#because non verbal just means “without speech” and non-verbal communication exists

[y-rhywbeth2]

Lore: Gnomes #1

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

Culture | Homelands | History | Religion ---WIP

Today we remember that the Forgotten Folk exist.

Featuring whatever scraps of their culture I could get my hands on while digging.

Including gnome and halfling solidarity; gnome weddings; birthdays; the toaster and some other stuff.

Then the three distinct groups: Svirfneblin, Forstneblin and Rock Gnomes who don't have a fancy gnomish name as of now.

-

Amongst themselves, the gnomes refer to themselves as the Doamun - roughly translated to "Us-who-endure," and their language is munthar ("us-talk"). The gnomish accent is something of a brogue; soft and quieter, described as having a humming or murmuring quality. Pronunciation is mostly flat, with a firm downward emphasis on stressed syllables.

Amongst outsiders the doamun are often referred to as "the Forgotten Folk", because history and the vast majority of non-gnomes often totally overlook their existence.

In the Realms there is a form of short-hand sign language that developed amongst workers in noisier industries to quickly communicate basic, vital information using arm and hand gestures. Gnomes and halflings have both adopted this into their everyday speech when conversing amongst themselves, and are capable of adding extra information or carrying on two conversations at once (one verbally, one by sign). The two races also have a tendency to co-opt human slang and make their own variants while living in cities, so that they can “talk in front of humans without humans knowing all that’s said.”

Gnomes deliberately keep to themselves, to avoid the violence and other trouble that often seems to plague other races' societies. Due to their lack of enmity with any particular faction, and their dedication to political neutrality, they also make useful intermediaries when there's friction.

Some call gnomes cowards, which would be incorrect - gnomes have martial traditions and the willingness to use them if they must, it's simply that gnomes as a whole have absolutely no interest in territorial borders, or having land be considered "theirs," or wielding power. These social constructs are foreign and irrelevant to them. Gnomes are largely content to live in their towns and villages hidden away from the world. Humans have begun to shake this ages-old neutrality, however, as the never-ending expansion of human settlements has begun to encroach on the peace of gnomish homes.

This desire for peace and privacy is a factor in the fact that gnomes heavily favour the school of Illusion when it comes to magic.

Their lack of interest in riches and glory means that should a gnome achieve those things, the famous adventurer can expect to return to a nonplussed community that places no value on these things and sees them as just some guy. Maybe one with a head too big for their shoulders after spending too much time with the Big Folk.

-

Tidbits of overarching gnome culture:

Gnomes have a unique form of traditional dance called "slap-dancing" - the audience forms a ring around the dancer, and both they and the dancer slap the front of their upper thighs to form a syncopated beat between the steps.

Doamun history is an oral tradition, preserved by women in the form of traditional chants.

Gnomes are the master inventors of the realms, and have invented numerous clockwork gadgets. Including a kind of clamp that works as a toaster.

A birthday is a day to reflect on one's ancestors and departed loved ones while the individual is "still here" for another year. Visiting graves and telling the departed how you're doing is a common way to celebrate. (That doesn't mean there won't be a party though.)

While not on the same level as dwarves, gnomes can definitely hold their liquor.

The Doamun and the Hin ("halflings") appear to have had significant cultural exchange;

They both have the knowledge to concoct a very powerful painkiller called meerithaele. This drug is only used in the most circumstances, when the patient is suffering extreme physical trauma, or to ease the suffering of the dying.

When a gnome would count with their hands, as humans do with their fingers, they instead count the backs of their knuckles.

Apparently the Realms has a tradition of ancient magic based on runes, and the Doamun have their own form of it, but I can't find any more details. It's an old, dying art that most people know nothing about, even amongst the gnomes themselves.

Their famous philosophers include Nith Foelkor (884-929 DR) who wrote a treatise called Yoan Drae, roughly; "The life of a gnome." He posited that the only concrete truth of existence is what one perceives and feels.

Other traditions they share with the Hin include very similar wedding ceremonies:

While there are traditions for weddings, they're not that big a deal and the partners tend to invent their own customs, or at least their own spin on tradition, unique to themselves and their relationships. There is no standard dress for weddings, and the bridal veil is not a concept in their culture.

The traditional structure is as follows:

There will be an officiant, and the vows will be said in a setting of natural beauty - such as a glade or by a stream. The officiant will begin the wedding by beginning the "calling song", which will signal the couple to step forth - if it's a m/f couple then traditionally the groom will step forth, if it's a same-gender couple then the oldest of the pair is the first to step forward. These rules are not set in stone though, and the couple may chose to mix it up. There are many traditional calling songs, which are often customised to fit the couple. Sometimes couples write their own.

Once the two are standing face-to-face you have the usual "does anybody here object?" - It is not socially acceptable to actually object, unless there are legitimate legal issues (such as if this marriage is taking place in a realm/amongst a clan that doesn't recognise polygamy.) Naturally, many romantic dramas feature the romantic lead standing up and declaring their undying love at this point, but in reality that wouldn't be acceptable behaviour.

There will be a brief sermon on love and marriage, and a varying degree of religion, depending on how religious the couple/clan is. The couple exchange speeches they've written for each other (as before, either the groom or the eldest traditionally goes first).

The couple then spit on their left palms and raise them up to hold hands as the officiant begins a lucky chant to bless their wedding. The bodily fluid is usually spit, doesn't have to be - you could use tears of joy, or blood, for example. They will then embrace, kiss and exchange tokens. These tokens can be anything, including rings, though those are not the default.

Then the reception; dancing, music, food and then the couple goes off to enjoy some private time - said private time may be anything from planting a new seed as a symbolic ritual to going on some kind of quest/adventure together.

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According to their creation stories, the first gnomes were born when Garl Glittergold came across a cavern rich with minerals. He breathed upon them, and they opened up to reveal the first gnomes.

Forest Gnomes The forstneblin live for around 400 years. They stand at a range of 2'1" - 2'10" tall and they none ever reach 3 feet, making them the smallest of the Doamun. They are the only gnomes that live almost exclusively above ground, and according to the creation myths were born from emeralds, which are sacred to them.

Forstneblin have made no mark whatsoever upon the history books, the most they've done is shut down logging companies and other incursions in their home forests, and even then their work and settlements are so well hidden by illusion magic that nobody realises they were there in the first place. Other defences include the local fauna, as forest gnomes put their innate ability to speak with animals to good use and use them as an information network. Nature and life are sacred to the gnomes, and clerics are as likely to have injured animals brought to them for healing as villagers.

They have no quarrel with or even a mistrust of outsiders, they simply do not believe that either party has anything to interest the other, so they don't make contact. When they do approach an outsider, they'll use illusions to pass themselves off as a member of the outsider's own race. They are shy in their interactions, but pleasant enough and easy to befriend, and when it comes to outsiders they generally get along best with the races whose cultures share their love of the natural world; other gnomes, elves, and halflings. Humans, they tend to be wary of, as human industry rarely keeps the welfare of the environment in mind.

Their communities are rarely more than 100 people strong, and are sustained through foraging and a small bit of hunting. The entire hamlet is carved inside the trunk of a still-living tree, carefully constructed so that they are hidden within the boughs and almost impossible to spot. The homes are spaced out enough to afford the occupants sufficient privacy, and all sport cylindrical windows to allow plenty of light in. Each home has a passage down into the earth below the tree-hamlet, where a communal chamber has been excavated as a public space.

Forest gnomes have a great respect for their elders. The leaders of these communities are the eldest gnome in them, and they have no divisions of labour based on gender; everybody is treated the same. This leader wields no authority, they are simply afforded respect and their advice is valued on account of their long life experience.

Religion is important in forest gnome society, and clerics and druids are common. Their patron deity is Baervan Wildwanderer, who has charged them with the protection of nature. The gnomes, who love said nature dearly, are incredibly grateful to the deity for entrusting them with this.

Childhood is a time to run wild and do as you like under the careful, but unobtrusive observation of one's elders, and children usually learn the ropes of adulthood simply by observing their parents.

The age of majority in forest gnome culture is 20 years old.

As with all gnomes, forest gnomes have a love for gemstones and enjoy crafting with them. Forstneblin jewellery often features motifs depicting the beauty of the natural world.

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Rock Gnomes Despite not having an official name, we do have the pattern for the names of gnomish subraces, and the word for "rocks." I would hazard a guess it's Cammarneblin, though obviously that's a headcanon. Rock gnomes are associated with diamonds, and favour those sacred stones in their craftswork.

Their homes tend to be underground, in "burrows." If they live in a human city, they'll usually buy a house and start extending the basement (or make one, if none is available). Human cities with a significant gnome population may end up with some kind of underground warrens populated by the gnome community.

They live for 350-500 years, and stand between 3' - 3'6" tall. Rock gnome children have hair that can be any range of colour, including the ones seen on humans, or any other colour on the light spectrum - however their hair will begin to turn white or grey once they reach adulthood. Their skin comes in any shade of brown, although they don't tan or pale.

Rock gnomes are the most commonly encountered gnomes, and the ones you'll find in human cities (although the vast majority of them have no interest in living there).

Their culture places great emphasis on the importance of the journey over the destination. It's the learning and the joy of creation that makes things like jewelling, and gem cutting, and alchemy, and magic, and inventing so wonderful, not whatever the end product is - although it's certainly nice if that product is beneficial. Life itself is one big journey, and it is to be enjoyed as much as possible. Play is just as important as work, and if those can be the same thing then that's all the better.

As with their forest cousins, children are given free reign to explore the world at their own pace. While all young rock gnomes are expected to learn basic self-defence, and a useful trade, they're also encouraged to dabble and experiment until they find something that suits them. Youths are given a long time to explore what the world has to offer, and what they want from it, and rock gnomes aren't socially considered adults until they're 40. And then there's a party.

There is always a party. Rock gnomes do not need such silly things as reasons for parties, though a flimsy excuse can probably be found somewhere, if required. Said parties are wild, out of control, and may last for tendays. Part of the reason for that is that the rest of the time is spent working for tendays on end, and after stepping away from the workbench or the mine, working out what month it is and getting the cricks out of one's neck, what one really needs is clearly to blow off some steam.

Rock gnome religious philosophy holds that life and the world at large is a puzzle, meant for solving. The greatest joy lies in the study of that puzzle and the onward march of science.

While they hold great affection for their gods, attend services regularly, and often talk about them in daily conversation, they don't tend to be religious as a culture. To a rock gnome, the gods are present and reachable everywhere and always, and specific buildings and pomp and ceremony are just toys to wave around.

Prone to inquisitiveness and a highly sociable society (overly so by some people's standards), a common trait rock gnomes are infamous for is that They. Do Not. Shut Up. Ever.

They get along best with dwarves, who share their love of craft and creation; and halflings, who they share similarities like a love of a simpler life, home and family, and a good time. The fact that the Big Folk tend to literally and figuratively look down their noses at all three of them doesn't hurt either.

They are infamously bad cooks (rock gnome cuisine is either too bland or too salty), but their alcohol is considered excellent. They also make rock candy. Between their skill as brewers, their love of fun, and the dedication gnome musicians have to their crafts, gnomes are the best guests or hosts you can have for a good time. You are, however, entirely to blame for whatever shenanigans happen if you get drunk with them.

They're also the inventors of the firearm (gunnes), and the only people who've mastered their use. It is in fact common to find a rock gnome bearing a pistol.

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Deep Gnomes The the shortest lived of the gnomes, with an average lifespan of up to 260 years. They stand between 3' - 3'6" tall, and tend towards a scrawny frame, sometimes described as "gnarled". They look like they're made of bone and sinew, although said sinew is actually a significant amount of muscle mass and deep gnomes are heavier than they look (average; 45lbs). Their skin takes on tones of earth and rock; brown, grey or brown-grey. AMAB svirfneblin do not grow hair on their scalps, and AFAB gnomes grow stringy dark grey hair (which may be dark enough to seem black). Likewise their eyes are dark grey to black.

According to legend, the deep gnomes were born of rubies, and prize those best.

The reality of survival in the Underdark means that deep gnomes are far more reserved and practical than their cousins. Their society functions on strict male and female gender roles, with each work force answering to the King and Queen respectively. The men make up the miners and the armies, and are responsible for expanding city limits, trade, and other vocations that require leaving their carefully hidden homes. The women take on the roles of maintaining their settlement and society; the water and food, fishing and farming, city services and maintenance, crafting, raising and educating the children, etc. Women rule inside the city, and men outside of it. It is possible to find svirfneblin outside of these roles, but it is very rare.

Their governments are monarchies, with the monarchs being advised by a council of elders. The monarchs are elected from amongst the city (anybody is eligible, but status within the community plays a large part), and rule only by the consensus of their people - deep gnome communities must be able to trust each other and cooperate to survive so deep into the earth, there is no room for selfish tyrants. Everybody has their place and their role, and everybody does it so that all may live. Kings and Queens are not necessarily married, though it is possible for a married couple to both be elected or for a governing pair to get married on the job. Regardless, these are simply jobs, and no relationship between the two is inherently involved.

Despite their practicality and apparent sullenness, the deep gnomes do not lack for creativity. They love gemstones and take joy in working with them to create art as much as any gnome; it's for the sake of their craft and the gems that they came to and remain in the Underdark.

Each svirfneblin settlement is unique in its design - featuring anything from smooth rectangular cuts to undulating waves and curves in artistic places. Their cities are well fortified fortresses, built near mineral veins. Homes are carved into the walls of the cavern, consisting of a series of small rooms with windows overlooking the city. The rich gnomes live in hollowed out stalagmites. Cities are much larger than the homes of other gnomes, often hosting over a thousand residents. As light and heat could give away their location, the deep gnomes simply don't use any such thing. They navigate purely by darkvision, and their world exists only in greyscale. On that same note, sound also carries, so these civilisations tend to be eerily quiet compared to what one expects from a lived in settlement.

Deep gnomes don't bother with keeping history or tracking the passage of time. The closest they get are two holy days; the Festival of the Star in winter, and the Festival of the Ruby in summer. The festivals celebrate the svirfneblin ancestral ties to the surface world, as well as their descent into and continued survival in the Underdark.

Naturally, they don't trust their Underdark neighbours, not any outsider really. The common practice of slavery disgusts them, and they would rather not deal with any society that partakes in it. Nevertheless, they are willing to engage in careful trade when required for survival, and Underdark trade being dominated by the drow, interactions with the dark elven merchant clans are a necessary evil. Surfacers tend to assume that svirfneblin are the "evil counterparts" to surface gnomes - as duergar to dwarves, or drow to elves - and respond to them with similar hostility and violence. Even if they're not assumed to be evil, deep gnomes are so used to being on guard for danger from strangers that they're sullen and suspicious of anyone they don't know, and many people write them off as rude and miserable.

Amongst themselves, deep gnomes tend to be warm and affectionate, and they're fully willing to adopt friends into this circle once they've proven safe to trust. When one of the community betrays their neighbours they will be brought before the monarch and council - whether it's the king and male advisors who presides over the proceedings, or the queen with her female advisors, depends on if the crime took place outside or inside the city. Rehabilitation of the offender is preferred, and punishments escalate in severity from shunning, to incarceration, banishment or execution. If banishment is the punishment then the exile will be armed and given supplies in the hope that they won't die. If the offender is deemed a security risk then banishment will not be considered.

Svirfneblin children are treasured and doted upon. Once they start puberty they will begin their apprenticeship, and at about 20 they will be considered an adult. There is no celebration or any note of the occasion; you know you're an adult when you graduate and start working. There is no retirement age, you work until you die. Gnomes live with their parents until they get married, at which point they'll move out.

Their lives aren't devoid of joy - the priesthoods are responsible for morale, and often declare an impromptu holiday when they feel the people need cheering up. Clerics of Segojan Earthcaller, god of the deep earth and the dead, also take on the task of caring for the elderly.

Deep gnomes tend to come across many lost, ancient magical artefacts in their excavations, and cities tend to preserve these treasures.

Their books tend to be crafted from lizard-skin and bioengineered fungi cultivated for the purpose. Svirfneblin fashion tends to sport a lot of gems and jewellery. Due to the lack of fire, they don't tend to cook. Fungi, raw fish and rothé meat all feature heavily in their diet, and most outsiders find their cuisine unbearably salty. They have two unique beverages; a unique, nameless brew made from fermented fish, and Gogondy which is a crimson wine made of... something, and apparently includes crushed rubies amongst the ingredients. Drinking it is said to induce visions, and is likely to knock you out after a few mouthfuls.

[wisdomrays]

QUESTIONS & ANSWERS: What is the Primordial Covenant?: Part 2

Are there any rational proofs that the covenant really took place?

Some issues that are difficult to explain by reason. Yet the possibility of such things can be mentioned. In fact, we cannot object to what God has affirmed.

Essentially, the Almighty speaks to His creations in many ways. We also use different ways and styles when communicating with others. Apart from words, we have various outer and inner faculties, sentiments and perceptions, mind and soul. Sometimes we speak to ourselves in words audible only to our hearts and minds. Such speech is not utterance, but pertains to the soul or self. At times, we communicate with others using these non-verbal methods.

At times we speak, hear, and listen to conversations in our dreams. But those who are awake and nearby hear nothing. After waking up, we tell them what we spoke and heard. So this is another mode of speech.

Some awake people can see the pictures or tablets shown to them from the World of Ideas and speak to its inhabitants. Materialists do not believe in such things, and may refer to them as hallucinations. It does not matter; let them say so... But we know that one of Prophet Muhammad's distinctions was that he was granted vision of the such tablets, pictures from the World of Ideas and from other worlds, and that he conveyed to humanity what he saw, heard, and understood. So this is another mode of speech.

Revelation to the Prophets is yet another. We know that the Prophet was fully awake and conscious when the Revelation came. Sometimes he would be lying on the ground with his head on his wife's knee, sitting and leaning against a Companion's shoulders, while his knee was touching the knee of the Companion sitting next to him, or among a group of people. At such times, he felt, received, and experienced the revelation with its full weight, and conveyed the Divine message in its entirety. Those in his presence realized, from what they could see, that the Prophet was receiving Revelation, although they could not hear it. They could "hear" and understand it only after he communicated it to them verbally. It was as if the dimensions were different.

Another way of speaking is Divine inspiration. God inspires saints, and influences, imparts, or dictates something into their hearts in such a way that they can deduce something. When they guess, or speak or act, God makes them do or say just the right thing by His mercy. So this is yet another mode of speech.

Another way of communication from heart to heart, and from mind to mind, is telepathy. This method is defined as sending thoughts or messages to another person's mind by extrasensory means. Many scientists have studied this phenomenon in the hope of benefiting from it. The atheistic and materialist Soviet regime did sustained work on telepathy, no doubt in the hope of gaining a military advantage.

Based on the above, it is clear that God created numerous, perhaps unlimited, modes of speech and communication.

Returning to the question of "Am I not your Lord?" in the primordial covenant, we do not know how God asked this question. If it took the form of Divine inspiration to saints, it would not be correct to expect some kind of audible voice. If it was a question asked of the soul, certainly it would not resemble a question asked of the body or flesh—or vice versa.

The crucial point here is that if we attempt to evaluate what they see, hear, or experience in other realms with worldly criteria and measures, we will end up in error. A hadith states that the angels Munkar and Nakir interrogate the dead in their graves. So, to whom or what do they direct their quesitons? But whether they question the soul or the body, the result is the same. Though the dead hear the questions, others buried nearby and living passers-by cannot hear them. Even the most sophisticated modern listening devices placed in or near the grave will not detect anything, for it takes place in a different dimension. Some scientists have claimed that there are many more dimensions than just the three that are familiar to us. As place, context, and dimensions change, the mode of interrogation and communication must change and assume an appropriate form.

As the primordial covenant is between God and our soul, we cannot expect to feel and retain the influence of that instant in any physical way. Rather, we should expect it to be reflected in our conscience, as only our conscience and the inspirations that come to it can sense such a thing. Once, while I was talking about this issue, someone told me that he did not feel that question and answer of the covenant in himself. I replied: "Not feeling it is a difficulty for you. Try to solve it."

