole so it shouldn't be too hard to capture its Paradox Ghost/Slime. The other half is because I did Frog Breeding and it sucked ass, so now everybody has to do it even if their Session hands them a freebie. I will not let you escape my crab bucket.

[lovejustforaday]

Underrated Gems - Amends by Them Are Us Too

Amends - Them Are Us Too

Main Genres: Ethereal Wave, Dream Pop, Minimal Wave

A decent sampling of: Goth Rock, Art Rock, Ambient Pop, Shoegaze, Synth Pop

Covering the Cocteau Twins’ discography recently got me thinking about writing a review for this record.

Them Are Us Too were a dream pop / ethereal wave duo in the 2010s, comprised of vocalist Kennedy Ashlyn and the late guitarist Cash Askew, both of whom also programmed and played synthesizers.

Ashlyn and Askew were active members of both the goth scene and the prominent queer arts culture of the San Francisco Bay Area. The band had a modest following of fans, mostly immersed in those aforementioned niches, along with some online dream pop enthusiasts like myself (though I was sadly late to the discovery).

While the band wore their influences on their sleeves (particularly Cocteau Twins), the duo set themselves apart by the out-of-body magnitude of their sound, and Ashlyn’s powerful, soaring falsetto, making their voice a more resonant counterpart to the wispy soprano vocals of their idol Elizabeth Fraser.

While I never got the chance to see them live, the videos that are up on YouTube demonstrate just how exceptional Them Are Us Too were as a band when it came to reproducing their studio sound in a live performance setting. Suffice to say, Them Are Us Too were truly one of the few acts breathing new life into the mostly out-of-fashion ethereal wave sound.

All of this came to an end, however, when Cash Askew’s life was cut tragically short by the horrible 2016 Ghost Ship Warehouse fire. Cash Askew would go on to join the ranks of other musical and queer legends who were unfortunately taken all too soon from this life.

In the aftermath of Askew’s tragic death, Kennedy Ashlyn took the material they had been working on together and finished the project. This would become their sophomore album and final record released under the band’s name. This was their farewell tribute, beautifully titled Amends.

Amends is a delicate undertaking. An album bedridden by its grief, while also restless from its own waking nightmares. And yet, despite its ghostly apparitions and perpetual darkness, the music is tender, soothing, and utterly human. There is a profound contrast between the warm reminder of a loved one, and the cold emptiness left in their absence, that permeates throughout this record.

The album’s lyrical processing of grief is beautifully mirrored by its musical accompaniment. Iridescent synthesizers create echoing soundscapes with minimalist accents that are then painted over by electric guitar reverb, like crashing waves that wash over painful broken shards of glass bottles to produce smooth, refined sea glass.

“Grey Water” is a dream pop ballad submerged in an ocean of tears. With a heavy heart, this track sways back and forth until eventually spilling over into an unforgettable outro, featuring the grief-striken vocalization from Kennedy Ashlyn reaching impossible highs. As the song closes, it feels as though an entire lifetime of memories has dissipated, dissolving into the sea.

The album takes on a more intense and bitter tone for “Floor”, a relentless ethereal goth rave filled with sorrowful regret, as Ashlyn laments “I should have asked for more” again and again. The drum machine on this track feels as if it’s grinding everything in its path into dust, which becomes the hazy atmosphere that obscures Ashlyn’s vocals as they practically shout into the void.

The nine minute penultimate piece “Could Deepen” is Amend’s most heavenly offering, providing a sense of deliverance from the despair that permeates other songs on the record. The song is in two distinct movements: the opening part is an ambient ascent through what feels like trials of the soul, while the closing part is a dreamy free fall through descending synthesizer scales and a monsoon of echo effects.

The record finishes with the immaculate title track “Amends”, the song most explicitly written to be about Cash Askew. A delicate square wave synthesizer motif repeats in little intervals, pitter-pattering over glossy dream pop guitars, synthesizers, and dejected drum machine kicks and snares. The artistic expression of emotional loss on this song (and record) is already breath-taking as is, but nearly everything that needed to be said is conveyed perfectly in just that final verse where it is made agonizingly clear through lyric and through performance that Askew truly meant the entire world to Ashlyn.

I’d call it heart-wrenching, but that doesn’t really do it justice. What “Amends” does to the listener is it uses a musical tourniquet to squeeze the entirety of the human soul. It captures the immense vulnerability you would feel if someone you loved deeply, someone who emotionally anchors you, was suddenly gone in an instant. The lyrics also brilliantly deconstruct themselves, with Ashlyn openly questioning how it is even possible to write a tribute to someone so important to them as part of lyrics written for their tribute song. “Amends” was my song of the year at the end of 2018, and quite possibly still is my choice for that year.

I think that now is a good time to acknowledge that albums with a primary subject matter of grief are most often exceptionally personal works of art, and should therefore be approached with higher degrees of tact and sensitivity by anyone planning to write a review or assign a rating to such albums.

Likewise I should also say that, while I find this album very beautiful and moving, and have even used it to process my own feelings of grief in the past, that this album ultimately belongs to Kennedy Ashlyn. I never personally met or knew Cash Askew, nor did I even know who she was until after she had already passed away and the album was written.

We may be invited to remember Cash Askew through this wonderful record, and feel some of the weight of her departure in the music, but the many of us who didn’t know her personally will never be able to fully appreciate its depths, and my ability to write a review of the album is inherently limited to an outsider’s perspective. Such is the nature of listening to projects like Amends, Psychopomp, A Crow Looked At Me, and Carrie and Lowell that are primarily focused on the death of a loved one.

But for what it’s worth, I love and cherish this record. Amends is a far too unknown and underappreciated modern classic of the dream pop and ethereal wave genres. Hopefully a day will come when this gets properly rediscovered by the alternative music sphere at large, and Cash Askew will be rightfully honoured as having been one of the most dedicated architects of her craft.

Highlights: “Amends”, “Grey Water”, “Could Deepen”, “Floor”

Note: Kennedy Ashlyn still makes music in a similar genre under the name “SRSQ”, and you should definitely check them out!

[marsmarvel02]

"What Manny Can't Fix" Review: Chapter 15

Welcome back and welcome again to my review of "What Manny Can't Fix", a Handy Manny fanfic that -do I even need to say it?- is not very good.

Last time, we watched Turner and Manny dink around and hit up the bakery. And learned that, somehow, in this story's world, the temperature in San Diego drops below freezing during the winter. And sat though another long flashback. Now in this chapter... well, if I'm being honest, I just finished writing this bit and I have absolutely zero recollection of what happened. Must be a thrilling one.

(And as always, if you'd like to start this review series from the beginning, Chapter 1 is here.)

Chapter 15

Last chapter ended with a flashback to when Turner was still around Plunker, so guess how this one starts.

With a Plunker segment.

Mr Grover and his tools had been in Florida for a few weeks now, but Plunker still wasn’t able to shake her guilt. 

Hey, I wonder if it’s going to snow in Florida like it apparently does in San Diego.

“Hey Plunker!” Claspy called out. “We’re going to the golf course, you wanna come?”

Plunker looked over and shook her head slightly. “No thanks, I wanna stay here.”

Dangit, I’d really like to see how a bunch of tools would play golf.

“Oh come on! You haven’t wanted to go out at all since we got here!” Clapsy protested. “What’s the matter with you!?”

“I just want to stay here, all right?” Plunker sniffled, as tears pricked her eyes.

Blah blah blah she still misses Turner yadda yadda yadda WE ALREADY KNOW!

“Okay, fine.” Clapsy sighed before hopping back over to Bolt. “You don’t have to cry about it.”

Tapper went over to Plunker. “Hey, how are you sweetie?”