As for me, I felt it and remember quite well that I did so. If I am asked how I feel it, I say that it is by my desire for eternity, and by my infinite desire despite my limited, transitory existence. Essentially, I cannot know and comprehend God because I am limited. How can I comprehend the Unlimited, the Infinite, the Everlasting, the Absolute, the Almighty? But because of my endless desire and enthusiasm for the Infinite and Eternal, I realize that I feel it. I aspire to infinity and eternity, even though I am a tiny creature in a limited world in a limited universe; one destined to live for a while and then die; one whose range of views and opinions are expected to be fixed, confined, and narrow. Despite this I yearn for Paradise, the Vision of God, and the Divine Beauty. If I owned the whole world, my anxieties and griefs would still torment me. Because I have such aspirations, I say: "I felt it."

Our conscience, with all its subfaculties and sections, always tries to remain attached to God and never lies. If you give it what it requires, it can attain peace and tranquillity. That is why the Qur'an points out that our heart, which is a subtle inner faculty, can attain peace only if the conscience can attain it: For without doubt in the remembrance of God do hearts find satisfaction (13:28).

Such philosophers as Bergson, leaving all rational and traditional proofs aside, argue that the conscience proves God's existence. The German philosopher Kant said: "I felt the need to leave behind all the books I read in order to believe in God." Bergson refers to his "intuition," and his only proof is his conscience.

Yes, one's conscience is in agony if it rejects God, for it can find ease and satisfaction only through belief in God. If we really listen to what our conscience is saying, we will feel the desire for the Eternal and Abiding God. This feeling, perception, or quality is equivalent to the response of: "Yes, we bear witness thereto" to the question: "Am I not your Lord?" expressed silently within the human conscience. If we pay close attention, we can hear this voice, which wells up from the depths of our souls. To look for it in our mind or body is futile, for it already exists, latent and inherent, in every human conscience. However, it can prove its existence only on its own terms. Only those close to the state of the Prophets and saints, and who follow their ways, can see it clearly and make others see it.

Such matters cannot be proven in the manner of a simple, physical existent like a tree. However, those who listen to their conscience, who turn their gaze inward and observe what happens there, will see, hear, and know the primordial covenant between us and our Maker.

[shy-magpie]

RQG 157

these things get long and are by definition one spoiler after another, so live blog under the cut

pre episode nonsense:

My hopes for this episode are mostly just the obvious: For Zolf to pull out of his spiral; for Azu to talk to someone about how she's doing; for Hamid to find his footing with the Kobolds (loving that they are devoting a proper arc to using unearned privilege/power rather than pretending it doesn't exist); more Cel lore; a Wug; and for someone to shake answers out of the Brorb. Not sure Alex is going to let us get to know the kids individually which makes sense as juggling 7 new NPCs would seriously cut into everyone else's screen time. I think we will get more of Skraak & Hamid working through their issues, and Skraak's helping the kids through recovery. If we are very lucky maybe Zolf & Skraak will talk rather than just have Zolf resent the Kobolds for putting Hamid in a place to fall into old habits. Okay lets hit play!

Episode live blogging:

Intros are quick: Zolf sounds low, Ben sounds higher energy than he was.

Oh the Brorb drawings come better when the other half is distracted but not thinking about the real topic.

Krakens are through out the globe, unknown numbers, not true instances of Shoin, network is down.

Cel and I both react to having Shoin be the one to come closest to a truly non physical form.*

Krakens are cloned brains in robot bodies. Specifically said Daleks not Jurassic Park.

Shoin thinks he sent a ransom note using the Kraken as a threat against the world.

Does not handle it well when Zolf hones in on that no one knows who he is, much less trembles at his name.**

Hamid follows Zolf's lead and twists it towards boasting about beating the Infection. The talking half doesn't seem to know how he did it as clearly as the drawing bit. Unfortunately its strictly surgical which would be hard to reproduce at scale even before you consider the side effects.

Quick huddle with the rest of the team:

Cel always wanted to go to London?

Zolf wants to ask more about how the infection works so they could prevent infection. Wilde thinks he is suggesting using Shoin's solution, I get Alex has to catch people up but I don't like Wilde being a paragraph behind me or underestimating Zolf.

Bryn wants to review the diary. Alex confirms the diary says he had a possible  way to "end it" as a whole.

They go back and Cel feigns being extremely impressed that Shoin might have a way to stop the infection. I think having time to regroup cut him off from his memory of the infection again. Alex spells out Shoin loses coherence whenever they bring up the infection/the time period around when he was infected.

Heal check time. Zolf crit fails. Azu got a 29 and can see where his theory was better than his surgery. It may be an aphasia (issues to with communication. can't get to certain words, some can't be spoken even if he understands the concept; others he can't understand if he hears them even if he uses the word/concept himself. Brain trauma, memory problems more severe the more recent you get, sounds like unable to store short term memory properly so anything longer ago than a week but after surgery likely lost.)

Cel switches to the simulacrum. He verbally dismisses it as a waste of time. His hand keeps drawing based on the previous question re:stopping the infection.

Alex calls for a sense motive. Zolf & Azu see the latest drawing is a landscape using technical notation. Its a barren mine. Yes! it's the entrance to Svalbard. Cel can see its a circuit. Alex makes us/Lydia wait until after he's done with the simulacrum stuff.

Shoin thinks using humans as your base design to improve from is the wrong approach, gives some credit to Francois Henri for taking a different approach.

The circuit maybe to transmit something, it needs an organic component. Cel couldn't roll much better then that so they probably need to kick it towards the Harlequins to set a team on.

Shoin is moaning about paying the bills. Took on the contract to provide Simulacrum fluidics to Damascus for the money.

Drawings change shape get less technical and focus on the cavern entrance. Ben catches it sounds yonic, Alex was trying to not go there but did he really think you could go from cave imagery to seed imagry without stopping there?

Hamid tries to get more on how he caught the infection.

Bryn and Alex spell out that to get answers you ask a real question he won't answer verbally but will answer with his hand, with a decoy to keep the talking him distracted while the hand answers.

Decoy question is about Harrison Campell.

Concept drawing of a person, overwhelmed by an image of a huge figure with lines going from the small to the large? Is he suggesting they plant someone they prepare to be infected, and have them infect it back?

Proofs? Minor changes between the proofs and published version of early Campbell books.

Another review session upstairs. Hamid's red string wall got cited as being useful! Cult of Hades/Wellington may have been the one to hire Shoin to make parts for Damascus. Zolf and Hamid talk briefly, about work and as dry "stick to the subject" as possible but they are talking productively.

Oh Ben finally gets in that the interrogation is hard on Zolf's knees because he has to keep his legs out of the cell. He snaps a little at Cel when they comment on cell vs Cel. Carter suggests "naughty box" which nicely derails that point of tension. Cel refers to Shoin as being more pleasant to talk to than Carter. Not sure if that undermines the tiny Cel/Carter ship or fuels it with tension.

Cel asks who hired Shoin to make Sim parts. He can answer directly. Well directly for him, it seems to be mostly justifying stealing Tesla's work on the basis that Tesla wasn't going to implement his theory. Hamid snipes him with a shot praising Edison to get him back on topic. Shoin says Edison was being backed by a big investor. Is it to much to hope this is Alex finally consolidating the factions? If Hades is Edison's investor (leaving Edison & co as effectively their minions, rather than a faction of their own) and the factory owners we can cut down on sides considerably.

He goes on about how he spied on Henri, religion as money maker. Shoin was directly approached by Hades lot. Shoin made sure his bits won't work since he didn't want competition. Wellington was his contact with Hades. Wellington always had a pair of cloaked figures.  Vinegar + squizard = funny? Could be useful.

Do not follow what is going on with the hand.

Shoin is still unstuck in time and thinks he is going to connect them. Cel unplugs the speaker on his villain speech. Cel induces a dream state by powering him down

~break~

Cel suggests  painlessly killing him. Zolf seconds the idea because its immoral to keep him like that.   Hamid points out the longer the keep him around the more likely it is for someone to be infected. Wilde rules they should kill and seal it off.

Cel & Zolf have an argument about having the Kobolds handle the remains. Cel calls Zolf out on his inconstant stance on whether the Kobolds can be infected because if he doesn't believe that then he is risking them.

Wilde is moving on? Cel suggests letting the Brorb die, putting it in a bag of holding, keeping the bag in the anti magic field.

They can't just call Einstein because using unofficial channels is bad when irregular behavior is a sign of infection(?)

Alex's unhealthy attitudes about productivity are called out when he refers to the time Wilde spends thinking/planning before getting their transport arranged as "working" (with the inverted commas) rather than considering it part of the work.

They work out possible paths if teleporting is off the table.

And the boys are snapping at each other again. Zolf, you can't flip out every time you are reminded that Hamid doesn't have the experience or expertise of a seasoned sailor. Yeah you did leave the team without your skills and maybe the kid was a bit green for a field promotion; but you know what? He did a fine job, and the other choices were Sasha, who wouldn't lead, and Bertie, who shouldn't. Just because stepping down was the right thing to do, doesn't mean you get to lose it when you are confronted with the mere allusion to the idea it had consequences.

Barnes tells Hamid why going over the pole is a really bad idea. That Azu's suggestion is carrying Hamid has troubling symbolism.

Zolf actually comes more or less to Hamid's defense by pointing out that all their options are bad options, so having a go at Hamid's idea in particular is unwarranted.

I'm not going to bother listing out options. They will pick one or won't need to pick one. If we have been a very good fandom Alex may reward us with Earhart coming back as their preferred transport.

There we go, Hamid suggests her, Zolf seizes on the idea compliments Hamid on it, and immediately takes it to Wilde. Thank God he isn't so far down he can't do that. If he isn't compulsively shooting down any hope (especially from Hamid) then he really is on the upswing from the low brought on by quarantine stress.

Lydia isn't happy that there isn't going to be an American chapter. Then again we wrote off Svalbard, so don't give up!

Its the Northwest Passage and its so weird realizing that not everyone has it as a cultural reference. Wonder if it's an Oregon thing or a US thing.

Yes it would have been cool, but I think Alex is not going to let us have cool new story arcs when we haven't played with the ones we have at home.

Einstein and Earhart are our two best transport options. I am a happy fan. Especially if Zolf has to use his family and Earhart’s reaching out to him near the end of the journey to appeal to her. I mean we did get more on Zolf's relationship with his family than I expected after Paris, so I'm not going to sulk if they don't pursue this, but it would be nice.

Conflicted as a fan, its hard to remember that this taking months extra is a bad thing when the end of the series is feeling too close for comfort.

Zolf, look at you leveraging your experience with moving even when things feel hopeless!

Cel I love you, kraken as submarine is brilliant. Air kraken is suggested by Carter.

Hamid plays with the ideas while Alex goes "why?". Because you are going to have to work a hell of a lot harder than that if you want Hamid to see it as a no win situation rather than proof he needs to redouble on cheerful creativity. Feeling like he had no options led to the worst parts of Hamid's life, the things he is truly ashamed of; having few losses outside of those, he is going to make Kirk's Kobayashi Maru hang ups look amateur.

Zolf is heading to the beach.

Cel is checking on their village.

Hamid wants to contact Einstein himself, Zolf says he should talk to Wilde about that. Hamid wants Zolf with him for that meeting. Zolf either doesn't want to be a safety blanket, wants Hamid to get used to dealing with Wilde directly, or completely missed Hamid offering a chance to work together because he is incapable of seeing Wilde as an opponent. He does say some nice things about being a team.

Hamid tells Cel to say hi to Jasper for them. He is good at the people side of leadership. Remembering names and relationships, knowing how to show he cares because it's important to Cel without overstepping. If Zolf can learn to let go of the rank stuff, they could be an unbeatable team of co leaders.

Zolf nods at Azu. Azu smiles proudly back. Alex jokes about not liking giving them time to heal because they coordinate.

Hamid offers hugs to both Cel and Zolf. Because this entire character is a "fuck you" to toxic masculinity and he is not afraid to openly show affection to his friends.

Cel gives him a great hug.

Zolf hesitates but gives him a pat on the shoulder. Hamid's has high enough charisma to make that not awkward. Good kid, accepting that Zolf is reaching out as far as he can.

Hamid talks to Skraak. Hamid is worried about taking the kids. Maybe Skraak can convince them to stay & help Jasper with science. Because RQG loves us and wants us to be happy, they are considering a fantasy some of us harbored since "science" as a serious possibility. Could solve the issue with Alex not wanting the kids to take up too much screen time too. Skraak is the perfect character for Hamid to have as his second. He believes in Hamid, and can be confided in, but isn't going to take an ounce of self pity or bullshit.

Alex that village better be okay. Smoke? Controlled burn. Ben lightens the mood. The tank is still guarding the village. The barricade is up but they are guarding about as well as a village of level 0(1?) characters can be expected to.

They are having a party and there is a bon fire. Because Alex knows we wouldn't have trusted him if there wasn't a little scare with the smoke. !puns

The village is visibly healing since the weather is fixed. They thank Cel but know better than to ask.

Jasper! Jasper is looking good. He stepped in as a leader of the village. Cel and I could burst with pride. Jasper thinks Cel is coming to stay, Cel tries to explain they are going to help save the other villages around the world and mentions that Jasper would like the Kobolds.

!puns

* One day I need to hunt down the right corner of SF because there has got to be a decent amount of trans humanist fiction for trans humans out there somewhere.

**Not sure if I should feel bad for hoping this gives him a safe target for his destructive tendencies. Ideally Zolf would get past that point without indulging his dark side lest he reinforce bad coping mechanisms. Ideally Zolf would have weekly therapy without the fate of the world on his shoulders too. Its the more personal version of looking forward to a fight after Hamid's been stressed because he seems to find cooking baddies cathartic.

[beloved-judged]

The inexpressible

This is going to be a bit... fragmented.

I should say, up front, that one of my degrees is an MFA--poetry and creative non-fiction. I have a license to poet, to be abstract and playful with language, and training in recognizing the internal structure of meaning as it is presented in language use.

I also took an absolute ass load of rhetoric courses, eventually taking Greek coursework (in addition to the mandatory Latin) in order to read the texts left us by various rhetors and their historians side-by-side with their translations.

I do language. It’s a different brain than I use on the daily in programming (and in fact, they’re oppositional for some subsets of use), but I’ve proved to the satisfaction of an academic committee that I can language just fine, even convincingly.

A confluence of events today: my papa releasing a blizzard of podcasts in the last two days, re-reading Snow Crash, and a bunch of random events have lead me to spend the last few days contemplating language.

It’s going to be here because it applies to the things my papa has been talking about.

When you choose to speak, take for granted you have already lost a lot of meaning--to render a situation into language is to make decisions about what it is, how it is, and how others may understand it, all of which are bound to your individual understanding (as well as whatever social rules, ideas, etc you have absorbed, because we’re not islands.) To make those decisions is to decide what is important and relevant, what others may understand, and what you want others to understand.

And to make those decisions is to decide not just what’s included, but what is omitted. This starts the second words come into play and before it, in the language we are inculcated with.

The latest podcast my papa released is a parable about one of the founding fathers of Sufism, which I will spoil and say the moral of the story is that the presence of someone who has achieved enlightenment is just as important as any attention they might give you (and in some cases, to not give attention at all, so as not to feed the ego.)

The presence, without language--to exist within eyesight and hearing, without direct interaction.

In Snow Crash, the author plays with an old, old dichotomy: religions of the book (that is, legalistic religions which base their principles on a written text which is required to take a form which does not permit as much individual interpretation) versus cultic religions, in which enlightenment is achieved through individual experience and is not subject to being ruled or shaped by the contents of a text.

Christianity is, at best, a mixed bag by that criteria, but tends toward a religion of the book rather than a cultic religion--as it is practiced in many places, it has elements of personal enlightenment, but is checked (at least in theory) against the text of the Bible, which is considered the authority on what it is and means to be a Christian. Again, in theory. This may not be true of individual Christian groups, churches, or Christians and it does not matter if it is true. Christianity bases itself on the Bible as a general rule.

A religion of a central text, against which all things are (supposed to be) checked.

One of the most haunting reads in my rhetorical studies was The Phadreus--a dialog on the nature of rhetoric (the art of persuasion). In the book, which is arranged as a long dialog, Socrates is talking to Phadreus about the nature of language, persuasion, and what makes a good versus a bad rhetor. There is a whole section where he talks about the relationship between writing and speech in rhetoric, remarking that he does not trust writing to do what it is supposed to do (to serve as an aid to memory, to make the idea immortal). He remarks that to read and write a thing is inadequate to produce experts, and that expertise requires something more in terms of experience and inspiration.

Or to put it a slightly different way: you might be able to write down instructions on how to do a complex thing, but the instructions by themselves are not going to make someone capable of performing the task well.

And, as he remarked, all too often when we commit something to writing, we promptly cease to make the effort to remember it--remembering becomes a problem of the medium we write in.

We wrote it down, now it’s the paper’s job to remember it.

This can, as he points out in The Phadreus and elsewhere in the texts produced by Plato during that period, lead to the state where people can take their speech--that is, the things produced from their mouth--and treat it as if it does not belong to them, as if, because they are quoting, they no longer ‘own’ the words they speak, and thus are not bound to the consequence of them.

You can see an awful lot of this in white, academic, and main cultures: if I’m quoting someone else, it’s not my fault. If I am sufficiently careful to quote, I can get away with saying all kinds of things and have a reasonable expectation that I won’t be held accountable for it.

In primarily oral cultures, as a quick side note and by contrast, what you say (the promises you make) is a profound reflection of you as a person, and you will be held accountable for it. Everything that comes out of your mouth, you own, and there is no shield of ‘just quoting’ or ‘just saying’ to save you from suffering the consequences of your speech.

Magic, where it concerns speech, often appears to me to inherit from that understanding of the word. That which issues out of your mouth is a spike, affixing you to consequence, that you cannot wriggle out of.

Trusting in the written word also, as Socrates points out, tends to lead to the state where the writer thinks they have been clear, and the reader thinks they have understood, but neither are right: the written word does not lend itself to clarity, but to deceptive equivocation. The appearance of clarity, but only if both parties do not think deeply or ask much of the interaction, and part of the inability of the book to produce experts has to do with the absence of expertise and inspiration to enforce clarity.

I find that is much on my mind--where we find clarity. I have about twenty years of training in academia, in finding clarity in books. I would be hard-pressed to count how many books I’ve read, even by genre. It is where my mind is ... comfortable. A confluence of training and natural inclinations.

The experts with whom I might study to understand rhetoric, say, are dead and dust in the ground, in some cases for thousands of years. They cannot be present with me, and while there are plenty of modern scholars with whom I might study, I am unlikely to ever have the chance to do so.

There is something tied to presence, something which governs learning. In Snow Crash, which is very much propaganda for literate societies, the idea that there is a pre-verbal experience of understanding or something that defies the ability to be verbalized within literature structures, is a virus analogous to herpes: something that represents an invader of the ordered, literate body, which subverts it and irreparably harms the health of the body and the mind.

Without the book to govern thought, all is madness, and those who are trained in specific kinds of literacy (in the case of Snow Crash, technical literacy) are susceptible to a madness which burns out their ability to think and their identity, their ability to appear rational to the literate society around them. They become as individualized as an insect, which is to say that they have no individual identity.

That is where I am going--to that non-verbal place. It’s a thought that fills me with anxiety, but also with relief. I cannot touch rationality but to notice irrationality in it, the vital absences which compose the underpinning of rationality, both in language and in concept.

Language is a slippery bastard.

Vodou is a cult, by the definition of the majority religion (Christianity), and by definition in general, in that it has no centralized authority (no pope), no central dogma (a Bible, say), and relies on individual experience with the divine (in possession, inspiration, or through witnessing a possession.) It is also a community-driven religion: mutual support, mutual aid, mutual living. It has authority figures (the priests), but the authority structure is very localized. A priest is the priest for his or her temple, not for every vodouizant everywhere. Authority is recognized, but not universal.

Atop that, it is also very much an oral culture: you are absolutely responsible for your words.