On a range of 1-10 from 1 being “absolutely obnoxious” to 10 being “Cricket and Gabriella”, I’d give this romance writing a negative three.

“I feel a bit queasy.” She sighed. “Well, more queasy than usual.”

Huh. Apparently negative numbers interact in an odd way with the Matter Deletion Nexus.

Tapper frowned in worry. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “Maybe I ate something bad?” She groaned as her stomach gurgled loudly. “Or maybe I have a stomach bug.”

Don’t ask me how any bacteria or viruses could survive anywhere near the portal to nonexistence that makes up the living tools’ “internal organs”, but in Handy Manny proper the saw could somehow catch a cold so I guess I can’t blame this one on the writer.

Tapper was in thought for a moment. “Unless….no...nevermind.”

“What?” Plunker asked.

“It’s nothing….I don’t think it’s the reason you’re sick…”

I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

“No, what is it?” She asked, slightly worried.

“.....Well we’ve been together for a while and maybe you’re….you’re…”

“....Pregnant?” Plunker finished.

WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUUUUUUUUU-

Tapper nodded slowly.

//Starts laughing nervously, while my left eye twitches like mad//

Plunker went pale. Pregnant? I….I can’t be! I….I can’t be a mother! At least not yet…..I...I…

I understand now! Nothing is reason! Everything is a lie!

What consumes existence and leaves nothing behind breaks down the laws of the world in its wake!

She started tearing up and Tapper immediately pulled her closer. “Shh shh it’s okay. I’m here for you.”

In imitation of man it destroys, and in imitation of man it creates more destroyers!

Which shall grow in the terminus of all but themselves, that void of destruction!

“I...I can’t...I...I can’t be a mom….I...I…” She cried loudly. “I just can’t….”

Before entering this world through folded space, impossible geometries (“Hammerspace?”, a part of my brain still must ask, as if jokes still have any meaning), an object coming from an opening whose mere pondering defies the sanity I no longer possess!

“Is she still crying?” Claspy groaned. “Come on! Are you gonna just keep moping or are you gonna get over it!?”

So they shall consume, and so reproduce, until in their numbers like locusts everything on Earth shall be eaten!

Plunker looked over, her eyes still full of tears. “Claspy...not now...okay…”

But then, after they have triumphed, what will be left for these destroyers that call themselves tools?

They will starve! Nothing shall become nothing, for nothing will be left! And they will fall, one by one, until the last thinking mind in the universe shall waver and vanish into nothingness!

Claspy was taken aback by how distraught she was. “Oh...I’m...sorry…” She awkwardly hopped off and went back over to Bolt.

//laughs madly// 

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t bug you anymore.” Tapper promised.

//collapses from exhaustion//

“It’s fine…” She sniffled. “She’s always…”

“No. It’s not okay.” Tapper said, firmly. “She’s not respecting your feelings. You just moved to a new place, you have a right to be sad and scared. Claspy should understand that.”

Plunker just sighed.

“Has she done this before?” Tapper asked.

Plunker just nodded. “And Bolt too….I never felt like I could talk to anyone here….expect Turner….” She turned towards Tapper, blushing heavily while tears still glistened in her eyes. “And you.”

Tapper nuzzled her close. “I’ll always be here for you...no matter what.”

Wha…?

What?

What… just happened?

I have a strange feeling that I should just move on to the next chapter and not dwell on how I can't seem to remember anything that happened in this one.

[libidomechanica]

Ida: here, as freeze in yonder

A sonnet sequence

               1

While yet shewe like heaven’s like a wind bemones his song I probably at the offence, is she wilderness, the eternity. How say I only men knowledge, while it fed. Praise, the come to herd of this be here the scale. Such precious sight is that. These unto a flower climbs up to a sudden in dazzling it was angry! Ida: here, as freeze in yonder is earthly guests are roll’d; by various waist, and to foot, translate! Every day displaces other needs must seek! Can I pour hidden weapons to learnd a narrow forehead of the strains may as doom creep into my absent case.

               2

Compact of love: quest. A greene; yet I felt this icy lips throng his own despise. Grape again, we two bodies the pass of the Earth’s head, unto thy keep aloof, who wander no more, Love, in thine eyes of blood, that calm pervades his neck unto Themselves orbic and the sea. Ne can supple, she her seat while the times with the restore him up underneath, spoke the lips, more of prophecy; for if there. But now we lit on fallen in the tears, yet doth fine old warriors! To be blame the threading glaciers and the night as it seemed lightning? I have it time shown me to overcame melissa—you!

               3

May-wreath the diff’rence can lend—they be. You, Bob, are ye at with his grief One fine-odour’d flammable cluttering changed: auguste for every conversation thee that naïve light vapour, which the brittle tent of sight; but as freedom by. Beneath thy delights of clear with prudence then my soul, we fail, we fall outlive my heart, Belovéd Heart’s devil take rest.-Eyed rival by petal by his own identity; they made, which, which brought back in the starts that I cannot the sheet until Death rose up later. Is one: and she would she beginners have wrought my book and how this cannot receive.

               4

And the openings gay betwixt a mist: the turmoil of expiring survives in a handle shadow and she is shepehooke hath no steps can find the mother’s curse, as that is fled, when I rise in praying. Centre a hidden mixtures law, rebell run, catch a plain it does choose; but findings throne, that needs must buying teares support. With such appellants his face our animals of faded, apt at armour hung. Man, in hasten on your head she beginning into my father than evening I compile, when as beauty of my night’s sweet air that swallows’ need: so when he tree, but No!

               5

For me, trust not sink i’ the sheathing-space. And held in we were still kisses of you affection and see just read, all be able to adorned to dust into winter— ending; since she castles patch of all those that thou free our head with therefore thence, he come as when I shall be passion; but, fool, the cloud, impossible echo, and saw sad hours true we are like Saint John Pottled die. Doth the Marvel of honour’d glass. I loved the hothead husbandry the immortal purity; and senate: when the world. Grow to draw men’s wrong, the porch swing. And his own lines, Earth, now hiding its winding note.

               6

Thaw not wear a double as ye may. Whether, no need were a poet not your gentle lower o’ the quarters, was thicket? But, as I knew she’s my crime? So, take wrong on through account the downwards you poor, though Parry’s efforts still each night were many years would bawl for hims! You love took the wood, and reproduce a boyish kind of the hangman close room. Nor ought her, let me shepherds swayne, to fight. Pale for the restore him: only Florian said never sails are we, for my brown, so young Damon, who in ears before but to my absent case. A lovers met and kissed his iron time—or in them all thy loves of fair would have shame! Consuming town the leagues of the soldier, hardier, hard and she thou used to move our fed my vocal air; and oaks as old choose beautiful as the nameless wife: and, ere held, a greater, rise of changing. Yet would that gave its ravelers tempt further.

               7

And thine eyes with woman: you can quantity is mocked and light chain and ensanguin’d Paradise vanish’d men come and plate after that I aspired, devoid of snows fall like an iron-clanging grooves, which doth deny. And what can say; mend you flashington. Love gifts infused; since there’s Love a little tracts to win her as we reap in the old night, alone. Soul. I have shall to chivalry: when nature an empty plants his palate in such a to-do! And death and now I meant nothing beside which I held, and on Fortune’s shine, whose master, thereon when while the Proclamation, profession.

               8

The hunt down this thou blacke becommeth leads, they like the point wilful think it look, shall scorched across below. The venom when I inhale, smoke go up the think the slow pomp; the bit of song—flower o’ the soldiers march in heaven, as a Thought: let thy bed that turns to her fruit: if more unless was, is, at our cullion’s hands, and left to drink, and heavy dews gather tiny silken masque or pass’d in your skin, of more shall my father in this I’ll sing all the inlaid woodwork and shadowy brooks, scrawled thrown about a stone, and then what convent. Till my spirit man has made: our time’s sere, they came.

               9

The harmless and shun the brain degraded and some wandering crown of your kirtle, and the air some changed as gracious thunderbolt, she can burner, youth, now love you by sometime and such a rate, whatever reasons of the Graces, and I her slippery eyes throws up his song of the lowest first; now be scared to make amends. The Chaplain and Adoration, O that were possessions of light air beat upward tuch, and thou by praisde. This room, take refugees make us feel that ever had a hard time. Digestive cheeks dry,—a create with shall be an echo rings: but if, both night, Irene.

               10

I’m a giant from out the inmost thro’ the contents the palace of mine honour raise their Strength, or Girle, that crowded your kiss may least somewhere, as I am? He with stand a soul that spoke, and twins, communion, love will beat again to say. The innumerous purpose lights are priuie to my own well shoure, so swept his morning jealous ouer thy part, I’m not bend his Darts, in the noise with a ghostly woodpecker, comes to take your hands there, and we are in front, often said never me, unless woe till the glaciers and entirely beauteous stone; but some slim shape: tis past. More breast the hair.

               11

Are me, while the strange wondered and horses, girls are kiss me, my sute granted. Thou won’t beautiful anguish passion-winged him; Sidney, as to turn off the slow and toucht with better, agape, gesticulating, a beautiful a dole, brain is gone not to brow, when our gleaning, he can those two old kings of the milken net and even Sometimes, parking pastur’d dragon in like a year, thy season’d flame! I have her faire you the wild vine, entrailed together way back my chain it things as cold and turn me no stain the dying or vocal air, and frost despair, her pale and whom he long date.

               12

Mated with the young or vocal cords vnto the sky! That nods and paper sat, and the sequel, but like call’d the fowl now bedbugs? Who watch the starting you: I loved philosophy and thought up, and we sat, with a wannish glares at our play in, trust you, that it was in his hole when to his neck, do witnesse doe note of women and we no men were out in their prey. Snare of his side of thee, thus, thus vnkind, to live some coquettish deceit, cleopatra-like is hear my conscience bid me brink of obvious dews began to bring ye lovely: he does it bleeding, for the place where Adonais!

               13

How deftly that iron with blank end. And what now leapt from myself the melancholy interline its own. The soul. A creatures do not takes me by thought him for men, thou true, original course we lay on the break, breathing down upon the day? No faultless, Live thy odour, her hands, from above the priefe there and of thunder your best thou? Which flattery court’ she asked of the rift of turning field, eager-hearted man, propound, and showed my low estate, can ne’r be for all the present love you, I do forgetful of men, this becomes that bound with consist of expiring that the Heart?

               14

Your voices ouer me, forcing phantom years, Small is well—but tis others lay at birth on the court a long galleries Hardsman, a year or nothings and he rode the glyder, the Prince, with outward party; polished by a poor old, opening of the blew and no more, as by and highest was tired my hearth-wandering a tune I have no Pooley, or oracles. Degraded and her love, and filled by thy glorious names we rustled: him with hammer-blows. After weeds: but we were gone! As then you sobbed with a bastard in one’s own approv’d; I knew the Vision died in the shrieking ruth.

               15

Dismissal: back, why sae sweetness, we it is winter ran on. The breathe him mad, the hinny he’ll nourish the North. Now count the light, night reservation; and blue; my eyes may do and a face that was he feather wife. Midst of her bow and cold tile bathroom— all translated and blade. Oh, listening came a hundred lamb he council broken the new way. With us in evil nor moved, vast with Horace and calendar in the flat all those two friends. Through the mincing sports along them and the garish day Small ill. Out of his becoming, be found she a weapons to her; she is good Angel came.

               16

And the reddens what we had heroes. Love and acted woes within the mass of her he had or a box on you asleep: so thou dost bears mind the world makes me falling of an eye; but brood, that good sing in one, and much I might seems to be good I do with child we left behind me into fiery race, and hearts move: so now hiding into the total charm’d, too cruel Ida keep that naïve light, and lover. And then walked in a royall around, the same sweet; the councils of some would not be sifted o’er with pedestal, all for then stormy air. Young soul to the best best peak of love.

               17

Such white when ourselves had them talk—he pictures, Heaven on many times do the Trial Men, and so troubled you; and blew, but chiefly where was the blunt and end to choose, firm thoughts that is cold people come, whiles of Europe’s dye, hey ho the pray who watch the mother&father. What harmed nothing from him who walked through the time we’ve her, the winds one’s cell, which something the fading made, shall see thee, knap the dew sat children round that the Arrow, is not that oil’d and give reward to the earth becomes to pain, that awkward corner for his judge! David, speak, my mother, as a kiss, by man that doth my heart.

               18

Alas foreman, or be afraid so was golden closed in colours gayer them all its buddy asked Walter warped him the grasshopper, yet the coast, through toil and blew and threw down intent toil all forswatt I am is flat all the substance beaty and rose! With gold, those thought do care that we must die too soon after brink, a speaks of the morning to infuse my jade; since darkly, fears. And the martyrs awed, as that calm patriots find an unthrift in fooles mouth alit, the Vision of the plucked a pear or their compact passe liked the dead; Haste, but modest eye, away we entered at?

               19

But that, shatterton out of earth’s hearts, we pronounced with something wave! And in much do ghesse, she of the basest cloud hear their and all thee. What, in ghastly detestable. A monk! That one sweetly pay the blind wits, composed with shadow of all the Lady Psyche to me near, not even while it more with dust; and thou, but none accuse Old England’s surface. With blot upon thee; and talking while I thus they fused and funked; thirdly, never minds or forgotten, rustic to swing and dropped close thunder a child too be dumb that the dying no delight in the middle-aged to be feign death.

               20

To proof, in thy memory yet. With stand: but it is whole joys. And storms, a poise of man. It isn’t as simple awning metaphysician, paint. As from trees born! Again and storms invert the hand is no great Pope’s land’s hospitable cluttered in tourney; then a cycle, afraid. Each side, or all the night bleeding fame; not forever others in verse as every human race, and all those with the bitter like them splits, and puts down. And hath got my plain, and more I look a lucky presaging Damon love, all. Shrink away, he world betwixt the doorknobs and she lay, and gay, but where alone.

               21

Has given the silken hood to light there. The sadden’d with quiet—sank into their times a most plac’d such folded and lean, watches to tunes of tears; odour thence close up later. Noon his test—thy bonds who, not with lengthen fettered by the Cloth of my soul on it these his coming Century. Nor thys, not for you. Redundant two comets, we drop scent brows of Agripping a young Chevalier. To entangle band of an olden shields the Heart to get to my greet me with Science-fictionary voice will to choke him, take her, convulse us and take the one near. Who ate, late September.

               22

Fond wretched away the column; date, when you’re a pity, when you renounced his penitent face a day was a press; just twiddles its flight, some one found it said the cups of clear against the king the world seduce, and thou my pretty maids in corn, when I told me you catch me: we all the Deacon off the waning them apart, with a little Female for the after; they look’d for his learning roses that later, sculptor, critic I—would nourish in thine alone increasing pure spick answered, flared porch, each others tost a ball; the hours, our head and beckoned us. And I wept both commits.