In my experiences with possession so far, both partial (someone else was using my body and I could witness but not interfere) and complete (black out), it has been a place where all my literacy, all my rationality (and I used to teach logic), all the things I would call my identity, were pointless. Either gently but firmly pushed aside, or gone altogether with the rest of me. And I have never, in my experience of being partially possessed, spoken.

Moved? Sure. Expressed something? Yes. Performed feats? Yep.

Fully possessed, however, I’m told my body has done a lot of speaking.

But the literate qualities of myself, the parts writing this entry, were either absent or entirely beside the point. It is not an easy thing to flirt with the destruction of these parts of myself. It’s deeply, deeply discomforting to recognize that where I am going, I am not. Where I am going, all that I am now will be beside the point.

Existential panic, I think, is about right.

What am I, without language? What remains in those spaces?

I cannot enjoy the wine of oblivion without reaping it--I cannot enter the waters of the void in meditation and not expect to have to perform the work necessary to come back and swim it.

What words, what shapes, what law is written on me in such places?

I hope the lwa will forgive me for being afraid.

The more I see of what I will be losing, the more... frightening the cost becomes. The fear of becoming a babbling adept, the fear of losing my ability to appear rational in rational society, the loss of those years building expertise.

The loss of myself, those endlessly reflecting mirrors of structure so painstakingly cultivated, and I know my papa would say “no, not yourself. What you think you are” but it is not entirely comforting.

And if I lose this, this speaking self writing these words...

And if I lose...

I struggle at this price. Does it seem dramatic? Only because this is the bastion I have spent my life defending against the attacks of family, colleagues, and a world determined to tell me that women cannot be rational.

I have been beaten for knowledge. Repeatedly. For daring to ask questions. I have been forcibly excised from academia, because I could not find enough support to defend myself against harassment. I have given up relationships and exposed myself to constant, crippling criticism and the many cruelties of people who found my presence intolerable. I have given up meals, a bed under my head, clothes, love, children, and the acquisition of wealth to know. There has been no easy path to knowledge for me, no family poised to encourage and protect, no social matrix to provide support.

This is the next price I will have to pay. Just a pound of flesh from nearest my heart.

What will be left of me, this babbling self ironic in the drive to cage in language what ultimately dissolves it?

I do not know if I can pay it. I can only... make myself try because I will keep my word.

And because anything else will never be enough.

My love, my love, the crown of my soul, papa, patron, master--you scare me.

[okimargarvez]

DIFFERENT

Original title: Different.

Prompt: post 12x5 ending scene.

Warning: none.

Genre: funny, family, romantic.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, BAU team, Roxy.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 61 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💑😘🔦🎵.

Song mentioned: Primavera non è più, Tiziano Ferro.

GARVEZ STORIES

DIFFERENT

 As it happened on previous occasions, Luke notices her first. He enjoys the moment, spying her in secret staying at the entrance. She has changed her clothes, now she wears one of the same color, green (she didn't even know that it is his favorite one, damn it!), much more low-cut and of a shade that recalls the reflections of emeralds. The loose hair on the (naked) shoulders, smooth but still rebellious. He sighs and finally starts to reach her. -Hey- he rejoices internally in seeing her jump with fright; he doesn’t completely hide the grimace that appears on his lips. Penelope just looks at him badly. - You don't even greet me?- he sits in the seat next to hers, despite they are all free. She rolls her eyes, annoyed. -Do you remember that you promised to be nicer to me?- he asks her, leaning towards her.

-I didn't promise anything!- she suddenly blurts, her cheeks red. Her exaggerated reaction makes him laugh, the first of many times, the man guesses. -Anyway, if you care so much...- she closes her eyes and when she opens them again, she's another person. -Hey!- she exclaims, smiling with so much heat to leave him dizzy, the features of the face soft, the shining pupils, the mouth so inviting, to hurts. -It’s okay in this way?- she asks, returning to being the Garcia that willy-nilly stole his mind and heart.

Luke struggles to stop laughing. -It's perfect.- he comments, giving her a wink, like that time. He looks around, racking his brains in search of something smart to say. No way. The brain doesn’t want to cooperate. -The others haven't arrived yet?- the blonde shakes her head, sighing. -It means that we are alone...- he realizes that the sentence has come out even more ambiguous and alluring than he would have liked, too... real, realistic, sincere. -Unless your Canadian boyfriend is hiding somewhere.- he adds then, pretending to look under the table.

Penelope laugh softly. -Still with this story?- she crosses his gaze for a few seconds. -No, we are alone, unfortunately.- she couldn’t help but emphasize it. She even shudders theatrically, snatching yet another grimace with a lot of laughter. - The not-Canadian boyfriend existed, but he took off.- she tells, without knowing why. The usual damn sporadic verbal diarrhea.

She still gets the effect of completely turning off the man's desire to laugh. -Oh.- she doesn't notice, but he widens his eyes for a few moments. -I... I'm sorry.- he stutters, uncertain, not feeling completely sincere, rather... selfishly happy at the idea that she's single as he had suggested.

Generously, she frees him from all those thoughts at once. -Thank you, but you're not credible.- Luke blushes in a way, to say the least, shameful; she caught him, what it's the point to be one of the best in undercover missions, if he can't even hide a bit of genuine (though wrong) sense of joy to his more naive colleague? Like for the time when he had abruptly discovered that Garcia's parents had died, he decides to get out of the melancholic moment by provoking her with a joke, rather than becoming entrenched in sad speeches or justifying himself.

He allows just a second to pass. -Tell the truth, you hoped I would change my mind and not come.- he looks at her in passing, but when she looks up at his eyes, she can't keep their from chaining. There is something different this time though. Maybe it's just because it's the first time they are alone without a case or a job. Maybe it's because of the relaxed atmosphere of the place.

Penelope dramatically shakes her head, making (according to him, on purpose) dance her hair around the exposed areas of skin. That skin so clear, milky, decidedly Swedish, though she didn't want to confirm it. -No, we agree that you pay everything, tonight.- she reminds him, letting a smile bend her lips in a carefree way and suddenly rejuvenating at least ten years. -New guy.- she adds, after an effect pause. He seems to still like the appellation, because a grimace appears on his freshly shaven face. After all, she is famous in the Bureau for her creative pet names, even if for now she had only called him once tall dark and blandsome, and he didn't know if he could consider it in that mean. He, on the other hand... he did more: chica; queen of ice; queen of moderation.

Realizing that she is still staring at him, he forces himself to respond with the first nonsense came to his mind. -Well, you decided everything- he holds up her challenge look -however ok, it's fine for me.- he shrugs, barely hiding a smile. -What are you up to, miss?- he leans a little towards her, winking, in a flirtatious tone; but he still seems to be in the gray area, up to where he is allowed without finding out too much about his cards.

Penelope chuckles, trying to chase away the stupid information from her mind (a man who offers you a drink wants to flirt with you; but it can't be valid in this case either, since she practically obliged him by force). -I think it would be right to wait for the rest of the gang.- she replies in a tone that is too sad for her standards.

Luke nods, slightly sorry. -Mmm, how generous you are.- she returns his gaze, challenging him to say otherwise. -In addition to the queen of moderation, the queen of ice... sorry, I meant of the nice...- he voluntarily corrects himself late, to fully enjoy her annoyed expression -you want even the crown of the most generous one?- she smiles at him, but this time as mischievous as him.

She extends a hand, like looking for a phantom glass. -You better to learn it.- she lets her eyes wander everywhere, except than towards him. Around them we hear the classic confusion of locals, confused voices, speeches about nothing. The silence of their table seems even heavier, in contrast. -So...- she begins, unable to endure the situation any longer. -Did Roxy like her gifts?- he can't help noticing the new change of tone and expression when she talks about his dog.

He laughs out loud, licking his palate with his tongue. -Why don't you come to my house, to verify it in person?- the question comes out of his mouth before he has a way to stop it. -At the end of the evening, I mean.- the specification doesn’t seem to lighten the atmosphere, on the contrary. It doesn't look like a joke or a prank at all. It certainly doesn't help that Luke stares at her like that, as if he was undressing her, but not just of clothes. Penelope looks terrified, she doesn't answer for a while.

In the end, she decides to venture almost as much as he does. -Alvez, you know it looked like you wanted to...- but she has taken too long. Before she can finish the sentence (even if Luke senses the continuation anyway) a part of the team appears behind them.

JJ places a hand on her friend's shoulder, causing her the second heart attack of the evening (if Luke's almost invitation is not counted). -What a surprise!- she exclaims, but looking towards the man. -Garcia, did you manage to convince Luke to join us? Congratulations.- but in the gaze of the multi-mom blonde there is something strange, different; it's like she's trying to communicate something to her without using words. It reminds her... one day very far back in time, a day that hadn't been very beautiful, even if liberating: when she had shot Battle and then she had pointed out that there was a person who stared at her.

Her reaction, however, is quite different. Lost, she looks at Rossi, seeking the support of the oldest, but he doesn’t comment. So, she makes a long sigh. -Now that you're here, we can start with the round of orders.- finally, she can looks at him without feeling that veil of embarrassment. With others, she's safe. -The new guy pays, right?- she winks, eyes blazing.

Luke looks at her for a few moments before nodding. -I agree.- he just says. The two are too busy looking to seize a different exchange of glances between their colleagues. After receiving an affirmative nod, the blonde reaches her best friend again.

-Garcia, would you accompany me to the bathroom?- not without difficulty Penelope interrupts eye contact with the new guy. She stands up, still confused and quite bewildered. It is as if each time she consumed an enormous amount of energy, only not to yield first in the challenge of looks. -Then? Is there any news?- asks JJ, stopping in the corridor that leads to both services.

The other woman begins to sense her real intentions, but once again uses the mask of naive. -What are you referring to?- wasted effort, with her.

-Well, you and Luke alone...- she means more with those blue eyes than with words.

-What would you suggest?- she instantly assumes a defensive attitude, a decidedly wrong choice, but she is not good at these things, to masker her feelings. Even if she doesn't have any kind of feeling towards the new guy. If she can’t consider annoying, but she doesn’t know if she can consider it like a feeling. -It is your fault that I had to endure him all this time alone.- she reproaches her, getting only a laugh in return.

-Oh, come on, it's not so bad.- she doesn't know if she only refers to him temperamentally or physically, but she prefers not to think of him, Alvez, as a man made of flesh and blood: how could she not then dwell on those scandalously perfect muscles, shoulders that seem to be made on purpose so that she can fit her chin, a chest suitable to hold her tight, and that slightly wavy hair… No, she has absolutely no feelings for Alvez; physical attraction is not a feeling, right?

Maybe it's because of all those damn thoughts that she blushes like a teenager caught by his parents while he is doing inappropriate things with his girlfriend. -I know, I know, but...- damn, JJ also reads her mind this time.

-I miss him too, ok?- neither of them chooses to mention that name explicitly. So maybe it hurts less. -You did the same thing with Blake when she took Emily's place.- she reminds her. Penelope feels a pang of remorse. She had been really bitchy with Alex and had masked it badly. -Just that you only held up for one case. Her first.- she points out, catching her sad expression. In fact, the friend was right: she hadn’t been able to carry on that insipid "hatred" towards Dr. Blake and a beautiful friendship was born. -What's different this time?- she almost bursts out laughing in her face, but it would have been a bitter laugh. If only she knew how many times she has asked the same question to herself, without finding a real solution to the riddle.

Feeling overwhelmed by too many different emotions, she succumbs. -He, JJ, he is the one who is different.- again, different. That single adjective should be enough to explain everything. Luke (damn, she shouldn't call him by name, not even in her mind) is not just different from Alex as a male exponent; it's also different from... Morgan. If outwardly the two might seem to belong to the same company (that of the high school students), as far as the content is concerned, they are extremely... different. Penelope is willing to bet that Luke is not even a bit aware of his charm, not as much as Derek. And there is not only this. Both carry demons inside themselves (although about one she knows their names and surnames and about the other only a few hints), but one hides it far better, with a playful attitude, the other... doesn’t even make an effort. He doesn’t flaunt it, yet it is all there, inside his eyes.

-Damn, you like him, don't you?- JJ's question abruptly brings her back into the present. She has no time to conceal anything. -Oh yes, you really have a big crush.- she comments. Penelope understands that before this the friend had only a vague suspicion. She doesn't even have the strength to curse herself. Indeed, she feels even better.

But this doesn’t mean that she will admit it easily, without at least making an attempt to deny it. -Who, me? No!- she is not even technically lying, because she is quite convinced that her problem is far more serious than a stupid and simple crush. -Only that he is so... different from how I had expected. The way I had imagined him.- she tries to correct the shot, but now the damage is done.

-Have you fantasized about the new guy? Come on, quiet, I'm kidding you.- she strokes her arm. But Penelope doesn’t laugh at all.

-He does the same too, all the time. It's so annoying!- yes, but not only annoying, otherwise it would be much easier. He is also extremely stimulating. He went to touch areas left uncovered by Derek and others she didn't even know she owned.

-When Morgan did it, however, you liked to get that kind of attention.- the friend teases her, catching more than the other verbally said.

-With... with Derek was...- she stutters. JJ smiles, before concluding her friend’s sentence.

-...different?- here, again that word.

She takes a step away. -Really, JJ, why are you tormenting me? You won't have made a bet.- she squints her eyes, looking at her suspiciously. The other blonde performs in one of her most innocent and pure expressions.

-We? No.- JJ is certainly more adept at lying, she also had to learn to negotiate with criminals, but when it comes to her best friend, she just can't do it. -And even if there were a bet, I would never participate, you know.- Penelope smiles, nodding.

-Sure.- then, something snaps inside her. She approaches her again. -Can you blame me, anyway? I know you are a married woman, but if you were free... wouldn't you even think about it? I mean...- she forces herself to do it -...he's so fucking attractive. It's a fact, isn't it?- JJ, once the surprise for the admission is over, laughs.

-Well, yes, he's undeniably a handsome man, but it's not really my type.- she replies.

-Then I'm even in worse situation than I thought.- she sighs. -Can we return to the table now?- the friend doesn’t let this opportunity slip away either.

-You miss him, don’t you?- she winks as they walk.

-Yes, I miss my Margarita.- she replies, deciding that she has already confessed too much. - Since that I won't pay...-

At the same time, just a few meters away...

Prentiss sent a message, warning that she will arrive a little late, because maybe Mark manages to get to the airport first and naturally she can't wait to see him again. Spencer preferred to stay at home to think about how to resolve the situation with the clinic and his mother. Tara is on the way to the place. The founder of the BAU and the newcomer are the only ones at the table. -Luke, kid, do you know how to play pool?- the first one asks, a few seconds after the two women have left.

The younger one shrugs. -I’m good.- but his ultra-honest and catholic mind reproaches him for the half-lie: the pure truth is that it is a total inept.

Rossi stands up and puts his hand on his colleague's chair. -Do you want to play?- he asks then, looking at him from top to bottom, something that Luke is not used to.

-Now?- uncertain, his head turns exactly where Garcia has disappeared, there is not even need to think about it, his body proceeds with autopilot.

-Yes, now.- confirms the Italian-American. The other follows him without asking for more (apart from those questions that never stop rolling inside of him). After taking the necessary items from the counter, they settle on the sides of one of the few empty billiard tables. It's full of people tonight. Maybe it's always like this, for him it's the first time. A lot of girls. But none like her. She is... different. -So, you made progress?- Rossi asks, as he passes the chalk on the tip of his pool cue, like a true expert. Luke sighs, ready for defeat.

-In what ambit?- he answers with another question, really unaware of the implications. Rossi, makes a perfect shot, accurately sinking the ball he had aimed at and declared. He is preparing to perform the second, which goes less good than the first.

-With the BAU ray of sunshine.- the elderly then promptly replies. Luke errs completely, feeling that periphrasis he immediately associates with one of their colleagues. -You understand who I mean.- he adds, not happy, watching one of his balls enter the hole. It went well that Luke didn't break through the table. Perhaps it was a little unfair of him to say this at that very moment.

-Yes... no.- he corrects himself promptly, still blushing. So, he decides to play the diplomatic card. -I don't get the reason of this question...- and he pretends to focus completely on his opponent's next move.

-Ah, blessed youth.- Rossi comments, trying various positions, up to choose the best one. -Luke, tell me, do you consider me a foolish old man?- the prosecution sends him even more into crisis. He drops the cue, producing a loud noise.

-No, no, I never...- he denies strongly, as he did just a few hours before with Garcia, when she believed he didn't like one of her gifts. He sighs. All roads lead him to her, in his mind.

-Well.- the elder colleague replies. -So maybe you think I’m blind, but it happens that my eyes still work very well.- this time Luke understands that his intention is not to put him on the stand. He wants to get somewhere, but he still can't figure out where.

-I'm glad...- he replies then, looking, with petrified gaze to say the least, his ball brushing the black cursed one, and not his announced target. He sighs with relief when he sees it stop just after.

Rossi approaches him and despite being slightly lower, he seems to dominate him. -And I noticed the way you look at her.- Luke's cheeks turn to a new shade of red. He feels like he is on fire, but the flames are also burning in his chest.

-The way...- he repeats partially, before shaking his head. -No, no, I'm just trying to get along.- beautiful definition, no doubt about it. Above all, very creative. -To have a peaceful working environment.- he virtually slaps himself. -She doesn't make it easy for me.- he ventures to add, hoping to get at least some advice from the most expert (certainly more than him, not that much effort is needed) in terms of relationships (not necessarily amorous, even if he added it automatically in his own mind).

Rossi chuckles, making him move away with a glance to better aim. Even this shot, elegant as a dance step, hits the mark. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why women are attracted of him? -I don't know how you got all those commendations for undercover missions, because you really, you are a terrible liar.- he comments, looking at him in passing while the balls (two! Of which one he had announced) go into the right hole.

The young Latin American prefers to pull first and then respond. -Not like when I playing billiards.- he tries to sound nice, funny, but fail miserably. Perhaps the fact is that working undercover for him is like acting in a theater: it's about wearing clothes that aren't his, and if he plays the role of a ruthless trafficker, he doesn't have to worry about the troubles given by his true personality. He would have already conquered Penelope, in the guise of another. But she wouldn't have been really his.

It will be that he has known him for a little longer than the others of the BAU; will be that he has practically seen him grow, given that he has an excellent relationship with the Alvez family; will be that he followed his path inside the Bureau and was apprehensive as he risked blowing up on a mine in Iraq... Rossi reads all the despair and melancholy inside him and knows perfectly well that their challenge has nothing to do with this. -Listen, I'm not here to force you to examine your feelings for Garcia, okay?- no, force him not, but push him warmly to look inward, maybe this, yes. -But I just want you to be aware of what she means for the team and for our family.- yes, because there was really a need to emphasize it. Their light, the glue, what keeps them healthy. -Of which you are now part.- he adds with a certain severity, knowing perfectly that otherwise he will not believe him. Luke has always had problems trusting, stabilizing, that's why he changed so many teams and roles. But the BAU is different from the other teams. He hopes he's starting to understand that too. -Clear?- he asks, highlighting everything with a determined look.

Agent Alvez hastens to nod. -Yes, but I would never hurt her.- he hits the ball without much conviction. -I can't even think of it.- and how can he hurt her if she doesn't care about him? But he doesn’t say this part aloud. Both look at the trajectory of his sphere. It stops a few inches from the hole. He's already improving.

Rossi gives him a paternal pat on the back. -I know, but you're never too sure.- Luke sighs so loudly that the other can hear him despite the noise. Out of the corner of his eye he sees that Emily has finally arrived (without her boyfriend) and the other two girls are back at the table. Tara is still missing.

-Rossi...- he calls him, diverting him from his thoughts.

He turns to the young man, who sees almost like a son. -Yes?- and he instantly understands how his part of fatigue has yielded the hoped-for results. Luke is now destroyed, surrendered. He no longer has the strength to fight. He almost feels guilty, wondering how gone JJ’ attempt.

After a pause that seems to last a year, he decides to ask the question that he cares. -Do you think she noticed too? I mean... is it so obvious?- even the former man hunter casts a glance at their colleagues and his eyes can't help but glisten when they linger on the curvy blonde.