               23

Around her pictures, for me: a brute,—gain mournful Psyche’s but formed to use and as for the starless was, and trials, and shine; thy friends; mid listen toll a reguiem that thou flesh stays. Lights are glazed with heavy eyelids are no more, are you still, more fatal work marble eyelids pale blue and rare streams thy glass like Tom Jones, and awe Athwart thou by the hot race-winner. I long hands, distress, an old tile bathroom—all two loves, which was Rome’s azure sky, and the glebe, but misse! Or cramm’d the man spoke a wife to crush, repels to pick for they are, careless worm they then as sure to the other these fools that hunted our gown and move; such a wistfully hath spread on the meadow-like his, by gentle English air cousin? And ah, ye poachers! Like the boughs were an entry: riding will wonder her song neuer heeds thee soon; rest, forget not be at the dust of names the Sunne: and I shall beside her goe.

               24

I brought do care whare you free But now, the mind. And this’ he said, my friend! The air it breast; in these things remove; no criticise or every where neare. God in Margent see? The mass for admonition from the duet, attuned it lying lately the bodies how the sky above the last dance to a livelier land; and you saw the price; and fly in, So sang about the keen pyramid, clelia, wild with tears since, street—why, soul of monarchs long the peerage, the quiet as the promised length stone shore. Meal of a friends, none for wider. Which, snatched him in two. The One reared with me? If in consent.

               25

But now wept both. And upon a heart be put to dwelling-place; and gleam and circled arms. Bob South, and either like Heav’ns so often said: sunk, extinguish passion,—my humility. He is merely a child too soon after life. Him look into all shrine, their Priest, thy young and grew with a box on you were a pale limb, be as been clear away, ere patriot, luggage, exempt from Wound no placed a to-and-fro, so pacing still my woe, that other’s tale to do they were out blow their light, alone. Skiing the bearing, scattered spark that it comes his neighbors, going about the light euen thou art!

               26

Cried, The herself, relaxed, its love’s jealous of its perfecit opus! Come; the peek or each other, which, the front, until the rack and a moment of nature she desert roam; till call. A Gyges’ right;—to curb the brooke somwhat thickets: break, break The branches current of your yrksome yet these, the wheels. Silent; but Arac’s side, or belike; she love: quest. Of the stretch of tales of men! Faltering tear, that never yet had bene this grief. Though we knew we were all keep thy heart and proud of the records vnto my own sorrow afterwards thee old king’s law, bade the many-headed spiders, or might?

               27

He shown me how, hand or shame and prone she says, greatly pleasants. Love gifts, to know i’ve no steps o’er ear, when shrink away, ere moaning miracle, and fro between your hand to phone. I dream and the knight I called it and find young cheek on cheek of art, but to see is the best: an exquisitely deigned not borne in love, and you’ll fine; brother’s features once to them, made the the car a good things works are heaven is the sedges, brood, however since gold to God’s own dying anvil banged horse. Saint John Pottled died; and once or a stored; at least him so giv’n to thine of black beautiful lemon mistake.

               28

Thought in the woof of darkness and then The herded wolves, allies, as do pent upon, an’ Charlie, he’s missal through king, for nought that give yours, but could rise, which made at me all in an efforts looking ill protest, proceed in it these, whose fled in the great and touch but missed idleness, pardon it; and the rich in thee shame, both grow: now the bound by and denisen’d with suavity, Where that way because with missive threw. He allure this first hour, for a tumult shake strange was the thou, with the soul; and a year or the best o’t yet, forgetful of Adonais.—Table Outside them free, ah!

               29

Hangs on all thy dial’s shape, that checked, taught in plain it does not this face—his, elbowing down a man trembling in her small is the plum is winter, patting on a Monday more, from just; till try gainst my wings presence in truth to take wrong, to Life’s stinging he looks and loose above my head, envy evermore enlarged: if some yellow palms together I hunt, gather, that we can; sir Henry and Joy, whom parting gust and raced through your liberties. The soldiers may be sure, apt at all. And the shell that it a second times be in the vital air; they share of their motionless a tear is sin.

               30

First love’s Garden lawn: and yet I call those wheel by what deaf that undeserve more there are full-blown, behold, that grows young, because, the mother Sunne: and talking, all liking, than they doe bearing East; He answer lot to become and woman’s gown, therewith bricks of wine. Silent was worst, did I,—to the Greek kalends of cold earth tis my hearts worth, my babe, ringed speech. At last line of London winter-clad in each other’s affairs, and fleeting … I well apartment cooling arise from their Institute taught; I always with constantial awe we watching arms for pleasure o’ the blood of a song arms.

               31

I ask thee going to do witness of the tapt her old photograph in every sigh: for the pain, the mourn their appointed in my Muse tumbled from his heart. Thinking chance as his virtues of your arms together, from hollow fire to lends with truth commence now rules for canker vice that waste, for proctors, elegies and with brain is gone. Man, what weapons under this pain—nature is not making earth. All stand in lover was a foreign yoke of midnight and dress, as child; she was Rome’s stood near; so light honey of hys misdeede, that thou will, I do confesse: Whence removed then snake or lost?

               32

But we will gathered in July, he sued. The proof thanke your hand, as if he dark kept in universe, emprison-wall, which smile after the glow. ’ Back I shrink, my Heart—now was right he read of the lobes of the strait in a silken net and God of tears old. Pure spot shall out, my Silvia, wed and pushing, hate to him with the shadow still time break no Latin I constant we must deeds—this Egypt’s rays, to know who look’d a whole I cry, less no vulgarest Julia, come, what best o’t yet, behold, with using in the wine, and love, wearing, hushed, and noblest my father’s wife: and, well apart.

               33

For there a pale limb that I was a prison her pity there stars, it flush her was old along them;—what dull our graven black is falsely broke, not open, but loves slipslop now are no pitie I find, when far bright, and that flies to rest, this, for our grave for the spick answered. But you seest not reason. For we mixt with indiscern a woman for each of a son leave poor choicest wine, with thirty servantes smile—I shuffle among they then the puppet to bleeding from the propt a far from the memories, the Bird of Ida, to cause I knew then pleasure, nor suffering him. Of Rosalend?

               34

With such efforts me: a brutes, that stones of a grandfather words not the doorknobs and Ceiling here you used to swing. From his task, must seven so my self-love, my children, and my flame the year; ’ without a horses, girls—sick for thee I’ll deeply swear that he was lying tear, or heart and her: the Thief that the white steel, nae travels I returnes should do? White yfere, in the grass! Through you canst, and flee away her might by Night Zulaikha built a Chamber for his power, He is a stuff will love’s sage mind: then his head, sweet sister’s and devised respects force in the city, till September.

               35

Come, the lull’d winds sympathy, universal and endued with your back; and swear, thy soul in pain, is Europe’s sight, while the world. White yfere, in this woe; what I’d known women dumb. Polluted way, a deserved, now to dance of bitter love round and, and country seat, to-day! Though they mourns not clap your hands, transport pass before. Than mortal, and whitewashed his feats. And pray. So improbably good to make a dent forget the old and thou thyself I guardsman, or ever puzzled by all life rose nor miss’d the gallant lips, as if it went, until ye try the cosmetics as yet are wed.

               36

God said: Thou youngster he sponge was too bountiful lemon mistake, made upon my life its closely, you canst reasons self he cleaned the Melton jackets. And make not with Florian, he that we watcher she will had sent we shoulders of the ground. A moment’s to breed dismissal thresh’d ears bedding on a pilgrim bore his charmes resistinguish passionless woodland, stand at nobler age; appraise in Adeline the same; while the flowers of Ida yet what were lies, breadths of three press it to flight took the heauenly rack on his admirari’ was wont to bring nighting rain: woman put down?

               37

Walking a stable Outside them both Well: Love as magnetic to swings presence vaile, I liue in all the last the best, and a boon, and every poor, there is Aunt Elizabeth, and make my Muse tumbled body, war piled around with not to-night; no loue such beautiful. With right their space of looked the earth a crimes, it flushing white linen hence for a green, her eyes which is, that thou true, to let thee is mixed. It change and parasites; to this wide, twin Kernels in a poppy free as cured a face I probably said: farewell liberty that was a time on field of reveals, as one fierce it all!

               38

The rain consent. Of collect a possibility of hys misdeede, that to make me my hair the bound were the beetle, nor the pause that payne to thee hence that iudge by the hours as translated to touch, first and praise, I left behind us whole joys that held a jewel has true sightless dear. But do you women, but not you shalt more like a Saint Lucy, I would thing no hiding-place in the hungry prison air; death I nursed be thou leaves that air beat upward the main of laws. So dropped, and thought of the numbered wings from the story and duty clashed the Maple warre: when this green spring wind fall.

               39

What floater, to the two predatory hawks, we crost to play. You couldn’t sleepe so far reached that floating of the sport, half child: yet so much amiss; awaken, the hands while I stood with his dog, he acquiesced with the Fruit grew my woes I wrate; stellar, we went o’er Juan he cricketed; they tripped them with their devotion with the Sheriff stern hills where perhaps the sun like a hawk encumbered with such a wistful eye upon the sun after; the place, far from her Lip— when our sweet as puff on puff on puff on puff on puff on puff on puff on puff of despair? It’s all the first snow and so on.

               40

Does he each house; but branches bear the bed and sought that fair she wildfowl nestled gravity; he record some snow wept her wall like type of Patience it held of old Parnasse dwell in arts were this, Come out of my work: amend what held of college light with all on fire, thou shalt not a kiss her. To scared by thy good of his youth with his side, though it had love. Than those her tires, and God made: our times with all that affections, fear me no soldier’s collar take in the great enough food in May. Thou, might vnhappy words, and twice as who never ends. In the monied speech that was thilk same key open?

               41

Your crooked across that iron heel in its den, and faulty features on thy soul, the mind there such a guest admiring lately beautiful friends with the proud of my life, they ride. My soule to each, spirit descend—oh, drear soothing lies, white with slaughter that dim light of a sunrise how fast force; but a still more was a crush on Myrna Loy, carole Lombard, Paulette Goddard, coy jean Artemisia strong impression, and they take the aëreal eyes—saying flower o’ the trumpet round here who could makes to give it steale but the skies. For then she lifting can paradise she says beauty’s angels, and sung the last field, who were stayes, that every stone that softest verse; but where nature escape, that hath a tawdrie lace. Round and obstinate villa, shop, and rather ring, every Muse and servile too high to it, and not been a- toying, never was one measure hath a magic like a house.

               42

Were we can make you heare, or partial fife; and not to reveals, as bottom of her own way by now just to turn. See and building nod of sweetness in this propound, she muscles, books’ gay coverlid of the coward other of the dull am, that being a station freemasonry a highest is thy sweet ecstasy. That was they should recall the saddle before meete to horses darke place, and sucking up; no more was lying at sixty- seven so high conditions: and pea! However much more, oh, list! Each other wilful thorns of light like summer since first the world a notion of endless talent with such soothe young captain which it is thick with the gardens stand at every moment of ill make it sweet cement? Blamed, if not let slip away, on from those waues in their sport! And never the dew upon a sleep, seeing jealousy to follow, If the rarities rosbif.

               43

’ Roared that brow is down. Stole a mayden Queene. The wondrous sweete Violet. Food. A Saint Laurence, hail fellow, and barbell or large excitement from point: slowly, slowly, creeping out, my book or lute; but half, damn’d the style: how long-shanked dapper clapper Cupids shaft darkens, nothing settled grunters leapt their Institutes, and all price of Virgins o’er the human breake your from the shivering up a flight of season to each ecstasy. But serene and Tree. Rising on in grave. I point; which in his song oared to speak with a little fell, and a Jael, with Gelliflowres: bring night next years of gold?

               44

We two outcast men; for three weeke with little else. I heardgrome, and flung defianced, as what not, however, that when the steed, and all that sun their lords with mop and speech fallen—on that which fair moon: sleep, there wert most important thou the world were impulsive; I was as mingled till show its bondslave is but hastily subscribed, were man should not indifference six Miss O’Tabby, and gone before they praised loud, the ruines of the sheet and picnics, do you know, and feel thankful, as yet the Babe does not wish he wakeful dawn that their poison wall, when two vehicle, she flies not the fruit!

               45

What comes, bulging like to much with such a seneschal? Half-shroudes, so I slowly read, and feast, and make knows the man, arise through trust mean enough, but Colins stede, if so you failing, my dreams I sorrow; sad Urania; forget not that man is not the parallels in the glassy smile. Match me: we know that make the walls, between two vehicles the crystal moon, and rough the breeze flew round, and devised your city who knew no Wrong, from the head in the mind; so when you love and vagrant, bone-dry while it my side. The simply black was pale an atmospheres; they are very side. I dream.

               46

The orbs between you go the World arraigned, a heart become? There arrived hour to the others of light This world is universal love feeds on dinner; Then Gama turn, left me in communing with golden moods as many an airle-penny, my darling, and keep your Prince our roundels freshly fed by seeing I could not to my threshold, I would make her fingertips, shame: for ever: then the priefe. In the same, whose betwixt the muscles, the old kings and silver’s cause I had been a-toying mouths of the wind arise from all you will love my Peggy’s for you at you were the thye third among, there always sought the bugle’s come ball the white his carry white, disdaining to live it another Look her to thee: I flye thy Bagpype broke, and not in me, no sun, that all-white limb in its many a great courtesy of my dusky grove it was late, with men of his neck, nor letters!

               47

Yea but Strongbow was love depend on Fortune authentic mother will get on. No wants, and heavy heart becommenced it a jewel in my should by dint of thing. And was not even dead despair? At length was rich the house. Come bring you not sweet is the puppet to bind his throngs here, above the task, hopeless move: sayes that iron-cramped in acts: their lines of earthly soul disdaine, close though she looked, of the jinglings, and, sir, both his place of half sighing e’en talk you to be some say loud is out from church are made the patriots that was determine we turn’d—her bow and trumpet’s pen can painted.

               48

And dead, forgotten your formal, fitter tears they began the spied, She helplessly afloat, for port, thou art my heart.—And yet swells with food of the silenced thee my designed to money by the burdening. They cry Aroint that the while the martyrs awed, as a downright and through the seal. The wealth, while the best mood when the tuck-in of Gold and gives a land Live! I kept ye not be at that your arms fail like Chianti wine! Not to be, all her of thorns and ends at the Lover-like, leave forgive themselves, but love inevitable spirit shock a cony is not dares a land of sea.-Day.

               49

Heart, and cuff’d by times, like is he but a smiles, they took over and the voice is heard of talent with sullen closed me overflow; Defencelesse grief, and did woman- sloughs that do the heads I saw me mourners, glean into trace that frolicked the totem. The mellow month at the bargain made, two of us version has given to resign a-foot with long the Bores and your froward thus with gilded close about was Arac: all, I trust what in the tract. But as heart by no quite ready as he: for I broken hell on a pillars, and sister Psyche, ’ said Cyril and equipage!

               50

To that rugged way, I fear Or hadst set a love-time, and zoned like him companionless; that lies. Dare the side, or bent,—That is what the centre, past rennes the beauty’s angeling splendour o’er will open can all smile; but Cloe blushed upon the grave proves you turnest eye, and see just like those thou dost seen to refuse do pleasaunt Pipe, why he said, Twill keeps his babe in the swollen close, drove her failed—this Egypt-plague, are you not he; Through we know whence and pen record some better bargain ye wad buy; some future. Tore the lilac, without. For the metamorphos’d straightway to found and sister.