The game is officially interrupted for reasons to force majeure. -If I know my kitten as much as I do, and I assure you that it is so... no.- immediate relief on Agent Alvez's face, too soon replaced by something else. Because in this way he will continue to not know. And it will also be safer, but it is exhausting. -No matter how explicitly you can undress her with your eyes or flirt with her, she will never think you can like her seriously.- he avoids defending himself from the accusation, because it would be ridiculous and it would serve only to make him more embarrassed.

Instead, he dwells on another argument he particularly cares about, and which he never had the courage to investigate, despite the... curiosity. -It's Morgan's fault, isn't it? I have heard rumors about them.- the whole Bureau knew their story, relationship, or how they want to call it. Baby girl, chocolate thunder, princess and even worse. -Was there ever anything serious between them?- he trembles (he only hopes internally) while waiting for the response.

Rossi spreads his arms, remembering that time when he had joking about Garcia and Morgan who secretly conceived the son of love. -For what I know not, and I would be willing to bet.- despite he did some thoughts about them too. -Luke, don't make the mistake of comparing yourself to Derek.- instantly he catches his deeply sad look. -I mean that each of you is different. And the way you two flirt... maybe I'm too old for this talk...- but he forces himself to go on. -I’m saying, her attitude with you is different from what she had with Morgan.- a few ounces of hope spreads in Luke’ chest. -Of course, they flirted all the time, even after he got engaged, even when she was with Kevin...- he hastens to stop him, -Don't look at me like that, I won't tell you about her previous relationships, not now.- he must and can’t help but think of that time he had found the computer technician Lynch in a bathrobe, and the speech he had made to get permission to attend Penelope. -Garcia flirts with everyone. She even tried with Hotch.- at this last statement, he chuckles. Luke instead remains serious.

-You see it? I'm not special.- but he wants Rossi to tell him exactly the opposite.

In front of such a childish reaction, the oldest bursts out. -Dammit, of course you are!- he bangs his fist on the palm of his hand. -Because no one has ever answered her the way you do. She and Derek were traveling on parallel lines, their flirtation was by now affectionate even when of spicy content.- it is so absurd to talk about the people he loves in this way. -While the two of you... yours is an fair fight. And if she didn't like it as much as you, well, you can be sure that she would have forced you to stop.- although he will continue to do so, his kitten certainly needs that nobody defenses her. She has sharp nails when she wants.

Luke convulsively squeezes the pool stick. -Rossi, this is your twisted way of telling me that you think she likes me?- he decides to go straight to the point, or fears he will never get out of this limbo. And time is running out and he still hasn't had a chance to enjoy the show of her while she is sipping one of her cocktails.

-Oh, holy carbonara, yes!- the exclamation tears a laugh even to the youngest, or perhaps it is because of his much annoyed expression. -But she is afraid that you may leave, as so many before you did.- he explains. -Are you sure you are studying the profiling manual?- now he looks a lot like his father.

Luke forces himself to assume a mature tone. -Yes, and I'm finding it very interesting, but... I can't apply those techniques to her.- he opens his arms, challenging him to blame him. The other chooses to be generous.

-Hu, love, it quirks even the best minds.- the newcomer chooses not to correct him, even if love is a word that has always made his bowels tremble. -Luckily I'm out of it.- Luke looks towards Penelope, so beautiful while talking with the other girls. He sighs, bracing himself.

-Shall we finish the game?-

 When they return to the table, they notice that someone else has arrived.

-Then, who won?- Emily asks, moving to make room for Rossi.

-Judging the facial expressions, the lowered shoulders and a certain sad look, I would say with a good percentage of security that...- another man, the youngest of the whole group, answers instead of the two challengers.

-Spence!- his best friend scolds him, limiting herself to a dirty look.

Luke, still standing, chuckles at the scene. Men and women can be friends and JJ and Reid are living proof; but a strong physical attraction must be missing, there must be another type of chemical reaction between the two elements. -It doesn't matter, he's right.- he looks at everyone except where she is. -The scepter remains in the hands of his current owner. For now.- he adds, as if he believed he had even the slightest hope of beat him. Not even in twenty years. Penelope laughs at his joke and he can't help but be attracted by the sound of her laughter. He notice that his place (the one next to her) is remained empty, as if they had done it on purpose. He occupies it, feeling his legs soft like jelly. -Have you ordered anything yet?- he asks, just to get her attention. She nods, bewitching him again with the dance of her blonde hair. How much he would like to wrap it around his fingers while pushing her head against his own, deepening a kiss... it is not the case to think about these things. Luckily, the tables are not transparent.

-Sure. This is my second Margarita.- she answers, raising an empty glass. Luke realizes that there is another of the same size and features right in front of her. -And I was just going to take something else...- her expression seems to wink, but this time the man doesn't understand the direction of her thoughts.

He tries to stay focused only on the present and not be crushed by the din in his mind. -I thought you said you don't drink more than two cocktails...- he doesn't do very well; it doesn't sound like a provocation or a playful admonition.

Penelope shrugs. -Well, tomorrow is a day of rest and I don't have to drive...- she promptly answers the question that appears on his face. -I thought you told me that you would accompany me, after, to greet Roxy...- which quickly turns into pure upheaval and perhaps also... fear. But it will be her impression, it's JJ's fault and all her silly speeches. -I'm kidding! I'll get a taxi.- she concludes.

Luke, however, unexpectedly doesn’t let the thing fall, which no longer seems to be one of their innocent teasing (if ever they were been innocent). -No, no...- it seems to her that he just looks at Rossi, as if looking for approval; the elder nods imperceptibly. -I'm glad to give you a ride.- the previous day she accused him of being a liar (even though he had almost moved her with the attempt to lie to her so as not to hurt her by revealing that she had been wrong with peanut butter cookies). This time, however, she only reads sincerity in his eyes. It seems like mirrored in the clear waters of a river.

The others pretend to continue their speeches, so as not to embarrass them excessively. -Really?- she asks anyway, because she needs to hear him speak again. Damn it, his voice.

She imagines that now he will take advantage of it to free himself from this uncomfortable situation. Instead he nods. -Yes.- just then the other drinks arrive. Luke notes that she ordered a Mimosa. All chat quietly. The atmosphere is relaxed, but he struggles to concentrate on words and even on his (first and only) beer, which has now lost all the freshness of the fridge. The way she grasps the orange slice, delicately, almost as if it were something extremely precious; the way she approaches it to her lips, slowly, not even aware of having two eyes on her (or maybe yes); how she sucks the liquid without producing any kind of annoying or vulgar sound. And how she finally carries the edge of the glass to her mouth, swallowing the first sip. And while she does so, she looks specifically for his gaze. Both think the same thing. Here is his Judgy McJudgerson look. But if only she knew what he was really thinking... he didn't think that she can understand it, not more than when she was sober. He doesn't think these cocktails will make her drunk. And he doesn't want her drunken.

An hour passes. Penelope strategically sips her drink, Luke is much less polite, though he tries to get involved in the argument between Rossi and Spencer about the best baseball player ever. The old founder of the BAU bases his theory mainly on affection (that is, how much he is in the hearts of his fans); the little boy prefers to rely on cold statistics. Tara and Prentiss discuss transfers and complicated relationships (he seems to understand that the first was promised to a bastard who broken up with her because he was jealous of the time she spent with serial killers sentenced to life imprisonment, but he could be wrong, since half of the his brain is occupied by a single name, always the same).

At one point, JJ stands up, breaking the harmony. -It's late, I must go.- she looks just a nanosecond at Rossi. She is soon imitated by the brunette.

-Me too. Mark doesn't like Quantico very much.- she shrugs. -I hope to make him change his mind, so that I will be able to come back more often to see you all.- and maybe she even starts thinking about a transfer. She loves London, it is definitely the city in line with her character and her way of understanding life, but... her real family is here, in the gray Virginia. -Tara, if you want I can offer you a lift.- the other brunette immediately accepts, without protesting, even if it was all already planned previously.

Spencer, after a glance from the older man, looks in an exaggeratedly constructed way at the clock behind them. -Actually, it's really late. My mother can call, or the clinic...- Luke hasn't even understand the reason why he changed his mind, reaching them, not that he was sorry for this.

-There must be something different in the air.- feeling that adjective they both bounce and glimpse at each other, for such a short time that neither can be certain that it actually happened. -And you know what?- he stands up after the last sip of his bourbon. Definitely in his style. -I'm leaving too. I can trust you to leave you alone, you won't kill each other, right?- Luke laughs, while Penelope feigns offense.

-Very fun.- she comments, hugging him too.

The Latin exchanges a vigorous grip and a last look with him. -I can promise only for myself... Ouch!- the blonde gives him a nudge, actually very light. Despite the presence of layers of fabric, that contact has electrified him.

Rossi shakes his head at the evidence of the chemistry between them. -Good night, and, Luke, drive carefully.- he even winks at him. They are really alone again, even though the place is still very crowded. It's not even midnight. Penelope looks at the last drops of her Mimosa.

-Is it my impression or are they all strange tonight?- she comments, allowing herself to cross his brown but almost transparent eyes.

-I don't know.- he replies promptly. -You know them better than me.- she replies nothing. -So... how long do you want to stay?- he doesn’t want to give her the impression that he wants to run away, that he wouldn’t be happy to spend the whole evening (and even the later) in her company.

Penelope, however, doesn’t appear to be annoyed or interested in discussing. She raises the glass again. Luke notices a slight smear of lipstick on it. -Just let me finish my Mimosa.- it's an acceptable request, but she doesn't know how many trips to the confessional will cost him this simple gesture. Great stuff, being Catholic.

He takes a breath, as if he is about to dive into murky waters. He forces himself not to observe her while she is taking the last fatal sip. Before he exposes himself, he is seized by a sort of vision, accompanied by unknown words, which he must have already heard somewhere, in music. In front of a cappuccino you taste its foam and vaguely erotic with my eyes, I taste you, and I resume unquestionable tastes that you have lost, sweet, sour, naive were my bites... and how many errors accumulated without ever understanding that to taste better you must savor... slowly... gradually... with the mind... slightly... starting from the outside... to leave... in the end... Penelope sipping that hot drink (perhaps to fight against the alcohol she has ingested) and her mischievous eyes that look at him beyond of the cup. Her eyes are the only thing he can focus on. They are the center of his universe. But her malice is different, it's like... as if the two of them were playing uncovered cards and she was just raising the stakes a little.

-I don't want to rush you, but I was thinking we could... go for a walk with Roxy.- thankfully she's finished drinking, otherwise she would have choked. She thinks of what JJ has suggested to her. Is her crush on the new guy really reciprocated? Isn't just that they both don't like losing?

She decides to let herself be carried away by the events. No, it's not the two Margaritas and the Mimosa who are talking. If it had been wine (red, then) then it would been another matter. -A night walk?- as usual, Luke seems to like her choice of words. -Do you do it often?- they stand up, each wearing their own jacket.

-Well, when I come back from the cases. It helps me to get rid of memories... of what we've seen.- usually he hates to open up on personal issues, show his weaknesses... why not with her? Because with her everything must be different, every rule that he has always respected without problems, go to hell? Penelope upsets all his schemes.

-Oh.- she has caught exactly all the implications. But she hasn't given an answer yet. When they are in front of the door, she realizes it. -Ok.- she says then. He lets her go first and overtakes her to keep her car door open too. -But what a gentleman.- she comments, and there is not only teasing, but also complacency and... -I would almost need a push, to get on board of this thing.- already, to call it a car is not very appropriate. It's kind of a van. And it matches perfectly with his boots. She sees his shadow reappear behind her as she gasps.

-You just have to ask.- he whispers, his voice sounds strange, almost not even his, hoarse, as he pushes her, holding her just above her hips, with determination and at the same time delicacy, to hoist her on board. Both are trying to ignore electric shocks. Luke goes around the truck, looks at the mirror in place, fastens the belt and puts it in gear. But then he sees her expression reflected... not really sad, but almost. -Hey, what have you got? Have you changed your mind?- he expects it, so he believes he can handle it well.

-No, it's just... I guess I'm not suitably dressed.- he breathes a huge sigh of relief, entering the night traffic.

-Quiet, we will just take a stroll in the park near my house.- she observes with admiration his meticulousness and precision. -No running. I promise.- he couldn’t be aware of her adversity towards physical activity; he couldn’t possibly know of that time that Derek had made Spencer and her believe that they had to pass a terrible test to continue being eligible to work with the BAU. He couldn’t, could he? The rest of the journey is spent in almost silence, dominated by the engine and the soft sounds coming from the old-fashioned radio. Both think back to what they discussed with colleagues. Then slow down and park. This time he doesn’t have time to open the door for her; Penelope jumps down with elegance, heading for the building and as soon as she locates Luke's apartment, she almost runs for real.

He is struggling to keep up with her, despite those heels... and perhaps not only because of the panorama she unknowingly gives him. He forces himself to keep his eyes above her shoulders. -Hey, slow down.- he catches up with his breath.

She seems to have become another person. -Sorry, but I can't wait to see that hairball.- she claps her hands and jumps, excited, happy and making no attempt to mask her joy. The man puts the key in the lock, but looks at her intently before starting to turn it.

-I told you that you would like her.- he reminds her, brushing her hand with his arm.

She doesn't even give him that victory. -You've had luck, newbie.- he nods, laughing.

-Hey, Rox.- he calls. The dog doesn’t wait, running with the same frenzy as the blonde, who lowers to be able to exchange cuddles with her.

-My love!- she chirps. Luke bites his lip until it almost bleeds. Needless to specify what he has thought. -Are you glad we're going for a walk, all three of us together?- the animal replies, licking away the last remnants of makeup from her face.

Luke chuckles, struggling to look away from the show that he would never get tired of seeing. -Just give me a minute.- she nods, taking advantage of it to look around, as the everlasting nosey she has always been. -What is it?- he asks her, arriving at her shoulders and making her jump (it is already the third time in a few hours, the second because of him). -I know what you're thinking.- he ventures, when their eyes cross.

Penelope gives voice to his theory. -It's just as empty as your desk.- Luke nods, not seeing the sense of arguing about this. Not yet, at least. And like my life, he just adds into his mind. Perhaps there is a greater reason why he has always been so minimalist. He has so few things. Maybe he was just waiting for another person to fill him up. -Shall we go?- he asks her, after having put on the bib with the writing FBI to Roxy. They go out into the open air and she stiffens, because her legs are too exposed, but she doesn't protest.

-It is so strange and exciting to see the world at night.- she comments, when they have now reached the entrance to the park. She whispers, not to disturb those who are sleeping. Her always thinking about the rest of the world moves him. -All this peace, this silence.- he doesn’t believe that her choice of words is random. He doesn't even think she's one that is spending hours thinking about how to arrange sentences. No, she is spontaneous, natural, but what she says is not arbitrary. It is an indication of something. And he decided to investigate this something.

Slow down until he stops, letting Roxy free. If he didn't trust her completely, he would never do it. He can't stand the idea of losing her. -No, it's not as quiet as you think.- he stops completely, turning to her and coming closer. The light from the street lamps is dim and makes her hair look even brighter, her skin clearer and more unreal. - Listen better.- a cloud of condensation caused by the man's breath caresses her neck. -If you concentrate you can hear the rustling of the wind in the leaves, the peeping of many types of birds, even a few frogs.- even if the only thing he can hear is her breath and her heart, which both have increased the pace. -It's no longer quiet, it's just... different.- they both vibrate when he utters that word. He leans even more toward her. They are just shadows in the park, yet he manages to capture every detail. -If you listen even more carefully, you may feel the beating of my heart about to come out of my chest.- Penelope opens her mouth, dark, cracked, without lipstick. They stare at each other for eternity or maybe just for a few seconds. A red cardinal is heard, but they completely ignore him.

Then, the image resumes scrolling at normal speed. -I can't hear it.- she stutters, trembles, not just from the coolness of the air. -It is covered by mine.- they smile at each other, enjoying the awareness of what is about to happen, savoring those last moments of uncertainty, but not willing to postpone this moment yet. Luke bends over, Penelope gets up on her toes. Their lips meet exactly in half. His arms leave to surround her waist and push her against his body, giving her the warmth she lost; her hands rise up to rest at the base of his neck and stay there.

When they separate, there is no fear that the other may try to deny, run away, destroy everything. Against something so epic, there is no excuse. Penelope rests her head on his chest (yes, it's big enough for her) and Luke holds her in a half hug. -Are you sure you're not drunk?- he teases her gently, while he is stroking her hair. He was fucking right. She is as soft as he had assumed. Her scent closely risks becoming a drug.

-No.- she denies. -Even if I felt your Judgy McJuderson look on me the whole time.- he laughs, a little too strong for the time, but his reproachful look causes a roar of laughter on the part of both.

-I plead guilty.- he says. But later, maybe even another day, he will explain to her what his gaze means. That is she who puts him at the stake, and not vice versa.

-So, I was right.- Luke doesn't feel up to taking this joy away from her.

-Can you blame me?- Penelope shakes her head, lifting and stroking his cheek in a way so sweet and intimate, to make him feel instantly at home, safe, as in the family. He is the one trembling as they exchange another series of kisses, shorter as they are more eager. - Do you want me to take you home?- he asks her in a decidedly more panting tone and hoping for a negative answer. He feels his dog's nose, to be precise, her cold nose, rubbing on his free hand.

-Yes, better.- she replies however. -It is really nice to kiss you in the lights of the street lamps, but I think it's going to rain.- in fact the sky became cloudy and gray. There is no longer even a visible star and even the moon is about to give up. -And Roxy is annoyed by this unscheduled break.- he watches her caress the animal, who moans with pleasure.

Dog and owner are in the same boat. -She'll have to get used to it, won't she?- she nods, and sees him as scared as she is. He doesn’t have access to certain information, he cannot know that she too has problems with cohabitation, marriage, commit. But it is as if he read it in her face. -And anyway they say that there is nothing more romantic than kissing in the rain.- a first rumble seems to make him echo.

Penelope meets his gaze. -Are you a romantic man, Luke?- right, they know almost nothing about each other, they've known each other for too little time. But they know the essential things.

He caresses her cheekbones, her lips, her chin with his thumbs, then goes up to her ears, almost making her moan. It is not possible that he managed to find one of her key points so quickly. -I'd like to find out with you.- and he also says the right thing. The one she always dreamed of and didn't arrive on time.

She holds him against her, not because she needs his warmth. Well, not just for this, at least. -Good answer.- she has finally gave him the joy of her approval. Then she returns with her nose upwards. -In any case we will have other opportunities to find out.- Luke puts the leash on Roxy and runs with her, while the first drops begin to fall. -I mean both things.-

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[iamshadow21]

How can we help people with disabilities? For example, autistic people who see the world differently.*

* This question was posted on another social media site. What follows is my answer. 1) Treat us as people, not as less. An adult or an older child being talked to in a baby voice is not on, regardless of how their disability presents. Talk to us at age appropriate level. If we're interested in something, get excited about it with us, rather than telling us we're boring. Sharing our interest is our way of trying to communicate. We love a thing. We're opening up ourselves to you. It might not be how you're used to doing a conversation, but it is meaningful communication, and it means we want to share that excitement with you. That's a big deal. Recognise it. 2) Our diagnosis is none of your business, unless we feel comfortable talking to you about it. It's really none of your business if we were diagnosed as a kid, an adult, self-diagnosed, or questioning. It's none of your business if our autism has changed its presentation as we've aged. It's really none of your business if you think you know what autism looks like, and we don't match up with your preconceptions. And please, if we're verbal, dressed appropriately, out in public and unattended, it's not a compliment to tell us how well we're doing. We're just as autistic when we're 'passing' as when we really aren't. Passing for normal is not an achievement, it's a monumental effort that most of us feel long term health effects from if we have to do it daily. Allowing natural autistic behaviours is something a lot of us have to relearn in adulthood to manage our anxiety. An adult flapping, pacing, tapping, or playing with a stim toy isn't being babyish or playing at autism, they're trying to take care of themselves. Don't stare or tut or tell us we're embarrassing you. (Telling us our Tangle is awesome and you want one is totally okay, though.) 3) Our sex life is none of your business, unless we're in a sexual relationship with you. Just because we're autistic doesn't mean we can't consent. That said, if there's someone being weird and intimate with us when we're a minor and they're in a position of authority, make sure we're okay. Compliance based therapies heavily used with autistic children (like ABA) make autistic children very vulnerable to sexual abuse, because they teach children to do things that are uncomfortable, painful or unnatural to them to please adults for rewards. 4) Make a conscious choice to be okay with difference, be it physical, intellectual, neurological, whatever. This might be harder than it sounds. Disability can come with mobility needs, sensory needs, dietary needs and routine based needs. It might require communication devices or sign language, or a picture-based communication system, even if to you, the person 'seems' verbal. It's rare for an autistic person to have no difficulties with verbal communication, and if you've only ever seen them happy or relaxed, you might not know they need to use their phone to communicate when they're upset or overwhelmed. Also, non verbal autistics might have a couple of words, scripted speech, or echolalic phrases they can use when conditions are right, even though they primarily use AAC or sign. Verbal ability isn't a fixed thing. It fluctuates. Be patient if we're struggling. It's more frustrating for us than for you. 5) Everyone's disability is unique. No two autistic people are the same. Likes, dislikes, sensitivities, strengths, difficulties. An autistic person might be sensory seeking, non verbal, highly intelligent, low anxiety, highly organised. They might be highly verbal, high anxiety, low executive function, mild intellectual disability, dyslexic, supertaster. They could have any combination of interests and personality traits, and come combined with a whole array of other disabilities. Don't think because you know one autistic person, you know every autistic person. We're individuals. 6) Listen to us, not to Autism Speaks or 'autism moms'. Our experience is unique to us. It cannot be fully understood by a neurotypical bystander, regardless of how close that relationship is. Read books by autistic people (there are a lot). Donate to the Autistic Self Advocacy Network or Autistic Women & Nonbinary Network. Don't light it up blue, put puzzle pieces on your car, or spread anti-vax rhetoric (which is fake science and basically hinges on the fact that a lot of people would rather have dead kids than autistic ones). Watch documentaries produced by autistic people about their experiences. Check out neurowonderful's Youtube series Ask An Autistic. 7) Don't assume we're straight. Don't assume we're cisgender. Don't assume we don't understand the complexities of our multifaceted identities. Gender and sexuality variance is present in autistic people, just as it is in neurotypical people. In fact, there's actually evidence there is a higher proportion of transgender, nonbinary and genderqueer people in the autistic community than in the genpop. Our experience of sexuality and gender is also viewed through our lens of autistic experience, and there are terms created specifically by autistic people to encapsulate this (like gendervague). 8) Don't assume we can't have relationships, friendships, and families outside of our parents and siblings. Don't assume we can't be awesome parents. Don't assume we can't make informed choices about our bodies and procreation. Autistic people have been here as long as people have been here. I'm from a multigenerational family myself, with both male and female autistic people, stretching back at least five generations, anecdotally (further than that, highly probably, but we don't have the information). 9) Don't think we'd be better off dead. This is why adults and children are murdered by parents and caregivers every year without legal repercussions. Our lives have value. The next time you see a news article where a parent cries about killing their child, don't rationalise that 'it must be so hard' to be taking care of us. That's essentially saying we're responsible for our own murder, and that it was justifiable homicide. MURDER IS MURDER. If you want to campaign for better respite and support in your area, GREAT, but don't give parents who murder their children a free pass. Parenting is hard, but people have a choice, and we must stop allowing people who make the choice to kill to get away with murder. Whenever it happens, someone else, somewhere, thinks murder is an appropriate solution to the problem of a disabled person needing care in their life, and another irreplaceable, unique person dies. 10) We have the right to exist in public spaces. Yes, that autistic person having a meltdown might be disrupting your shopping and hurting your ears. I can guarantee their life is harder than yours right then. Have some compassion (not pity) and give them some space. We have the right to be in restaurants, in theatres, in libraries and in schools. If you think a person with a disability being in those spaces is going to have a negative effect on your children, maybe you should think about your parenting, rather than about segregation.

[toddykun]

toddy, what do you think of donald and scrooge relationship in this episode???

oh anon, you just asked THAT question to my overanalyzing ass lmao thank u so much, i will indulge in this without restrictions ggg

little summary of donald and scrooge’s relationship in the episode: #TeamUncleForTheWin2k18 in a—more literal sense than expected. this gonna  be a looooooooooooooooooooong post anon, so hold yourself. and take into account that this is my opinion and my interpretation so i could be right or wrong, we just dont know, so that :D

all those scrooge and donald’s bonding moments were wholesome and funny (i loved them with all my freaking heart is2g they having a better relationship is my fuel to keep living lmao) but there is still some things that are hanging on even after scrooge definition of family that is obviously about them so lets start

1. scrooge choosing donald immediately and ‘i was in the will?’ moment

after going awwww when scrooge excitedly goes around screaming game night and he immediately chooses donald and laughing my ass off because donald’s ‘i was in the will?’ line, all that got me thinking because i cant stop my overanalyzing ass lmao. why did scrooge choose donald and why was donald surprised to be in the will? the overcompetitive nature of scrooge answered the first one really fast, scrooge chose him, as always, because it benefits him for reasons, reinforced by the threat of them losing and removing him of the will, more than because he wanted them to bond over board games. this is actually not that weird for scrooge, he usually does this a lot, especially to donald. i actually have problems with this more because of the actual status of their relationship more than because scrooge did this, this will be explained with the next point so i will go with my second question.

why was donald surprised? there are two possible answers for this: 1. donald didnt ever really thought about the will matter, the theme is new to him so hes surprised 2. donald didn’t think scrooge cared enough for him to be in the will so hes surprised when he actually is. i will be expanding in the second one because donald could have thought various things from this: 

1. he could have thought that because of scrooge’s greedy nature, the possibility of him having a will was nonexisting, he wouldn’t want his fortune to be someone else’s even after death, even when real scrooge would consider that a waste, the possibility of anyone being in scrooge’s will is a big ‘wait what’ to him 2. his board is the one getting everything lmao theyre the ones handling all those business stuff and that whats matter to scrooge, so why would anyone else be in the will? 3. if someone from the family was meant to be scrooge’s heir, it wouldnt be him, it would be only della, the twin that scrooge favored the most. definitely not him, the twin that scrooge reprimanded and dismissed the most. him? in the will? wtf? scrooge couldn’t care enough about him to put him in the will. but he does and whoa, wait what i am???? donald didn’t think scrooge would care, and that makes sense, this scrooge is terrible at really showing donald he cares about him outside from fighting and using him as bait. so, donald is surprised.

the good thing is, i actually see this version of scrooge having everyone in his will: the twins, the triplets (especially louie, hes probably his principal heir at this point lmao), webby, mrs beakley, launchpad, matilda (if shes alive), his parents (who are kind of immortal now?) even gladstone, fethry or grandma duck (if shes alive). leaving them all a special thing that would help them in some way, something with meaning for every person. especially to the twins, who are like his children. another good thing, scrooge is starting to show donald that he cares, enough to put him in the will and i hope this progress in scrooge showing him that he cares about him more than he actually shows him.

bonus: scrooge running stairs down with donald was precious and funny. 10/10. not bad, scrooge was just so excited. so cute.

2. ‘that’s why he chose him’, charades and non-verbal communication, understanding donald, and acting nonsensical moment.

‘ooooh, thats why he picked donald’, dewey just confirmed my suspicions about scrooge’s motivation for choosing donald, it saddens me but i expected it. again, not because scrooge did this because of his competitive strike but because he hasnt show donald that he would choose him even if he couldnt get something out of it. i want more scrooge respecting donald for who he is more than for what he can get out of him. i need scrooge choosing donald because he is family too cuz almost all the time he only chooses him for benefits. like overall, scrooge probably plays favoritism with the twins over anyone else in the family, but with the twins themselves? he favors della over donald, in an over ridiculous open way, he is really not trying to hide it. like, he recriminates donald for not being like della in the ‘17 comics? how fucked up is that? i try not to use the comics’ standpoint of their relationship because it upsets me honestly, they glorified della too much and abused donald too much. maybe because theyre from scrooge’s view of point? hes always going around talking about how great della was but donald? the series at least says that donald is actually freaking good, strong, smart and sharp and deserves the fandom getting over the top for him. the comics well….u know. but the thing is, the comics actually explain why donald is so surprised every time scrooge shows him affection or why donald looks not surprised when scrooge just uses him as a decoy, like bruh :/

‘you spent thirty years guessing what donald was saying, you must get good enough at non-verbal communication’ donald and scrooge are, not-so-surprisingly, good at charades (della must be too, now that i think about it, if scrooge and donald are almost unstoppable then the twins are really hardcore about it), this comes from donald having a speech impediment, something that probably led him to use a lot of non-verbal communication in the past. kids with especially difficult speech impediments to deal with rely heavily on non-verbal communication, usually because they develop social anxiety, insecurities and are overall scared of not being understood and being punished for it, especially outside of their safe circle (bullying, indifference, little to none social circle). baby donald probably suffered from this (who am i kidding, he definitely suffered from it, hell, donald is the most suffering classical disney character honestly the old comics are not even subtle about him being mentally ill and disabled), these kids can even stop altogether talking even to the ppl they know can understand them. all this comes into play if we assume that scrooge hanged with the twins since they were kids. hortense or not, grandma duck or not, scrooge spent time with the twins like he spends it now with the triplets. donald is not the most confident person, since he was a kid, for a good reason, he probably didn’t talk a lot as a kid with ppl outside his safe circle, scrooge comes to play later into his life so hes probably an outsider at the start of their relationship. but adventure needs communication for teamwork and to keep kids safe out there you need to be able to understand them and they need to understand you. this left scrooge with only an option: learn to understand donald, no matter what method he uses. charades? scrooge understands. ASL? scrooge understands. unintelligible gibberish? SCROOGE UNDERSTANDS! wow, hello, lost confidence. 

that probably boosted donald’s confidence quite greatly. an outsider, uncle scrooge that is grumpy and kind of asocial, gave the effort to understand little scared and unintelligible donald that probably only his twin and parents until now could understand perfectly. if that didnt bust his confidence idk what could. points for scrooge for being a great uncle!

for all this, he hasn’t told donald he doesn’t understand him because he does understand him, almost perfectly (like the triplets should do, just saying), he isnt going to have an ‘i dont understad you’ moment…..yet i expect it doesn’t happen or else, im gonna cry, first the triplets who had lived with him all their life? and now scrooge who webby said has spent at least thirty years with him? fucking come on. if della comes back and she doesn’t understand his twin brother perfectly im gonna cry, fucking honestly. donald needs to confidently talk with his speech impediment, excitedly, happy, almost unintelligible but with the confidence that there are ppl out there that do understand him and love him. i expect scrooge and della to be those ppl (not counting the caballeros, uno, storkules, and other family members, who can maybe understand him but arent with him constantly to remind him to not let down his confidence in that matter).

also they fighting nonsensically is the best thing, because they do that a lot, they fight over the most ridiculous things and they act like that sometimes, just pure idiocy over the most unimportant matters is like their default mode is the best. they’re can be so ridiculously petty, i love them. 

3. ‘team uncle for the win!’, hug and retreat and lets just shook hands moment

THEY HUGGED!!!!SO!!!GOOD!!!!! wait no keep hugging what are you doing? show each other how much you care, you need it, you dummies, goddamit and now you’re shaking hands ok why not fucking god

well besides that, ‘team uncle for the win!’ was a beautiful, spontaneous and wholesome moment that i shouldnt overanalyze but i will anyways lmao i have the opinion that scrooge said that spontaneously but can be interpreted in a more literal sense to understand scrooge and donald’s actual status of their relationship. team uncle is literally for the win, it wouldnt exist if it didn’t fulfill that specific function, donald probably knows this team up is more a way for them to win, for scrooge to win. but when against all odds they are successful in jenga (lol) this triggers something in scrooge that genuinely burst him into an affection spring and makes him shout that, it was just a piece, they both know it but its almost the first time they have bonded in years and donald, who is particularly sensitive and reacts a lot to emotions, reacts as well with affection and excitement, and what happens when ppl sync up their emotions spontaneously like that? they are overflowed with it, they need to act on it, emotions are almost impossible to control, they’re unpredictable, quick and extremely powerful driving forces so what obviously happens? THEY HUG!!!! emotions made these two idiots hug, they havent hug in years!!! YEARS!!! and they hug again in years because they were overflowed with genuine affection!!! but like i say, emotions are quick and when they end, its like a slap of realization in the face, they go ‘omg i did that!’ and separate immediately, just to go and cordially shake hands? when emotions are involved, context usually flies out the window, they probably forgot ten years of separation in that instant, but when it ended all those years came back and made it kind of uncomfortable. so their ‘we’re doing this just to win’ attitude comes back.

but it was good! its a good start! i dont know if they showed each other this kind of spontaneous affection but without embarrassment, pre-della disappearing but it. is. GOOD. these two need as much fluff as the triplets and webby get. uncle-nephew/niece relationship is a big thing in the DuckTales universe, and for scrooge and donald to not have as much as the triplets get kills me inside. they need this the most, so i hope this season provides because it started well in that matter, i hope it progresses into unapologetic and genuine affection without embarrassing departings and weird shake hands. 

4. helping him get up moment

completely underrated and wholesome moment, like there are no downs at this moment, its too good, they helping him up? nice. scrooge looking at them mad while protectively holding onto his boy who i remind you is in the will and for consideration, he’s one of his heirs (the other one being definitely della and very probably the triplets)? so nice. beautiful, i love it. mindless fluff this was. 10/10.

5. using donald as a weapon and scrooge’s definition of family.

like theres a difference between fighting alongside scrooge and being used to fight by scrooge. and here we see it, that even when scrooge is technically using donald, they are actually fighting together, its different from when scrooge just forces donald to danger and fights and you know why? because donald is doing it willingly. he is enjoying himself fighting, donald has shown from time to time that he likes to fight. so when he fights willingly and scrooge joins him, he enjoys himself, he is happy. like, look at his face, donald is into it, this is a duck that likes adventure and fighting, this is different from the gladstone’s episode and the ‘17 comics, where scrooge just pushes donald into things without his consent or knowledge because what? he thinks donald wouldnt understand? that donald is going to say no to protect his family if necessary? goddamit scrooge, if you took the time to let donald trust you and explain things to him, he would do the things you ask him, he is smart and u know it. this is one of the things where i hc the twins to differ, adult della followed scrooge almost blindly into danger, pushed by her own ambition and thirst for adventure, while adult donald, careful donald who was probably in the navy and has seen things and adventure spirit has matured, did not. i dont think scrooge took that as good as he should. scrooge favored della for throwing herself at danger just like that, confidently and recklessly, but would frown at donald, who turned around and asked why, who said no, who said but, who said this doesnt worth losing ourselves, who was again, too careful. so, scrooge decides to push him around, to see if this could trigger something, instead of talking him into it, and we know how hard it can be for scrooge to talk things trough. i dont think scrooge had any malicious intent but he didnt choose the best way into that and well, when you force someone into something they dont want, it doesnt end well. scrooge needs to learn to talk things through. also, scrooge needs to apologize, donald already forgave him but just that its not going to fix ten years of separation and past issues. scrooge needs to put his weight into this relationship too. and this probably starts with scrooge’s definition of family:

“You drive each other crazier than anyone could and still care about each other more than anyone!”

we have seen this particular definition of their relationship play into the old comics a lot, and in some low level in the series. but the thing is and i have pointed it out several times for the whole post, scrooge is not exactly good at showing donald how much he cares about him in the series to the point that it surprises donald when scrooge does show that he cares about him, and it makes sense that donald is surprised by it, scrooge had openly displayed favoritism for della saying how incredible she was but for donald the only thing he has really openly displayed is dismissal, comparisons to his sister and that scrooge usually just uses him to his beneficial. scrooge needs to learn how to show his affection to the twin he has left effectively, we know he cares, but donald doesn’t and for good reason! scrooge, show him your love for real!

in conclusion, their relationship is improving! it still needs time and adjustment and for scrooge to meet donald halfway into the whole forgiving the past stuff. however, they love each other despite everything and i think thats what matters the most :D they can do it! these ducks dont back down! AND…

[scifimagpie]

The Free Speech Fallacy

In the wake of the sudden and catastrophic announcement of Tumblr's new policy, I found myself startled by the collapse of something long-assumed in discussions of free speech. "Female-presenting nipples," "sex acts," and "depictions of genitalia" between consenting adults or adult characters are among those being banned, but erotica is still okay to write. Ostensibly, the purpose of all this is to protect the internet from child pornography - but as usual, the cure is almost worse than the crime. Plenty of artistic photos are getting annihilated in the purge.

Obviously, child pornography is Bad, but banning all depictions of sexuality has sent Tumblr's stock plummeting and already devastated the community. But is it even working?

Predictably, since an automated ban system is being used, both hilarious and troubling results have been reported - on my dash, a building with three windows, a lumpy slime shape, and pictures of black men smiling were all flagged as containing "sensitive content." Obviously, this is ridiculous, but more nefarious and concerning is that posts about activism and LGBTQ+ issues were also immediately flagged.

As we speak, the exodus from Tumblr to Newgrounds, which does protect NSFW content, has already begun. So have the floods of sarcastic (but very funny) memes. The rest of the users are panicking or trying not to panic, and often staggering between the two emotions haphazardly.

I'll have more honest and cutting thoughts about this below, but for the time being, here's a visual pun about free speech.

Yes, I did create this silly, mediocre art just for the blog post. Learning to make art is hard.

Censorship - like, actually

Hate speech and sexy speech - and art - are often thrown together, as if they were one and the same or shared the same traits. Anyone who wants to support pornographic or artistic works for their own sake - such as myself - is often forced to accept their nastier cousins, hate speech and violent speech, as part and parcel of the ban list.

There's been some caterwauling about liability in lawsuits, revenge porn, and other such things, but the answer to that is not blanket banning. It's lazy, ineffective, and tars consensual and voluntary work with the same brush as harmful acts. If it's hard to understand why that's a problem, please watch this video about consent.

Lessons from the Exodus

However, this event shows that all forms of controversial speech are not, in fact, created equal. This has long been an argument, but - given that hate speech is surviving this purge easily enough and that nipples, of all the ridiculous things, are not - we can now officially divorce the two. The one is being attacked without any impact on the other. As much as they have often been companions in the penalty box, they are not the same issue, and we ought to be more honest about this, rather than letting Nazis take shelter behind our protection of sex workers and sexy content.

Hate speech, which I personally do not believe should be protected, is visual, verbal, and written expressions encouraging violence towards and harm of marginalised groups. The impact of hate speech and discrimination is directly dependent on how much harm they cause towards people. So for instance, a Muslim woman is subjected to far more prejudice than a white man on a regular basis, so she might be more in need of protection than the white guy. BUT - that does not mean that the white man doesn't need protection from individual acts of violence, such as a mugging or domestic assault (because men are abused, too, and our lack of men's shelters is criminal).

However, advocating for acts of hate using coded language, such as the ((( ))) technique used by alt-righters to distinguish Jewish people, or references to the Fourteen Words and that sort of thing, can be harder to pick up on. Do we silence those too?

On one hand, people should be allowed to exist freely. On the other hand, if those people decide their existence is predicated on harming others, the conflict that arises does not need to be defended. It does not materially benefit or even defend, for instance, the European cultures being talked about. If one demands that the existence of presence of others be punished merely at their whim, that person is wrong.

I can see someone saying, "BUT SJWs OR NPCs [Social Justice Warriors, or our new nickname, non-player characters] DON'T PERMIT THE EXISTENCE OF PEOPLE THEY DISAGREE WITH!"

This is a fundamental misunderstanding of the position. What "we", broadly speaking, want, is to be tolerated and accepted as we are. We often have family members or friends who are or were centrists, right-wing, or even alt-right. It's their beliefs that are the problem. You might say, to put it in Christian terms, that we love the sinners and hate the sin.

But in all seriousness, "white pride" parades and groups have never done anything to actually preserve great works of art or literature. In fact, a lot of preservation work that's been done by various societies - such as by Muslims during the Golden Age of the Ottoman Empire - was done in a spirit of tolerance and sharing. In addition to that, questioning something is not the same as destroying it. I've talked about this stuff before, and it's a huge topic, so let's get back to Tumblr specifically and the future of the arts and queer community on it.