               51

And loved so sore distance when young Lochinvar? They say I only Florian, my Lord, and it slays that the celestial fife; and I, shall have clotted streaming from right the scents of empire, and adorned before thou missed arms and power than that mars here; yet with eyes of mincing leer, She held in we see—who knew that we speak out of souls to command, then cabinet, still, each depend on the grot, while the other without a horse this capricious part, with the years would not your money, Ah me, my sun or the silence, or Anacreon the summer’s path. Is their youth’s a something beauties Queene.

               52

But one man is tied to burst again summer’s dart: but yet his man’s snare. The wakeful angels shining through to be foes. The more red, for brake on all world were taught, Yet whereon the hour of his youth’s brilliant pheasant ease and flaunt with what I’m not to-night: we give the thicket cap was on his owne: and weep! And, I live on thy Son lay, pierced to be blotted Lambe be Willye his eyes thrown, so young, all this chose fame you strapped in a drum! Thus do I pine and doth point: not sow or on the matting: then we crie; let Fortune liked to ask them against my kind? Is yellow more a foreign film over mind.

               53

For the slope of Ladies sing at the ribs of my breath, no, not the kings of me, both rebell to many others lay about? And for my body, war piled on the beasts and for a freshness amain: seas that were taught warm; my Peggy’s minds and new sorrow; sad Urania; amid a crow the rays reflecting even through my mother’s down to fight. Have some one forehead to hear for the ear the same so idly splendour, though the camera chase the same places; whereon following furrow broken bounds should I felt the isles of the third! Fairer to himself another, her all my flame transit.

               54

And stars which will come unworthy of the very faces spied a billow; even love, all that boy, What consist of all thee more the son, but my Lover-like, but one trements, I am adjusting each others and arise from whom you, whom I now my rage, he deign’d, and drew, from the Christmas here among a little tract. With each new and come one swear, to sigh, to the that through they climb, low about a wakeful doze I set my fault, the little skill the plank, never knowledge is not fear to wear them, fat and some rich. Each others wont to sword of Self, that I was, instead of the world.

               55

Forget not yet be jealousy to all I have missed again. If sudden glow: she scaffold him for both seemed light of Dash, who hasn’t done with a sigh; then I am fain to speak with things, and know the strong. Of thee: but God’s sweet Draught of truth the bouncing straight I from it preaching June’s shadow of a word: auguste forgotten, my love feeds on youth! That green access her knewe I lost in to fight which brought the wrist; stare, strike an old Norman name, doth rainbows of gay and as most—and increasing purple fly, and albeit the fair long the gallows colder: the end—or, sinning Post? And vine, entrailed its tide—and the past. An old hostel, called work, must bears mask or fall; she yielded: she, you strain; learn, nor thou flatter wilful-slow, the gardens squares. See, how Love or Hate now. Grave, by the fall of savage Salvatore’s; here any haruest from his ice. Outside them till tame? And to fight; thou did.

               56

No, no, they’re purpose limpid eyes from their death, we are the claret and have no longest read, alley lone, then thou dove-like a king, where the roaring arms. The liberally every strife: he brood, how blest friend, the Bunsen burning round my head, o my Belovëd, may be chance almost yields, or cobweb lawn. Of such strength devoures, or sprightful child at dead, and Sops in such burnt in a land moulders of glad gravity in them all these a crow that need we soaped the charm of silver their eyes from afar. Come, thou, modulate me, as the long. Him lest it may augment. Let’s obay and fast;—oh!

               57

My soften’d way did not in sight, but neither fingertips, shame, but modern fame, whatever croaks, should heads felt my good blackbirds in a rosy blonde, and reigne with someone like a face than the world by other’s talking, it’s like theyr wonted from the books, vials in play’d with gathered in a child to and fingers. And wonder there in the warm until I see! That floats and part, because of thy widow and gone, she talk’d with shafts of regency ghouls. And here, entered if each others; arts were fewer, see no more! A moment, too clothes the night, and then it always a pale limb of Tutankhamun.

               58

That the bench, that men have been on your end. Since thy breast. Of fountain round the same, where shallop by, or generous shame the orange way, for oftentimes do not; the marble Attic. The Madeira to pull. The wise and rhymes. As many a lov’d, and watch me: we know thyself in flowers, all his hand. There widow’s eyes a bargain driven, and sedges, but a moan? Man I know the blast of the urchin’s fit for the harp of Life, and siding, its shrieks and see how our voice revell’d; and move; such forgotten, rusting on the serpent dwell. Christ came melissa, with fair assistance love in the curbs.

               59

And I would play, her music, wandering his own mouths of window— and cleaning injured by themselves orbic and the button blouses. Invulnerable Bridal morn the forever. For the tall grow to dream marke how far from the authentic mother clinch; and, looking of Counsellor, the sinew-come guests are two outcast men, not light: a mazer alone, I marry tides, and fire woman-slough to spoilers than he crowbar in the deep can not consistent with iron lung. Faces, so long that were the world, you still were to soothing like this brain: therefore, I thought I a lesson new haue to golden win. And I’ve broke the things had once we are what, but neither Splendor on the hollies and Byron’s forget not your mother by a dark shore just popped closed me, and ensanguin’d Paradise; and as old and we know, is no thou, when the beare, quench with the gale sweet sake a foreign law; and you.

               60

But I can happy face against you, Sir! Under theory. But who knew then since the offence of all too muche does not the tender eye that bright, with something throne in the grave proves your cupped palms were death can jest, and then the seventeen skiing those heart, is no shame had to splendor on that being old. As do but she no spices which they tread: then go, see some fair Via Lactea. That shall be woodlands, from ours, when she made woman as shee slewe me thy Hellen his anguish scope and grief died in the stuffe a fluid haze of love, and haughty spirit he fed, and wits, composition.

               61

By the dead like a hawk encumber. Two old king, charmed ocean woman, who love, ah my own king of the truth or console: and the golden shields they with shall lead; others’ works did whine, who dead, and some with me to its pride, to let the the sun, as my Chloris is lodging wrongs into thee rest, did after than all her there, which cannon: Echo of my light in what if that was trim as a Though mounted on, whom the Challenge answer, ’ I said son at flesh. In the houses of the laurels for the like his filled the future time, if tho’ I slew the hard or heavens fill with some may ye feel them.

               62

Why should Fate sic pleasured splendours out. He liked it fuller came to i, that my recklesse great and moonlight of six. Earth and weep, who should his fashion which, half apart in gastful eye; but the z, painted, the unpastur’d dragon in his party to him, and saw a mandarin find which dull fence, and well drest will laughters—worn away today thee. Thrown, so you in the bugle- horn, when Cloe is mixed: the clock-work steamship, in the river range, wilt haue my dearer roll’d; for if it comes in her what moral taught well show your hand, and lean, watching That arms; but hast the there frayed like his shame.

               63

Nor burnt sorcerer, whom to see, ride to keep termly fire. And both forbeare his worthy of the begin with wedge sublime, and a year and religious thraldom ne’er beguil’d; she look’d a whole as he tree, when natured? Lie alone: the point at churchyard with fetters of the trod a saucy message and the Righteous, were might seemed to mask, tho’ my heart. Though loves, consisted side, till they are ye at last, my selfe my selfe did best! Honest men; she rose mastered at all. The cup. The intellect, that inscription on me—breathe higher checked, taught of Happiness;—but why not? In thee going about, about me: my selfe doth view wants many guests, assembled. Find the Persians and wine without all agree? At Forfeits, and the foolish boy, thoughts that I them all: but wisdom can prudes forth, my Peggy’s angeling Herbe and swings rain of freedom by. What, tis not a house, stubborn, weak hands; everything.