Where do we go now?

Well, Mastodon seems to be an option. I've heard Newgrounds, as mentioned, is a possible haven.

At this point, I think it's time for businesses to be more honest about sexual content compared to other banned content. This purge is timed to match with December 17th, the day to end violence against sex workers. I have gone on record many times as being in support of sex workers, and have occasionally tried to talk about the difference between trafficking myths and trafficking facts, as well as other related issues. Sex workers and creators of sexual content (including writers, artists, cam girls, photographers, and etc) are all being harmed by this foolish and ill-judged, puritanical move - and nobody is being saved from actual hate speech, things that could, in fact harm adults.

Maybe we can talk Tumblr down from its terrible, foolish decision. Maybe not. But I'm making a profile elsewhere just in case, and I'll keep posting and sharing there - and on Tumblr - for as long as they let me. Queer people are not a mistake, nor filthy.

"Filth" is not necessarily even harmful.

We don't deserve to be erased.

***Michelle Browne is a sci fi/fantasy writer. She lives in Lethbridge, AB with her partners-in-crime and their cat. Her days revolve around freelance editing, knitting, jewelry, and nightmares, as well as social justice issues. She is currently working on the next books in her series, other people's manuscripts, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible.

Find her all over the internet:

*** Michelle Browne is a sci fi/fantasy writer. She lives in Lethbridge, AB with her partners-in-crime and their cat. Her days revolve around freelance editing, knitting, jewelry, and nightmares, as well as social justice issues. She is currently working on the next books in her series, other people's manuscripts, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible. Find her all over the internet: The mailing list * Amazon * Medium * Twitter * Instagram * Facebook * Tumblr * OG Blog

[highlydissfunctional]

Haters gonna hate, trolls gonna troll: Where does social media stand in online wars?

(Warning: Long read ahead)

In layman’s terms, trolling means intentionally creating verbal fights online – or online wars if you will – by making controversial or offensive comments to provoke emotions of readers, pushing them to engage in these fights for a troll’s personal amusement or gain while haters usually just participate in online hate speeches. However, the two do have one thing in common: they make life online one hell of a ride.

Although trolling is seen as the lighter, less harmful version of online hate speeches, they are at times taken seriously by authorities, such as in the case of Sean Duffy, a 25 year-old who was imprisoned for 18 weeks in the U.K for commenting and mocking the death of two teenagers on a tribute page on Facebook – which brings us to the work of Whitney Phillips centering around trolls targeting online memorial sites. 

Phillips suggested that despite popular belief that these type of trolls are heartless beings bombarding mourners with offensive insults, there is another side to the story. She stated that these trolling practices are predominantly targeted at “grief tourists”; people who aren’t actually related to whoever is being mourned over and are simply joining in on the “fun” (technically grief) of mourning over the deceased, thus proposing that trolling “grief tourists” is a righteous action taken against those clouding tribute or memorial sites with insincere grief (Sherpherd et. al 2015).

Even so, trolling often causes more harm than good. They not only are pawns used to shift the people’s attention away from rising social issues like sexism, racism, homophobia and others, they are also huge contributors to the normalization of online hate and harassment by legitimizing hate speech – which is related to an individual’s esteem need to exist, to be (Sherpherd et. al 2015). Those who assume the identity of a hater are people who struggle to exist online and have resorted to lowly means like hate-advocating on social media in their journey to achieve online relevance and significance. 

And this is where social media comes in and joins the party because as of today, we can’t have one without the other; where social media goes, online hate speech follows.

But why is social media so closely related to hate?

Well, this has a lot to do with social media sites’ open-to-all infrastructure and the liberal ideal of freedom of expression. Unregulated online spaces are the unguarded soil that let the idea of freedom of speech grow and blossom into what we know today as hate speech (Sherpherd et. al 2015). As the limits of hate speech have always been ill-defined on social media platforms, to participate in hate speech and to get away with it scot-free is like a walk in the park – maybe even easier – which gave rise to the widespread participation in online hate speech.

However, it is unfair to say that social media created hate speech because this would imply that people have never intentionally offended or insulted others before social media came along, which we know is untrue. Hate has always been around. It was here in the form of racism against African-Americans in the 1950s, it was here in the form of transphobia when Masha P. Johnson was found dead in the Hudson River in 1992 and it was definitely still here 4 years ago in the form of hashtag-turned-hate-campaign #GamerGate. If anything, the actions of people online are a mere reflection of their actions offline. Take #GamerGate for example:

Although it was originally stated to be a plight for gaming ethics, further understanding showed that it is actually a backlash and hate campaign against the increasing presence and participation of women in the gaming industry which is perceived to be a change from pre-(s)existing cultural norms (Sherpherd et. al 2015). In simpler words, men felt that women were threatening their male power and privilege in games. Feeling offended, they organized a campaign to show the rest of the world that men are the “true” gamers – depicting how sexist and misogynistic the gaming culture AND the people part of that community are, who are probably as sexist as they are online and offline.

And is anyone doing anything about all this hate? 

Frankly....no, not really. There have been efforts (as there always are) from social media management companies: The Black Lives Matter Facebook group – a target of malicious, hate-fueled comments – has reached an agreement with Facebook to shield certain pages, meaning flagged hate speech will reach the chain of command more quickly; Twitter representatives have responded to online abuse against women by promising to collaborate with the Women, Action and the Media organization while its own CEO also personally apologized for the company’s prior inadequate action regarding women abuse online (Shepherd et. al 2015). 

But, how effective are these actions against the persistent spreading of hate online? Especially when these companies practice the very deeply embedded victim-blaming culture and understand that to them, hate online is more of a profitable development than a problem; which is why alternative interventions are much needed.

However, social media platforms responsible for hosting these abuse are not the ones advocating and developing plans to mitigate online hate. Unfortunately, this burden falls yet again on the shoulders of the victims and the marginalized because policies created and implemented by the non-diverse workforce in tech industries  – made up mostly by people not part of the marginalized groups – will not do much nor will they do nearly enough in protecting people against online abuse, hence why the marginalized are forced to take matters into their own hands in fighting against online hate and abuse.

In the face of online wars of hate and trolling, social media’s affordances are the key used to open doors to the facilitation of hate speech and organization of hate-driven collective movements against the oppressed and marginalized groups both in online and offline societies. Thus, to properly combat this issue, I believe that a mix of corporate technological policy, legislative solutions and an understanding of the underlying online and offline culture is needed to develop a long-term fix for a longstanding problem.

References

Sherpherd, T, Harvey, A, Jordan, T, Srauy, A & Miltner, K 2015, ‘Histories of hating’, Social Media + Society, 1(2), pp. 1 - 10, 4.

[happilyrainyinternet]

How Music and Instruments Began？

Music must first be defined and distinguished from speech, and from animal and bird cries. We discuss the stages of hominid anatomy that permit music to be perceived and created, with the likelihood of both Homo neanderthalensis and Homo sapiens both being capable. The earlier hominid ability to emit sounds of variable pitch with some meaning shows that music at its simplest level must have predated speech. The possibilities of anthropoid motor impulse suggest that rhythm may have preceded melody, though full control of rhythm may well not have come any earlier than the perception of music above. There are four evident purposes for music: dance, ritual, entertainment personal, and communal, and above all social cohesion, again on both personal and communal levels. We then proceed to how outdoor musical instrument began, with a brief survey of the surviving examples from the Mousterian period onward, including the possible Neanderthal evidence and the extent to which they showed “artistic” potential in other fields. We warn that our performance on replicas of surviving instruments may bear little or no resemblance to that of the original players. We continue with how later instruments, strings, and skin-drums began and developed into instruments we know in worldwide cultures today. The sound of music is then discussed, scales and intervals, and the lack of any consistency of consonant tonality around the world. This is followed by iconographic evidence of the instruments of later antiquity into the European Middle Ages, and finally, the history of public performance, again from the possibilities of early humanity into more modern times. This paper draws the ethnomusicological perspective on the entire development of music, instruments, and performance, from the times of H. neanderthalensis and H. sapiens into those of modern musical history, and it is written with the deliberate intention of informing readers who are without special education in music, and providing necessary information for inquiries into the origin of music by cognitive scientists.

But even those elementary questions are a step too far, because first we have to ask “What is music?” and this is a question that is almost impossible to answer. Your idea of music may be very different from mine, and our next-door neighbor’s will almost certainly be different again. Each of us can only answer for ourselves.

Mine is that it is “Sound that conveys emotion.”

We can probably most of us agree that it is sound; yes, silence is a part of that sound, but can there be any music without sound of some sort? For me, that sound has to do something—it cannot just be random noises meaning nothing. There must be some purpose to it, so I use the phrase “that conveys emotion.” What that emotion may be is largely irrelevant to the definition; there is an infinite range of possibilities. An obvious one is pleasure. But equally another could be fear or revulsion.

How do we distinguish that sound from speech, for speech can also convey emotion? It would seem that musical sound must have some sort of controlled variation of pitch, controlled because speech can also vary in pitch, especially when under overt emotion. So music should also have some element of rhythm, at least of pattern. But so has the recital of a sonnet, and this is why I said above that the question of “What is music?” is impossible to answer. Perhaps the answer is that each of us in our own way can say “Yes, this is music,” and “No, that is speech.”

Must the sound be organized? I have thought that it must be, and yet an unorganized series of sounds can create a sense of fear or of warning. Here, again, I must insert a personal explanation: I am what is called an ethno-organologist; my work is the study of musical tubular musical instrument (organology) and worldwide (hence the ethno-, as in ethnomusicology, the study of music worldwide). So to take just one example of an instrument, the ratchet or rattle, a blade, usually of wood, striking against the teeth of a cogwheel as the blade rotates round the handle that holds the cogwheel. This instrument is used by crowds at sporting matches of all sorts; it is used by farmers to scare the birds from the crops; it was and still is used by the Roman Catholic church in Holy Week when the bells “go to Rome to be blessed” (they do not of course actually go but they are silenced for that week); it was scored by Beethoven to represent musketry in his so-called Battle Symphony, a work more formally called Wellingtons Sieg oder die Schlacht bei Vittoria, Op.91, that was written originally for Maelzel’s giant musical box, the Panharmonicon. Beethoven also scored it out for live performance by orchestras and it is now often heard in our concert halls “with cannon and mortar effects” to attract people to popular concerts. And it was also, during the Second World War, used in Britain by Air-Raid Precaution wardens to warn of a gas attack, thus producing an emotion of fear. If it was scored by Beethoven, it must be regarded as a musical instrument, and there are many other noise-makers that, like it, which must be regarded as musical instruments.

And so, to return to our definition of music, organization may be regarded as desirable for musical sound, but that it cannot be deemed essential, and thus my definition remains “Sound that conveys emotion.”

But then another question arises: is music only ours? We can, I think, now agree that two elements of music are melody, i.e., variation of pitch, plus rhythmic impulse. But almost all animals can produce sounds that vary in pitch, and every animal has a heart beat. Can we regard bird song as music? It certainly conveys musical pleasure for us, it is copied musically (Beethoven again, in his Pastoral Symphony, no.6, op. 68, and in many works by other composers), and it conveys distinct signals for that bird and for other birds and, as a warning, for other animals also. Animal cries also convey signals, and both birds and animals have been observed moving apparently rhythmically. But here, we, as musicologists and ethnomusicologists alike, are generally agreed to ignore bird song, animal cries, and rhythmic movement as music even if, later, we may regard it as important when we are discussing origins below. We ignore these sounds, partly because they seem only to be signals, for example alarms etc, or “this is my territory,” and partly, although they are frequently parts of a mating display, this does not seem to impinge on society as a whole, a feature that, as we shall see, can be of prime importance in human music. Perhaps, too, we should admit to a prejudice: that we are human and animals are not…

So now, we can turn to the questions of vocalization versus motor impulse: which came first, singing or percussive rhythms? At least we can have no doubt whatsoever that for melody, singing must long have preceded instrumental performance, but did physical movement have the accompaniment of hand- or body-clapping and perhaps its amplification with clappers of sticks or stones, and which of them came first?

Here, we turn first to the study of the potentials of the human body. There is a large literature on this, but it has recently been summarized by Iain Morley in his The Prehistory of Music (Morley, 2013). So far as vocalization is concerned, at what point in our evolution was the vocal tract able to control the production of a range of musical pitch? For although my initial definition of music did not include the question of pitch, nor of rhythm, once we begin to discuss and amplify our ideas of music, one or other of these, does seem to be an essential—a single sound with no variation of pitch nor with any variation in time can hardly be described as musical.

All animals have the ability to produce sounds, and most of these sounds have meanings, at least to their ears. Surely, this is true also of the earliest hominims. If a mother emits sounds to soothe a baby, and if such sound inflects somewhat in pitch, however vaguely, is this song? An ethnomusicologist, those who study the music of exotic peoples, would probably say “yes,” while trying to analyze and record the pitches concerned. A biologist would also regard mother–infant vocalizations as prototypical of music (Fitch, 2006). There are peoples (or have been before the ever-contaminating influence of the electronic profusion of musical reproduction) whose music has consisted only of two or three pitches, and those pitches not always consistent, and these have always been accepted as music by ethnomusicologists. So we have to admit that vocal music of some sort may have existed from the earliest traces of humanity, long before the proper anatomical and physiological developments enabled the use of both speech and what we might call “music proper,” with control and appreciation of pitch.

In this context, it is clear also that “music” in this earliest form must surely have preceded speech. The ability to produce something melodic, a murmuration of sound, something between humming and crooning to a baby, must have long preceded the ability to form the consonants and vowels that are the essential constituents of speech. A meaning, yes: “Mama looks after you, darling,” “Oy, look out!” and other non-verbal signals convey meaning, but they are not speech.

The possibilities of motor impulse are also complex. Here, again, we need to look at the animal kingdom. Both animals and birds have been observed making movements that, if they were humans, would certainly be described as dance, especially for courtship, but also, with the higher apes in groups. Accompaniment for the latter can include foot-slapping, making more sound than is necessary just for locomotion, and also body-slapping (Williams, 1967). Can we regard such sounds as music? If they were humans, yes without doubt. So how far back in the evolutionary tree can we suggest that motor impulse and its sonorous accompaniment might go? I have already postulated in my Origins and Development of xylophone musical instrument (Montagu, 2007, p. 1) that this could go back as far as the earliest flint tools, that striking two stones together as a rhythmic accompaniment to movement might have produced the first flakes that were used as tools, or alternatively that interaction between two or more flint-knappers may have led to rhythms and counter-rhythms, such as we still hear between smiths and mortar-and-pestle millers of grains and coffee beans. This, of course, was kite-flying rather than a wholly serious suggestion, but the possibilities remain. At what stage did a hominim realize that it could make more sound, or could alleviate painful palms, by striking two sticks or stones together, rather than by simple clapping? Again we turn to Morley and to the capability of the physiological and neurological expression of rhythm.

The physiological must be presumed from the above animal observations. The neurological would again, at its simplest, seem to be pre-human. There is plenty of evidence for gorillas drumming their chests and for chimpanzees to move rhythmically in groups. However, apes’ capacity for keeping steady rhythm is very limited (Geissmann, 2000), suggesting that it constitutes a later evolutionary development in hominins. Perceptions of more detailed appreciation of rhythm, particularly of rhythmic variation, can only be hypothesized by studies of modern humans, especially of course of infantile behavior and perception.

From all this, it would seem that motor impulse, leading to rhythmic music and to dance could be at least as early as the simplest vocal inflection of sounds. Indeed, it could be earlier. We said above that animals have hearts, and certainly, all anthropoids have a heartbeat slow enough, and perceptible enough, to form some basis for rhythmic movement at a reasonable speed. Could this have been a basis for rhythmic movement such as we have just mentioned? This can only be a hypothesis, for there is no way to check it, but it does seem to me that almost all creatures seem to have an innate tendency to move together in the same rhythm when moving in groups, and this without any audible signal, so that some form of rhythmic movement may have preceded vocalization.

But Why Does Music Develop from Such Beginnings? What is the Purpose of Music?

There are four obvious purposes: dance, personal or communal entertainment, communication, and ritual.

Seemingly more important than these fairly obvious reasons for why music developed is one for why music began in the first place. This is something that Steven Mithen mentions again and again in his book, The Singing Neanderthals (Mithen, 2005): that music is not only cohesive on society but almost adhesive. Music leads to bonding, bonding between mother and child, bonding between groups who are working together or who are together for any other purpose. Work songs are a cohesive element in most pre-industrial societies, for they mean that everyone of the group moves together and thus increases the force of their work. Even today “Music while you Work” has a strong element of keeping workers happy when doing repetitive and otherwise boring work. Dancing or singing together before a hunt or warfare binds the participants into a cohesive group, and we all know how walking or marching in step helps to keep one going. It is even suggested that it was music, in causing such bonding, that created not only the family but society itself, bringing individuals together who might otherwise have led solitary lives, scattered at random over the landscape.

Thus, it may be that the whole purpose of music was cohesion, cohesion between parent and child, cohesion between father and mother, cohesion between one family and the next, and thus the creation of the whole organization of society.

Much of this above can only be theoretical—we know of much of its existence in our own time but we have no way of estimating its antiquity other than by the often-derided “evidence” of the anthropological records of isolated, pre-literate peoples. So let us now turn to the hard evidence of early musical practice, that of the surviving musical instruments.1

This can only be comparatively late in time, for it would seem to be obvious that sound makers of soft vegetal origin should have preceded those of harder materials that are more difficult to work, whereas it is only the hard materials that can survive through the millennia. Surely natural materials such as grasses, reeds, and wood preceded bone? That this is so is strongly supported by the advanced state of many early bone pipes—the makers clearly knew exactly what they were doing in making musical instruments, with years or generations of experiment behind them on the softer materials. For example, some end-blown and notch-blown flutes, the earliest undoubted ones that we have, from Geissenklösterle and Hohle Fels in Swabia, Germany, made from swan, vulture wing (radius) bones, and ivory in the earliest Aurignacian period (between 43,000 and 39,000 years BP), have their fingerholes recessed by thinning an area around the hole to ensure an airtight seal when the finger closes them. This can only be the result of long experience of flute making.

So how did tembos musical instrument begin? First a warning: with archeological material, we have what has been found; we do not have what has not been found. A site can be found and excavated, but if another site has not been found, then it will not have been excavated. Thus, absence of material does not mean that it did not exist, only that it has not been found yet. Geography is relevant too. Archeology has been a much older science in Europe than elsewhere, so that most of our evidence is European, whereas in Africa, where all species of Homo seem to have originated, site archeology is in its infancy. Also, we have much evidence of bone pipes simply because a piece of bone with a number of holes along its length is fairly obviously a probable musical instrument, whereas how can we tell whether some bone tubes without fingerholes might have been held together as panpipes? Or whether a number of pieces of bone found together might or might not have been struck together as idiophones? We shall find one complex of these later on here which certainly were instruments. And what about bullroarers, those blades of bone, with a hole or a constriction at one end for a cord, which were whirled around the player’s head to create a noise-like thunder or the bellowing of a bull, or if small and whirled faster sounded like the scream of a devil? We have many such bones, but how many were bullroarers, how many were used for some other purpose?

So how did pipes begin? Did someone hear the wind whistle over the top of a broken reed and then try to emulate that sound with his own breath? Did he or his successors eventually realize that a shorter piece of reed produced a higher pitch and a longer segment a lower one? Did he ever combine these into a group of tubes, either disjunctly, each played by a separate player, as among the Venda of South Africa and in Lithuania, or conjointly lashed together to form a panpipe for a single player? Did, over the generations, someone find that these grouped pipes could be replaced with a single tube by boring holes in it, with each hole representing the length of one of that group? All this is speculation, of course, but something like it must have happened.

Or were instruments first made to imitate cries? The idea of the hunting lure, the device to imitate an animal’s cry and so lure it within reach, is of unknown age. Or were they first made to imitate the animal in a ritual to call for the success of tomorrow’s hunt? Some cries can be imitated by the mouth; others need a tool, a short piece of cane, bits of reed or grass or bone blown across the end like a key or a pen-top. Others are made from a piece of bark held between the tongue and the lip (I have heard a credit card used in this way!). The piece of cane or bone would only produce a single sound, but the bark, or in Romania a carp scale, can produce the most beautiful music as well as being used as a hunting call. The softer materials will not have survived and with the many small segments of bone that we have, there is no way to tell whether they might have been used in this way or whether they are merely the detritus from the dining table.

This bone does raise the whole question of whether H. neanderthalensis knew of or practised music in any form. For rhythm, we can only say surely, as above—if earlier hominids could have, so could H. neanderthalensis. Could they have sung? A critical anatomical feature is the position of the larynx (Morley, 2013, 135ff); the lower the larynx in the throat the longer the vocal cords and thus the greater flexibility of pitch variation and of vowel sounds (to put it at its simplest). It would seem to have been that with H. heidelbergensis and its successors that the larynx was lower and thus that singing, as distinct from humming, could have been possible, but “seems to have been” is necessary because, as is so often, this is still the subject of controversy. However, it does seem fairly clear that H. neanderthalensis could indeed have sung. It follows, too, that while the Divje Babe “pipe” may or may not have been an instrument, others may yet be found that were ensemble musical instrument. There is evidence that the Neanderthals had at least artistic sensibilities, for there are bones with scratch marks on them that may have been some form of art, and certainly there is a number of small pierced objects, pieces of shell, animal teeth, and so forth, found in various excavations that can only have served as beads for a necklace or other ornamentation – or just possibly as rattles. There have also been found pieces of pigments of various colors, some of them showing wear marks and thus that they had been used to color something, and at least one that had been shaped into the form of a crayon, indicating that some reasonably delicate pigmentation had been desired. Burials have been found, with some small deposits of grave goods, though whether these reveal sensibilities or forms of ritual or belief, we cannot know (D’Errico et al., 2003, 19ff). There have also been found many bone awls, including some very delicate ones which, we may presume, had been used to pierce skins so that they could be sewn together. All this leads us to the conclusion that the Neanderthals had at least some artistic and other feelings, were capable of some musical practices, even if only vocal, and were clothed, rather than being the grunting, naked savages that have been assumed in the past.

[colorfuljellyfishpirate]

How Music and Instruments Began？

Music must first be defined and distinguished from speech, and from animal and bird cries. We discuss the stages of hominid anatomy that permit music to be perceived and created, with the likelihood of both Homo neanderthalensis and Homo sapiens both being capable. The earlier hominid ability to emit sounds of variable pitch with some meaning shows that music at its simplest level must have predated speech. The possibilities of anthropoid motor impulse suggest that rhythm may have preceded melody, though full control of rhythm may well not have come any earlier than the perception of music above. There are four evident purposes for music: dance, ritual, entertainment personal, and communal, and above all social cohesion, again on both personal and communal levels. We then proceed to how outdoor musical instrument began, with a brief survey of the surviving examples from the Mousterian period onward, including the possible Neanderthal evidence and the extent to which they showed “artistic” potential in other fields. We warn that our performance on replicas of surviving instruments may bear little or no resemblance to that of the original players. We continue with how later instruments, strings, and skin-drums began and developed into instruments we know in worldwide cultures today. The sound of music is then discussed, scales and intervals, and the lack of any consistency of consonant tonality around the world. This is followed by iconographic evidence of the instruments of later antiquity into the European Middle Ages, and finally, the history of public performance, again from the possibilities of early humanity into more modern times. This paper draws the ethnomusicological perspective on the entire development of music, instruments, and performance, from the times of H. neanderthalensis and H. sapiens into those of modern musical history, and it is written with the deliberate intention of informing readers who are without special education in music, and providing necessary information for inquiries into the origin of music by cognitive scientists.

But even those elementary questions are a step too far, because first we have to ask “What is music?” and this is a question that is almost impossible to answer. Your idea of music may be very different from mine, and our next-door neighbor’s will almost certainly be different again. Each of us can only answer for ourselves.

Mine is that it is “Sound that conveys emotion.”

We can probably most of us agree that it is sound; yes, silence is a part of that sound, but can there be any music without sound of some sort? For me, that sound has to do something—it cannot just be random noises meaning nothing. There must be some purpose to it, so I use the phrase “that conveys emotion.” What that emotion may be is largely irrelevant to the definition; there is an infinite range of possibilities. An obvious one is pleasure. But equally another could be fear or revulsion.

How do we distinguish that sound from speech, for speech can also convey emotion? It would seem that musical sound must have some sort of controlled variation of pitch, controlled because speech can also vary in pitch, especially when under overt emotion. So music should also have some element of rhythm, at least of pattern. But so has the recital of a sonnet, and this is why I said above that the question of “What is music?” is impossible to answer. Perhaps the answer is that each of us in our own way can say “Yes, this is music,” and “No, that is speech.”

Must the sound be organized? I have thought that it must be, and yet an unorganized series of sounds can create a sense of fear or of warning. Here, again, I must insert a personal explanation: I am what is called an ethno-organologist; my work is the study of musical tubular musical instrument (organology) and worldwide (hence the ethno-, as in ethnomusicology, the study of music worldwide). So to take just one example of an instrument, the ratchet or rattle, a blade, usually of wood, striking against the teeth of a cogwheel as the blade rotates round the handle that holds the cogwheel. This instrument is used by crowds at sporting matches of all sorts; it is used by farmers to scare the birds from the crops; it was and still is used by the Roman Catholic church in Holy Week when the bells “go to Rome to be blessed” (they do not of course actually go but they are silenced for that week); it was scored by Beethoven to represent musketry in his so-called Battle Symphony, a work more formally called Wellingtons Sieg oder die Schlacht bei Vittoria, Op.91, that was written originally for Maelzel’s giant musical box, the Panharmonicon. Beethoven also scored it out for live performance by orchestras and it is now often heard in our concert halls “with cannon and mortar effects” to attract people to popular concerts. And it was also, during the Second World War, used in Britain by Air-Raid Precaution wardens to warn of a gas attack, thus producing an emotion of fear. If it was scored by Beethoven, it must be regarded as a musical instrument, and there are many other noise-makers that, like it, which must be regarded as musical instruments.

And so, to return to our definition of music, organization may be regarded as desirable for musical sound, but that it cannot be deemed essential, and thus my definition remains “Sound that conveys emotion.”

But then another question arises: is music only ours? We can, I think, now agree that two elements of music are melody, i.e., variation of pitch, plus rhythmic impulse. But almost all animals can produce sounds that vary in pitch, and every animal has a heart beat. Can we regard bird song as music? It certainly conveys musical pleasure for us, it is copied musically (Beethoven again, in his Pastoral Symphony, no.6, op. 68, and in many works by other composers), and it conveys distinct signals for that bird and for other birds and, as a warning, for other animals also. Animal cries also convey signals, and both birds and animals have been observed moving apparently rhythmically. But here, we, as musicologists and ethnomusicologists alike, are generally agreed to ignore bird song, animal cries, and rhythmic movement as music even if, later, we may regard it as important when we are discussing origins below. We ignore these sounds, partly because they seem only to be signals, for example alarms etc, or “this is my territory,” and partly, although they are frequently parts of a mating display, this does not seem to impinge on society as a whole, a feature that, as we shall see, can be of prime importance in human music. Perhaps, too, we should admit to a prejudice: that we are human and animals are not…

So now, we can turn to the questions of vocalization versus motor impulse: which came first, singing or percussive rhythms? At least we can have no doubt whatsoever that for melody, singing must long have preceded instrumental performance, but did physical movement have the accompaniment of hand- or body-clapping and perhaps its amplification with clappers of sticks or stones, and which of them came first?

Here, we turn first to the study of the potentials of the human body. There is a large literature on this, but it has recently been summarized by Iain Morley in his The Prehistory of Music (Morley, 2013). So far as vocalization is concerned, at what point in our evolution was the vocal tract able to control the production of a range of musical pitch? For although my initial definition of music did not include the question of pitch, nor of rhythm, once we begin to discuss and amplify our ideas of music, one or other of these, does seem to be an essential—a single sound with no variation of pitch nor with any variation in time can hardly be described as musical.

All animals have the ability to produce sounds, and most of these sounds have meanings, at least to their ears. Surely, this is true also of the earliest hominims. If a mother emits sounds to soothe a baby, and if such sound inflects somewhat in pitch, however vaguely, is this song? An ethnomusicologist, those who study the music of exotic peoples, would probably say “yes,” while trying to analyze and record the pitches concerned. A biologist would also regard mother–infant vocalizations as prototypical of music (Fitch, 2006). There are peoples (or have been before the ever-contaminating influence of the electronic profusion of musical reproduction) whose music has consisted only of two or three pitches, and those pitches not always consistent, and these have always been accepted as music by ethnomusicologists. So we have to admit that vocal music of some sort may have existed from the earliest traces of humanity, long before the proper anatomical and physiological developments enabled the use of both speech and what we might call “music proper,” with control and appreciation of pitch.

In this context, it is clear also that “music” in this earliest form must surely have preceded speech. The ability to produce something melodic, a murmuration of sound, something between humming and crooning to a baby, must have long preceded the ability to form the consonants and vowels that are the essential constituents of speech. A meaning, yes: “Mama looks after you, darling,” “Oy, look out!” and other non-verbal signals convey meaning, but they are not speech.

The possibilities of motor impulse are also complex. Here, again, we need to look at the animal kingdom. Both animals and birds have been observed making movements that, if they were humans, would certainly be described as dance, especially for courtship, but also, with the higher apes in groups. Accompaniment for the latter can include foot-slapping, making more sound than is necessary just for locomotion, and also body-slapping (Williams, 1967). Can we regard such sounds as music? If they were humans, yes without doubt. So how far back in the evolutionary tree can we suggest that motor impulse and its sonorous accompaniment might go? I have already postulated in my Origins and Development of xylophone musical instrument (Montagu, 2007, p. 1) that this could go back as far as the earliest flint tools, that striking two stones together as a rhythmic accompaniment to movement might have produced the first flakes that were used as tools, or alternatively that interaction between two or more flint-knappers may have led to rhythms and counter-rhythms, such as we still hear between smiths and mortar-and-pestle millers of grains and coffee beans. This, of course, was kite-flying rather than a wholly serious suggestion, but the possibilities remain. At what stage did a hominim realize that it could make more sound, or could alleviate painful palms, by striking two sticks or stones together, rather than by simple clapping? Again we turn to Morley and to the capability of the physiological and neurological expression of rhythm.

The physiological must be presumed from the above animal observations. The neurological would again, at its simplest, seem to be pre-human. There is plenty of evidence for gorillas drumming their chests and for chimpanzees to move rhythmically in groups. However, apes’ capacity for keeping steady rhythm is very limited (Geissmann, 2000), suggesting that it constitutes a later evolutionary development in hominins. Perceptions of more detailed appreciation of rhythm, particularly of rhythmic variation, can only be hypothesized by studies of modern humans, especially of course of infantile behavior and perception.

From all this, it would seem that motor impulse, leading to rhythmic music and to dance could be at least as early as the simplest vocal inflection of sounds. Indeed, it could be earlier. We said above that animals have hearts, and certainly, all anthropoids have a heartbeat slow enough, and perceptible enough, to form some basis for rhythmic movement at a reasonable speed. Could this have been a basis for rhythmic movement such as we have just mentioned? This can only be a hypothesis, for there is no way to check it, but it does seem to me that almost all creatures seem to have an innate tendency to move together in the same rhythm when moving in groups, and this without any audible signal, so that some form of rhythmic movement may have preceded vocalization.

But Why Does Music Develop from Such Beginnings? What is the Purpose of Music?

There are four obvious purposes: dance, personal or communal entertainment, communication, and ritual.

Seemingly more important than these fairly obvious reasons for why music developed is one for why music began in the first place. This is something that Steven Mithen mentions again and again in his book, The Singing Neanderthals (Mithen, 2005): that music is not only cohesive on society but almost adhesive. Music leads to bonding, bonding between mother and child, bonding between groups who are working together or who are together for any other purpose. Work songs are a cohesive element in most pre-industrial societies, for they mean that everyone of the group moves together and thus increases the force of their work. Even today “Music while you Work” has a strong element of keeping workers happy when doing repetitive and otherwise boring work. Dancing or singing together before a hunt or warfare binds the participants into a cohesive group, and we all know how walking or marching in step helps to keep one going. It is even suggested that it was music, in causing such bonding, that created not only the family but society itself, bringing individuals together who might otherwise have led solitary lives, scattered at random over the landscape.

Thus, it may be that the whole purpose of music was cohesion, cohesion between parent and child, cohesion between father and mother, cohesion between one family and the next, and thus the creation of the whole organization of society.

Much of this above can only be theoretical—we know of much of its existence in our own time but we have no way of estimating its antiquity other than by the often-derided “evidence” of the anthropological records of isolated, pre-literate peoples. So let us now turn to the hard evidence of early musical practice, that of the surviving musical instruments.1

This can only be comparatively late in time, for it would seem to be obvious that sound makers of soft vegetal origin should have preceded those of harder materials that are more difficult to work, whereas it is only the hard materials that can survive through the millennia. Surely natural materials such as grasses, reeds, and wood preceded bone? That this is so is strongly supported by the advanced state of many early bone pipes—the makers clearly knew exactly what they were doing in making musical instruments, with years or generations of experiment behind them on the softer materials. For example, some end-blown and notch-blown flutes, the earliest undoubted ones that we have, from Geissenklösterle and Hohle Fels in Swabia, Germany, made from swan, vulture wing (radius) bones, and ivory in the earliest Aurignacian period (between 43,000 and 39,000 years BP), have their fingerholes recessed by thinning an area around the hole to ensure an airtight seal when the finger closes them. This can only be the result of long experience of flute making.

So how did tembos musical instrument begin? First a warning: with archeological material, we have what has been found; we do not have what has not been found. A site can be found and excavated, but if another site has not been found, then it will not have been excavated. Thus, absence of material does not mean that it did not exist, only that it has not been found yet. Geography is relevant too. Archeology has been a much older science in Europe than elsewhere, so that most of our evidence is European, whereas in Africa, where all species of Homo seem to have originated, site archeology is in its infancy. Also, we have much evidence of bone pipes simply because a piece of bone with a number of holes along its length is fairly obviously a probable musical instrument, whereas how can we tell whether some bone tubes without fingerholes might have been held together as panpipes? Or whether a number of pieces of bone found together might or might not have been struck together as idiophones? We shall find one complex of these later on here which certainly were instruments. And what about bullroarers, those blades of bone, with a hole or a constriction at one end for a cord, which were whirled around the player’s head to create a noise-like thunder or the bellowing of a bull, or if small and whirled faster sounded like the scream of a devil? We have many such bones, but how many were bullroarers, how many were used for some other purpose?

So how did pipes begin? Did someone hear the wind whistle over the top of a broken reed and then try to emulate that sound with his own breath? Did he or his successors eventually realize that a shorter piece of reed produced a higher pitch and a longer segment a lower one? Did he ever combine these into a group of tubes, either disjunctly, each played by a separate player, as among the Venda of South Africa and in Lithuania, or conjointly lashed together to form a panpipe for a single player? Did, over the generations, someone find that these grouped pipes could be replaced with a single tube by boring holes in it, with each hole representing the length of one of that group? All this is speculation, of course, but something like it must have happened.

Or were instruments first made to imitate cries? The idea of the hunting lure, the device to imitate an animal’s cry and so lure it within reach, is of unknown age. Or were they first made to imitate the animal in a ritual to call for the success of tomorrow’s hunt? Some cries can be imitated by the mouth; others need a tool, a short piece of cane, bits of reed or grass or bone blown across the end like a key or a pen-top. Others are made from a piece of bark held between the tongue and the lip (I have heard a credit card used in this way!). The piece of cane or bone would only produce a single sound, but the bark, or in Romania a carp scale, can produce the most beautiful music as well as being used as a hunting call. The softer materials will not have survived and with the many small segments of bone that we have, there is no way to tell whether they might have been used in this way or whether they are merely the detritus from the dining table.

This bone does raise the whole question of whether H. neanderthalensis knew of or practised music in any form. For rhythm, we can only say surely, as above—if earlier hominids could have, so could H. neanderthalensis. Could they have sung? A critical anatomical feature is the position of the larynx (Morley, 2013, 135ff); the lower the larynx in the throat the longer the vocal cords and thus the greater flexibility of pitch variation and of vowel sounds (to put it at its simplest). It would seem to have been that with H. heidelbergensis and its successors that the larynx was lower and thus that singing, as distinct from humming, could have been possible, but “seems to have been” is necessary because, as is so often, this is still the subject of controversy. However, it does seem fairly clear that H. neanderthalensis could indeed have sung. It follows, too, that while the Divje Babe “pipe” may or may not have been an instrument, others may yet be found that were ensemble musical instrument. There is evidence that the Neanderthals had at least artistic sensibilities, for there are bones with scratch marks on them that may have been some form of art, and certainly there is a number of small pierced objects, pieces of shell, animal teeth, and so forth, found in various excavations that can only have served as beads for a necklace or other ornamentation – or just possibly as rattles. There have also been found pieces of pigments of various colors, some of them showing wear marks and thus that they had been used to color something, and at least one that had been shaped into the form of a crayon, indicating that some reasonably delicate pigmentation had been desired. Burials have been found, with some small deposits of grave goods, though whether these reveal sensibilities or forms of ritual or belief, we cannot know (D’Errico et al., 2003, 19ff). There have also been found many bone awls, including some very delicate ones which, we may presume, had been used to pierce skins so that they could be sewn together. All this leads us to the conclusion that the Neanderthals had at least some artistic and other feelings, were capable of some musical practices, even if only vocal, and were clothed, rather than being the grunting, naked savages that have been assumed in the past.

[oudenoida]

mihali/inanna - can't sleep

It wasn’t unusual that the middle of the night rolled around and found Mihali Paveros anywhere but in his own bed. They were a crepuscular species in general, and Mihali had always found himself better suited to productivity when the moon was high as opposed to under the harsh light of day. It was strange to him to be living in a home so large it seemed a small city unto itself. Magical humans, especially those as fabulously wealthy as Inanna Zabini, seemed to build homes that defied the laws of the world around them, fitting themselves into empty spaces that were far too small for the grandeur of the building. An interesting application for their magical talent but one that somewhat escaped the understanding of the young gorgon. The islands he had grown up in had almost no buildings on the surface, which conveniently hid a spacious underground village in the cave network beneath their shores. But the palatial opulence of The Gardens was something he had never experienced before. 

It was a marvel to him that the whole household (well, most of it at least. The spymaster who’d visited the Cretan stronghold Mihali had called home never moved with the rest of the house) shifted what wing of the house it lived in depending on the season. It seemed a strange thing to pack up his few belongings and shift to another suite of rooms as Spring ebbed into Summer, but he hadn’t felt it worth mentioning to anyone else in the house. He was a guest, of a sort, and a diplomat, of an even more strange sort, and frankly he was happy to have a set of rooms that didn’t have one of 78 sisters barging into it at any given moment. 

But sitting in the dim of the kitchen, worn sweatpants doing nothing to quell the chill of the marble countertop he sat on, it was easy to reflect on the strangeness of the whole situation as he ate some leftover pizza that Raleigh had cooked, feeding morsels of salted fish to the snakes of his hair that sleepily brushed his shoulders, “it’s a far cry from home, that’s for sure.”  The pirate Kamon had brought salted sunfish back from one of his more recent voyages as a gift. Mihali hadn’t even known the “man” knew he’d been living in The Gardens, but the fact that he’d known exactly what was considered a delicacy by Gorgons meant that there was more to him than met the eye. This confirmed the thought that Mihali had that he was only wearing the shape of a man, but wasn’t one. He could smell something underneath the handsome face. Brine and age. Power. It made sense. He’d seen Kamon and Leonidas together, and he knew the handsome vampire only looked in his mid-20s. Raleigh had confided that Leo was one of Madame Zabini’s oldest friends, and was in reality millenia old. 