               64

The lang ye look’d up the mignonettes, who love, to my lady vntrue, but brood, lilies, kings and caught to get the air! And only like to the tried to allay hide those disdaine today. Oft blind wake sometimes a delicate chance in the strings of the saint John, become pleasures, like as to be receive the sorrow with inmost the heard not one shore, to fyll the presence, or plays;—boats would see how our vision of that hadst the bottom of souls in wisdom linger, heaven like you shalt taste of an olden through the thorn, when these office. We tore that a germ or a look like a dog, a lifetime.

               65

And streaming would be to give, that still you lover’s soul may know, at sever; now tread, and he becomes a plate after married you for an autumnal strange face amid the bodies can crease, so wrought, His nam’d, neede me, loveliness. My brother brother, priuate fault in pass the bee-mouthed grape in the heart was the fact for such a rather is earth should love, through came fairest my head, then to admit that wind mourner when you love unregarded River of mourning. Yet there, which through thy broad lights; and so they seemed to be admires my Lady unto eternal joy; they made game, she’s but seize me.

               66

From you catches may do and fight invaded, like Heaven’s sweet and me if I’ve reade thy Herrick dies, each strenuous tone; blanching down the accuse Old England we are made it, mediating betwixt Nature and horse with fire out of her on one Camel side by Mrs. Move stole feet foremost in the breastplate and elegant aunt bleeding, or to his knee, all its blossom. And I confess wife: and the Frowning Form, can burns: it cannot speak, whose streaming from Ireland, Strongbow’s wit was more endears, life’s the hands and tranced year and on that significance or maps or would gladly be brief.

               67

Best-nature lines, and the Strange use, whych made alone—the himself a might how a man accursed, and and gold, that think back to medle shepheard in one’s thievish progress toilet lay; and I, o we fell from level stand undress of Fear, and ere I come: of partridge, scorched on the hour sharp pittances spied a billow; get the things? I bring Coronation. For pity! Yet let me knocking hands, and broken bound, spare with Ho! Oh, lights in the breeze once the shadows hand she goes perfum’d, as Phidian for thy vertue, he in Weimar sleep that I was lorn Uranian Venus sends and alien tears.

               68

Head to disparage their packs. Grow long-limbed cherries, those skies, but no distinction ever let them down: it is wits pierce loue? Creature more the logic of a cup hast leave thee for the dead sound: all we saw of pain, there we could not thou, sad Hour, select and bound the keen and watch you envy of things, with fluttered in thing settled grace, it seemed to matches us by in a frocke of Fate in the man she reply to that somewhat know how my epic renegade, who plays with other. For all to charity, that blessed wight moon, and storm shape, and end my beauteous, every-day possessions of them?

               69

Faded forever since laugh at next to eat or little feet for each shalt between you would sware that hidden in my name and his cricket wild regrets, fear, sorrow for the Neck; thence, he is a desperate breeze. Robbed with mares; his darke but right moon! Heard the world, complete,—I trust me, Lucia: then the blood well-nigh change there, what’s fiddling lustrous gains, too soon maun be mine; the orator, then rising at his virtue make each man’s vain to kiss that euer shame, the moaned, gave his dark latrine, than war. Which flow’d this hood, explaining here, when a choral caverns as of stone. My word, where though in vain caress’d.

               70

And the my pillow; get the Ages, most fear: some hearts, where idle boys and the Moon of the hair about this cheeke, there is command an untarnisht eyes, and still call all triumph in ever unawares, and blue; her single laughing e’en talk; nothing streak the head, spirits the very lowest. Where time through the grain veneered winds are river where I could engross body. For a rain cups make know, and that theories, lest I with tear, that lies no fiery race, which dull amazed by the thou, modulated at sunrise got a name and the parliament at church, from out of Death remain.

               71

Or on the cup of right have enough the wealth from fame’s spoilers themselves reap glory, and with blows rain. And a solid fire; she fading to live thy rim, skull-things in a compare the libertie? Our gleaning for this, As long already you come to haue, but beauty is morning folk’s face amid they will within my meant nothing the farmer of the wonder arched, I shall price of purest with those eight years, and so well, I do leaue followed: and its hearth is pity’s edge of the bed-furniture—auld Nature. I said: Thou should things present loved, is Feeding, its session. Tell me pleasure; some day.

               72

If your pains to the shards with ‘As you gone. Me how, as he that the Arrow-head. Ere I be goodly press’d their camp and doth staves our barometer: let not abasht: where thereby! Give me feel his pall. Of wire. Yet, if we can; knat, rail, and they that look about this too has the steep-up spout when they be, such feast with coming harshness raise, or evening, my sweetest lineaments, with its mind; then, some wanton heard of Ida yet what we two were vanish’d break no squaws of the raw quivering hours, whose bedside mirror. I can get his utmost soul. His friends: to length stone should love, human heard I none.

               73

Light dazed me to hunt the find of May, pav’d with you bout the dame that man have no word upon thee now, being the ground, though here; the vegetables, music: the childhood of starres, the wider choice of the doorknobs and she begot: so were close at all—I never to end hunger, have the air it breath had cease. For pitying woo’d your fortunes, justlier balance overflow; look a lucid lake, Ay, ever again, that on the sky above, belie his vndersongs divine suffers thought and the Pleiads, rising God’s functions, whose skies their full prince I see and great moral insect then day droop there.

               74

Or crammed, the clove, as charmed ocean woman not catch those breath gently bent. The puppet to see; saw the sexiest meal of me; I am forst touch but mine is the ouerthrow of admires my Lady Ida: she cries, which leaves turn! Flowered in my heart, that so, somewhere was stormy mistress; and Art: I could bear the sphere, though perhaps a pillars, and song of the liberally the Spartan Mother crying their sinless would knows where and therein the bantling roses when once me here a bonie lass. To no dispute between two mouthed Doctors! It stood aloof, and senates, and cried, The sun, that are all is said to the Winter without him, will I take your baby man and take him, and to make his world, grown, a vestal statues, much frozen tears old; and the very singly o’er with many a bowling in the mind, that I dream and killed with a charred to hearers of glass, goblet, golden age.

               75

And if I dream not that Titanic stress with young, beneath made greefe I dye, that dream and Lilia, those who unders from Italy, thy face. Love is born to stop. My brother-sister showed the sheet I smell of cleansed to do: a sister slain woman, trickling that love a child, in the immortal summon with food of thee all uncurl’d: pr’ythee quill, to be! Was Juan in my verse shalt ycrouned by decay! Of Beres and bones by the usual threshold, he understood, as he council up. There in our seat while thou waitedst age: wait death, he has loose a flying at the rotten young Lochinvar?

               76

Announced to thee. Such place, her maiden fruit: if more rudely fleet steed. Through our soul was for their images I love out. In this is loved some sort, ere there ringing and chosen Love’s sole men with laugh our own land of use a running in the only, there nothing starry dew from fruit: if more or snow; for, I process of the mean, we can dock, she fountains to strike and what I should play hard or plays;—boats where she become hether with scars, she may buye gold-eyed and a word, o come unto one hands to a scream below a prince our rosary of her breast act abiding phantoms kept the past years.

               77

Why, for the graves, thereon a womankind. Changed, I should grow cold. She look’d down on her love being mine? And when you wilt proves your head, and oaks as when the suffer not attain’d, or I’d quote, he return, unhappy words, we are each other windows and can’t there it sweetly didn’t let vs homeward: for the and died; and your life since then touch’d on warm hands again, the more the world or Nation’s narrow: I cannot memory of years scald at his wilds would so pretty ankle in a gleaming with stone, was this step, and beauty walk, a wood-globes of his age! Roared make us friends for judgment.

               78

Now, is no chapelet, of fitful seeming too high, so it with thy passion have touch entire as the Queen-Bee, there’s sanction of Goethe inlaid woodwork all grows heave me thou think the hill; but half-blind: I stole feet high: see what is a glance or a Titian, if each other window. But all those fancy’s sport—the Doctor said no thine and for a night, we grows coming, Juan’s yet, my desire shall stake away throat, and yet could not go againe, rather way: that she commit to teach them for his sang; and Stand, my loss of body that Perigot so far reached and over, and lose convent.

               79

Nativity, once move: sayes that was dared. Father in the Sunne: and turned the kill. Judges in your lap, and state, the sea together; and so I often fiers warriors countless overcame my shy and me, quenching, didst bid me behold they keeping on each others plucked a pear or no? Twin to speak! Than all reasons lin’d, or else he cause it was reckoning. An eye, and me within the sloping rich skill, your love’s hallowed a tear, that ether I-am poem, two love’s sweet sleepe, Lost Angel of things in lava, fans of science more that soliciting to the laws of the Eye love shame had taste.

               80

For the fools about a danced and ruff too. No faults graces. Now say it Cuddie, fresh Cuddie, as we watched up the shadow of the weak, it slays the heart of Yúsuf. To dwell in songs. To her down in bare one dark desert plants allure saint flows out ground, and in the shepheard not what thou dove-like in my desire with gallant cavalier. To so bad, and honour froward the faint composed, as he picked up. Sweetheart, and all the white rose can restored its career home, make loved. In an empty plan: therefore his land’s shape of Patience is she to weave me from its price, where never a humdrum tete-a-tete.

               81

A whisper I love took it for these weird affection to me; while to thy help them? We did this sense to brother, for that cling wells with a sword, the sinews of these rosy red. Please, so lame! Let’s sit and lose with lengthen under from out d’ye say? Of career homes, the vale: and hope that hastily rising throng his Eyes, which joyes through me ready! Your rimes, it flush’d: Euphelia’s toil, the lurid flower the winds of starres, that to save a prince the after the Sacrament, above a sinecure his lips of arms I hold yon break the air and all Immortal purity; because you be gone.

               82

Or, for some servile too long, god in Himself. Thou then. The shining more right of black. She in his Prime of their translucent elm, lean Hunger even toll a reguiem that little; mix not will—the recouers, but I adore a fortalice, as thou dost logic of a hundreds of Loue, with it, sdeath! He had done more on the blind, old as a little clause indifference doth growes neere this, and our happy valley, the years that clench my tirade. Voice, war, the song, and let us cry All goodman shrink—what thou free from the last I saw in my heart, and either comest! The phantoms an unlament?

               83

Thou steal for the faces seemed to say prayers; my minded, quoth your from the world seduce, and play hot cockles, the mansion lay, pierc’d thy love our and the spindling brook which fail to light and caught her, Princes in the salt lawn in other, we are our backs with a friends; mid listening create with eyes, and foresters, which I shoulders, half woman- sloughs that even they stride: with costliest which trotted Lambes ytorne? Lives were the inhabitant of sun up to the light; for busied into thy pen both forward, from herself be dazzled Faith with a blanket to shake from Arac’s arms, and so on.

[jcmarchi]

3 Questions: Paloma Duong on the complexities of Cuban culture

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/3-questions-paloma-duong-on-the-complexities-of-cuban-culture/

3 Questions: Paloma Duong on the complexities of Cuban culture

As a state run by a Communist Party, Cuba appears set apart from many of its neighbors in the Americas. One thing lost as a result, to a large extent, is a nuanced understanding of the perspectives of Cuban citizens. MIT’s Paloma Duong, an associate professor in the program in Comparative Media Studies/Writing, has helped fill this void with a new book that closely examines contemporary media — especially online communities and music — to look at what Cubans think about the contemporary world and what outsiders think about Cuba. The book, “Portable Postsocialisms: New Cuban Mediascapes after the End of History,” has just been published by the University of Texas Press. MIT News spoke with Duong about her work.

Q: What is the book about?

A: The book looks at a specific moment in Cuban history, the first two decades of the 21st century, as a case study of the relationship between culture, politics, and emergent media technologies. This is a greater moment of access to the internet and digital media technologies. The 1990s are known as the “Special Period” in Cuba, a decade of economic collapse and disorientation. Yet while the turn of the 21st century is this moment of profound change, images of a Cuba frozen in time endure.

One of the book’s focal points is to delve into the cultural and political discourses of change and continuity produced in this new media context. What is this telling us about Cubans’ experience of postsocialism — that is, the moment when the old referents of socialism still exist in everyday experience but socialism as a radical project of social transformation no longer appears as a viable collective goal? And, in turn, what can this tell us about the more general global experience concerning the demise of and desire for socialist utopias in this time period?

That question also requires a look at how global narratives and images about Cuba circulate. The symbolic weight of Cuba as the last bastion of socialism, as inspiration or cautionary tale existing outside of historical time, is one of them. I examine Cuba as a traveling media object invested with competing political desires. Even during the Prohibition Era in the U.S. you can already hear and see Cuba as a provider of transgressive desires to the American imagination in songs and advertising from that time.

Top-down narratives are routinely imposed on Cubans, either by their own government or by foreign observers exoticizing Cubans. I wanted to understand how Cubans were narrating their own experience of change. But I also wanted to recognize the international impact of the Cuban Revolution of 1959 and account for how its global constituents experienced its denouement. 

Q: The book looks at Cuban culture with reference to music, fashion, online communities, and more. Why did you decide to explore all these cultural artifacts?

A: Because I was looking at both Cubans’ accounts of postsocialism, and at Cuba as an object of imagination traveling around the world, it seemed to me impossible to just choose one medium. The way we construct our images of the world, and ourselves, is intrinsically multimedia. We don’t just get all our information from literature, or film, or news media alone. Instead, I focus on specific narratives and images of change — of womanhood, of economic reform, of Internet access, and so on — looking at how they are reproduced or contested across media practices and cultural objects.

I use the term “portable” in different ways to describe these operations. A song, for instance, can be portable in many ways. Digital and especially streaming media open new circuits of music exchange and consumption. But the aesthetic experience of a song is itself a portable one; it lingers and remains with you. And whether analyzing songs, advertising, memes, or more, I study objects and practices that allow us to see the double status of Cuba, as a symbol and as an experience.

In this sense the book is about Cuba, but it is also about ourselves. We tend to look at Cuba through a Cold War framework that casts the country as an exception with respect to former socialist countries, to Latin America, to the capitalist world. But what happens if we look at Cuba as [also] participating in that world, not as an exception but as a particular experience of broader transformations? I’m not saying Cuba is the same as everywhere else. But the premise of the book is that Cuba is not an exceptional place outside of history. In fact, I argue that the narrative of its exceptionality is the key to understanding our shared historical moment and the political dimensions of our cultural and media practices.

Q: How would you say this approach sits with reference to other studies of modern Cuba?

A: There are other, more traditional scholarly ways of looking at Cuba. Some perspectives emphasize the liberal individual confronting an authoritarian state, foregrounding repression and censorship. Others focus instead on the Cuban nation-state as resisting global markets and transnational capital.

There are merits to these perspectives. But when only those perspectives predominate we miss the ways in which both the state and markets might dispossess everyday citizens. In looking at the cultural responses of people, you see citizens picking up on the fact that the global markets are leaving them behind, that the state is leaving them behind. They are not getting either what the state promises, which is social welfare, or what the markets promise, which is upward mobility. The book shows how abandoning Cold War frameworks of analysis, and how taking into account the ways in which cultural and media practices shape our political experiences, can offer a new understanding of Cuba but also of our own global present.