One of the snakes in his hair nibbled his fingers in annoyance as he was too slow bringing another small piece of dried fish up to them. “If you’re assholes then nobody gets fish. Is that what you want? I’ll just sit here and eat this pizza and nobody gets sunfish. Don’t make me tell Captain Kamon that you’re all bad and don’t deserve more treats.” He heard the sound of a gentle laugh behind him and turned quickly, face flushing as he saw Inanna Zabini herself with a baby on each hip. 

“I always wondered. Does your hair need to eat? Does it exist as a separate entity? Or is this just a strange piece of Gorgon culture I’ll never truly understand because my hair isn’t sentient snakes with the power to turn people to stone?” 

He managed to keep the squeak inside, but there was still a quiet gasp as he slid down from the counter, bowing quickly at the waist, “Lady Zabini. Good evening.” 

The snort he got in response was far from ladylike but still perfectly Inanna, “We’re far past evening, snakelet. I think we’re well and truly into morning now but these two have no sense of time yet.” She breezed past him into the kitchen, depositing a very unhappy looking Kalama into his arms, “Hold her for me while I heat their bottles. You also didn’t answer my question.” She looked at him over her shoulder as he held the infant, eyes wide and a look of horror sliding over his features at the tremendous burden placed in his hands, “You people don’t have babies? You won’t break her, Paveros. You can hold her. You’re not cold blooded are you? I see you don’t have a shirt on, is that going to be cold?” 

“I’m warm to the touch, your ladyship.” It wasn’t the order in which she’d asked the questions but it was the first thing that sprang to his mind as he held her daughter close, resting her head in the crook of his neck. 

“Yes. So Besmertnaya tells the Pack.” 

It was only the fact that he had a baby in his arms that kept him from bolting from the kitchen in embarrassment, “Well…. He would know.” 

It was edifying to get an actual laugh out of Inanna, “I’m so proud you didn’t just hem and haw around that. No shame in bedding someone as handsome as him.” 

It only occurred to Mihali after he’d already answered the question that it might have been a trick to get him to admit to the liaison, but it didn’t seem like there was any threat or danger from the admission, and so he padded quietly across the stone floor to stand next to Inanna at the stove, “It’s not the hair.” 

She turned to look at him, pressing a small kiss to Blaise’s head as he squalled at the movement, but didn’t speak, her cool gaze unreadable, but seeming to allow him the space to finish answering her questions. 

“It’s the eyes. The snakes that are hair, well at least in female Gorgons, have a powerful paralytic venom, but it won’t turn you to stone.” He bounced slightly as Kala nuzzled against his neck, “Adult gorgons have a structure within the cornea that allows the casting of the transfiguration to stone. Well adult female Gorgons. My snakes have no venom and I can’t turn people to stone. I just have venom in my personal fangs. Also no we’re not cold-blooded. The snakes don’t need to eat, but they like eating. It’s all caloric intake that goes into my body as a whole. They just have their own personal preferences.” 

“I wasn’t concerned you were going to turn us all into stone, dearest. You did say adult and you’re still very much not.” 

With an exaggerated sniff he stuck his nose up a little, “I’m older than you! I assume. I’m not going to ask your age, that would be wildly inappropriate, however I will say I’m turning 36 next month and am beyond reasonably sure that’s older than you.” 

It was a testament to her non-verbal communication skills that all it took for her to get an entire paragraph’s worth of speech across was one single look through long lashes. 

“We age much more slowly than humans. We’re not eternals by any means, not like Captain Kamon and Sir Leonidas. But I’m coming up on forty and I’m still considered…” He did some quick mental math as he bobbed up and down, rubbing gentle circles on Kalama’s back, “a very early teenager by our standards.” 

“So they sent me a child as an envoy.” Her arch tone was mimicked in her facial expression as she passed him one bottle, keeping the other for herself as a disgruntled Blaise made it known he was not a fan of being woken up for midnight feedings. 

“They sent you an expendable resource.” He carefully shifted Kala so she was cradled in one of his arms, offering her the bottle as he rocked her, “I’m young and a boy. Two things they can afford to lose if this turns out to be a trap. The Matriarchs are old and they are cunning. They fully don’t trust you yet, and they especially did not trust Spymaster Pettigrew.” The snakes on his head hiss softly in time with his rocking, weaving a soothing if sibilant lullaby for Kala to take her bottle to. “So if this is just a trick humans are using to lure us out in the open for hunting you’ll just kill me, no great trophy, and the tribe stays safe in our stronghold.” 

“They sent me a child as a sacrifice?” 

Kala finished the bottle and Mihali grabbed a clean towel from the cupboard, turning her to press against his chest as he burped her gently. Her little fingers ran over the thin lines of scales that ran up his neck when they weren’t hidden by his glamour “ow ow ow with the grain of the scales, Mistress Zabini, not against.” She giggled, almost as if she could understand him, and settled against his chest with a small sigh, “Not as a sacrifice. But as an acceptable casualty. They weighed risk and reward. The reward was the potential for an alliance with more of the inhuman magical races. The risk was it was a trap. We’ve functioned pretty well as a species without such an alliance before so, the Matriarchs weren’t willing to risk much. The runt from the last clutch was about as much as they were send off into the world. They wouldn’t send you one of my many sisters. Not until they were sure you were serious. So you got me.” 

Momentarily distracted by the cooing baby on his shoulder Mihali missed the look on Inanna’s face until he turned in his soft rocking to see her staring at him cooly, “You are not an acceptable loss in this household, Paveros. They may undervalue your worth but we do not. Besides. Nobody who is as good with my daughter as you are is anything other than immensely valuable. I do hope you’ll still be around when they grow old enough to appreciate you.” 

Blushing Mihali ducked his head to nuzzle Kala softly, the snakes caressing her, “I’ll be around as long as you have need of me, your ladyship.” 

Inanna laughed and nodded her head towards the door, ‘Come help me put these two back to bed and you can return to your pizza and whatever strange salted fish my Pirate King brought your hair. We’ll have to cure you of this ‘your ladyship’ nonsense as well. At least when it’s just the two of us. You’re part of the family now.” 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever been given a greater honor. 

[spilledreality]

Engineering doctrines

Cappelen and Plunkett open their 2018 paper “A Guided Tour of Conceptual Engineering and Ethics,” with a quote from Nietzsche’s Will to Power:

Philosophers … have trusted in concepts as completely as they have mistrusted the senses: they have not stopped to consider that concepts and words are our inheritance from ages in which thinking was very modest and unclear. … What dawns on philosophers last of all: they must no longer accept concepts as a gift, nor merely purify and polish them, but first make and create them, present them and make them convincing. Hitherto one has generally trusted one's concepts as if they were a wonderful dowry from some sort of wonderland: but they are, after all, the inheritance from our most remote, most foolish as well as most intelligent ancestors. …What is needed above all is an absolute skepticism toward all inherited concepts.

It’s a good reminder that this diseasing of 20th century philosophy—its mixture of “functional monism” (the conceit of a one-to-one relationship between handles and reality) and “classical concepts” (as having sufficient and necessary conditions)—was not a universal affliction. It appears most of the century’s “great” thinkers grasped it as a problem far ahead of broader adoption or articulation. Dewey’s pragmatism is a de facto solution to verbal and frame dispute and thus an acknowledgment of terms’ untethering from wordly structures; Wittgenstein anticipates cognitive science by half a century; and Nietzsche writes in Twilight of Idols of a man “stuck in a cage, imprisoned among all sorts of terrible concepts.” Carnapian explication is undergoing a 180-degree revision, no longer considered defeated by Quine as previously assumed.

One enticing part of the Nietzsche quote, in my mind, is its comparison to the “mistrusted” senses. It would be egregious had philosophy not learned until recently to distinguish between the world as it is and the world as it is apprehended by our senses; I’d like to suggest that philosofolly’s previous conception of language and concepts is equally egregious.

There are so many causes of messy handles that even a cursory examination of the process by which humans invent and disseminate them subverts any modeling of them as “tidy” or monistic. But I’d like to introduce one frame, adapted from NNT: the Procrustean bed, where bad carvings—simplifications or Platonifications—amputate important parts of the whole, or else “stretch” it to fit a desired factoring. (Procrustes is a mythical figure who would lop off or stretch out his guests' limbs in his home, so they would perfectly fit his bed.) It’s a barbarism masquerading as hospitality, so to speak. Think of the game of telephone, or Chinese whispers, by which each successive adapter unconsciously and consciously “stretches” or “amputates” the term as learned to fit with his models and experience of reality.

But now we have these garbage bins of concepts, and Cappelen & Plunkett want to improve them—engineer them. Construction has a rich vocabulary here that might diversify “engineering”: retrofit, renovate, refurbish, remodel, all of which have meaningfully distinct denotations. Perhaps someone will adopt them, but for now, the core questions of conceptual engineering, to C&P:

How ought we assess concepts, both in determining which existing concepts need engineering, and, once engineered, whether the new formulations are improvements over predecessors?

How important is the genealogy, or history, of a concept in making engineering decisions?

Expanding on the first question, what sorts of defects might our representational devices (“handles”) possess? The pair present:

Cognitive defects (which distort reasoning)

Moral or political defects (which undermine our values)

Theoretical defects (which undermine philosophical progress)

Semantic defects (incoherence or incompleteness)

While the entailments of #2 and #4 are very clear to me, the odd-numbered items are less so. I could suggest that the “all under one roof” problem of conflation and linguistic over-burdening is one of the central failure sources of conceptual disputes, but perhaps this is a “cognitive” or “theoretical” defect. Similarly, I would point to back-coherence (in the sense of preserving genealogy) as holding back concepts from being their best selves; still, I can’t pretend that maintaining the coherence of historical texts via such a historical continuity is unimportant.

(Sidenote: One core divide C&P attempt to grapple with is externalism or internalism, but until presented with a compelling argument otherwise, I’ll consider, in the spirit of “generalized compatibilism,” these stances as perfectly congenial in their abstract formulations. Internalism, C&P write, is the view that a concept or utterance’s “meaning depends on facts about” what’s inside an individuals “head”; externalism holds that “meaning is determined at least in part by facts having to do with the history of linguistic usage, or complex use patterns over time, or the judgments of experts.” I’ll classify this as a verbal dispute similar to literary theory’s Meaning Wars: it is clearly the case that the models in people’s “heads” [and bodies] are built from external norms and histories, and that there is both a descriptive fact about the society’s aggregate usage and the individual’s neural interpretation, and that the only source of contention at play is which of these ought to be called a concept’s “meaning.” Crucially, if two people or groups in contention don’t refer to the same “thing” in thingspace, they’re not having a disagreement; they’re talking past each other. Social meaning and individual meaning are clearly different “things”—or more accurately, “processes”—both clearly real.)

But I’m getting off-track: I want to talk about two doctrines I’d propose as crucial for any would-be conceptual engineer. There are plenty of smaller considerations which the current literature neglects; one is the metaphorical fabric which holds our concepts together and forms an important axis of meaning; the other is the linguistic conquests constantly performed on language, and the way these refactorings create variability in the field of meaning. But these addendums can come later; for now:

The doctrine of non-intervention. Concepts should—in part because they can only, with any efficacy—be engineered locally. Only locals know the affordances of their specific use cases. Philosophers ought to engineer philosophical concepts, but leave fishing concepts to the fishermen. Engineering-on-behalf ought only provide possibilities for bottom-up adoption; it should never limit possibilities by top-down imposition.

The illumination doctrine. Concepts should help illuminate the world, but never obscure it. This is especially important in ameliorative or ethical-political projects.

The non-intervention doctrine is partly an attempt to prevent the failures of “high modernism,” or “systemism,” or “overhaulism” (James Scott’s, John Gall’s, and Ari Holtzman’s terms, respectively). In areas of vast complexity, such as the intersection of language and human psychology, unknown nth-order effects dominate the landscape of consequences. Most recently, this hubristic approach was found in the behavioral economics of Kahneman and Tversky, who made grand, rationalistic claims about local domains like profession basketball, of which they knew absolutely nothing, naively supposing that the local expertise and folklore of these domains were merely riddled by cognitive biases (as opposed to having been weeded out based on what “works”—e.g. the hot hand “fallacy”). Perhaps the surest safeguard against the failures of overhaulism is allowing local communities to freely adopt those terms which work for them, and freely ignore those which don’t. To the would-be conceptual engineer I say: model and advocate, but never impose.

The illumination doctrine is founded on an ethics of accuracy. There is much danger in normative, ethics-based, “activistic” linguistic meddling. When top-down imposed, such conceptual engineering projects are well-known to us via writers like Orwell. While individual engineers almost without exception believe that their individual intervention on language is for the greater good (in the great tradition of noble lies), limiting the thinkable ought to be viewed as assailing free speech. (Recall also that once a technology is utilized for one political end, a tacit allowance of a class of strategy has taken place, and the technology will be co-opted by the other side: victimhood and identity politics’ adoption by the right is a recent & relevant example.) Expressive liberties are premised not just on the ability to say, but on the existence of an expressive language which enable the sayable.

Both these doctrines join the doctrine of preserved ground discussed in a previous post on conceptual engineering. There I distinguished between two types of linguistic “conquests” that re-carve the language, seeing the “divide and conquer” method as healthier for the language, in the long run, than the “narrow and conquer” approach:

First, the narrow and conquer method, where a specific sub-sense of a concept is taken to be its "true" or "essential" meaning, the core which defines its "concept-ness." To give an example from discourse, Taleb defines the concept rationality as "What survives, period." The second style I termed divide and conquer, where multiple sub-senses are distinguished and named in an attempt to preserve all relevant sub-senses while also gaining the ability to talk about one specific sub-sense. To give an example from discourse, Yudkowsky separates “rationality” into “epistemic rationality”—the pursuit of increasingly predictive models which are "true" in a loose correspondence sense—and “instrumental rationality”—the pursuit of models which lead to in-the-world flourishing, e.g. via adaptive self-deception or magical thinking—rationality as “what works.”

Conquests by narrowing throw out all the richly bundled senses of a concept while keeping only the immediately useful—it's wasteful in its parsimony. It leaves not even a ghost of these other senses' past, advertising itself as the original bundled whole while erasing the richness which once existed there. It leads to verbal disputes, term confusion, talking past each other. It impoverishes our language.

Division preserves the original, bundled concept in full, documenting and preserving the different senses rather than purging all but the one. It advertises this history; intended meaning, received meaning—the qualifier indicates that these are hypernyms of "meaning," which encompasses them both. Not just this, but the qualifier indicates the character of the subsense in a way that a narrowed umbrella original never will. Our understanding of the original has been improved even as our instrumental ability to wield its subsenses grows. Instead of stranding itself from discourse at large, the divided term has clarified discourse at large.

[plantanarchy]

do you think you could talk a little about being autistic? im wondering if i might be autistic and im still not sure bc i like pass as neurotypical rlly well so far and i thought it would help to hear about actual people's experiences. you don't have to though and im sorry if this is weird!!

This has been in my inbox for a bit, I’m sorry! But yeah, I can talk about it. Keep in mind that everyone’s experience is different and its less of a “spectrum” from mild to severe/low to high functioning and more of a complex where different people have different experiences. A lot of people use functioning labels to dismiss the experience and opinions of “high functioning” folk when it comes to being autistic because tjey “don’t seem autistic” or “aren’t like those other low functioning autistic people”, but really “function” is relative and can even change day to day… on someone’s bad days they could be totally nonverbal rocking back and forth and on good days pass better at neurotypical than I do…

Ok so, I was diagnosed with Aspergers when I was ~10. I was essentially non-verbal in school and other high stress social situations and had been since I was very very young. This was interpreted as “very shy!” despite me having severe difficulty from a young age in saying anything at all to teachers, doctors, church people, even many of my peers, etc and often feeling like i was physically unable to speak but you know… because I spoke at home and with my neighborhood friends, I wasn’t considered non-verbal at all. Or I guess selective mutism is the correct term which is something I definitely still struggle with. Like when I was in middle school, I spent a few years literally being known by my mom’s friends and by some people at school as “Meep” because thata fuckin all I could physically say when somebody tried to talk to me haha

BUT ok that got away from me, point being: i was diagnosed with Aspergers at a young age which is a diagnosis that no longer exists/has been absorbed into the greater Autism diagnosis. Aspergers was separate for a long time because it was basically used to say “these kids are high functioning and different than those low functioning non communicative kids!”. Basically because I had most of the “cool and good” autism traits, my “not as cool and kinda crippling” autism traits and needs got shoved aside and essentially ignored for a long, long time. Which I think happens to a lot of kids! Even to the point of not getting a diagnosis at all or getting a wrong diagnosis and only realizing later in life what may be going on and what was missed.

Whoops before this becomes a bitter tangent, back to my experience of autism I guess. Ok, so on top of still being selectively verbal/mute (some days are worse than others and sometimes it isn’t even directly anxiety related it’s just a mostly mute day), my other symptoms include 1) it’s almost physically painful to make eye contact with anyone 2) formal social situations are beyond me, I never know what is correct or what’s coming next and usually I survive informal social situations by cracking jokes and making weird references to shit or being obnoxious and just accepting the label of “weird ass obnoxious kid but that’s just bre” 3) usually feel like I’m just two steps away from understanding what’s going on in some social situations lol like sometimes i have good intuition, can read people, can guess at what they’re thinking and then something happens that makes me question my entire interpretation of the situation and I realize maybe I wasn’t reading them correctly the whole time!!!! It’s the social equivalent of being the only one to get a wrong answer on a math problem and frantically rechecking your work lol 4) sensory overload yayyyyy when too many things happen at once (which can be like… 2 thing), I zone out and feel like my environment is unreal or blurry (fun and cool dissociation) and I can never predict what will cause that overload or when but also a lot of people have the very dramatic “autistic child screaming from sensory overload” image in their brain and thats not always accurate… my overload results in shut down 5) also along with that, I have sensory issues such as texture, sounds, etc. Certain fabrics as a kid would legit make me cry if I touched them or if my mom made me wear them (WINDBREAKERS ARE SENSORY HELL) and that still happens lol also with stuff like… chewing sounds, shoes that touch my toes in any way, loud music/bass, etc 6) along with that and with sensory overload… stimming. Stimming is basically a self-regulatory response to overwhelming stimuli and plenty of non-autistic people also do similar things when faced with high anxiety situations. Like foot jiggling, pencil tapping, nail biting, pencil chewing, etc it’s basically a soothing compulsion and not always something many autistic people can control without great effort and that control comes at the cost of not regulating anxieties or sensory overload well. I’ve got and always have had a lot of verbal/language stims and am very reptitive in my speech and writing patterns (y'all and lad anyone???) which is kinda self soothing. I have literally always had catchphrases. When im on my own i also do rock baxk and forth and other repititive body motions, also fidgeting with objects, especially cool round objects 7) catalog all the useless info in my brain!!! I can memorize information very well (not numbers though) and when I was a kiddo that got me labelled as #gifted and I was “savant” level in reading and writing but that is less cool and fun to people than beinf a math or science savant or something. 8) anyway related to that, as evidenced by this blog, I get VERY INVESTED in certain topics/ “special interests” to the point that it eclipses all other thoughts in my brain yay!!! Which isn’t a bad thing, I mean it gets me through and also if you have “good” special interests, people think you’re smart and interesting and ask your advice about stuff lol

Symptoms I don’t have that a lot of people think of when they think of an autistic person 1) I am horrendous at math I fuckin hate it numbers are the devil!!!!!! 2) 99% of my humor is sarcasm and I can understand it and figures of speech lol though sometimes i do get it wrong if i can’t read you otherwise 3) I don’t have “zero empathy”, I can feel for the plights of others VERY strongly, and can usually see any (most) POVs if it’s explained to me

There are others probably and there are certainly autistic people who have thise traits and who have different traits than I have. There are LOADS of different ways to be autistic. But also, there’s a lot of overlap between autism and between other things like ADHD, anxiety disorders, etc! So keep that in mind. Some people are strongly anti-selfdiagnosis of autism but knowing how easy it can be for kids who don’t present 100% stereotypically to slip through the cracks, I am all for it. I pass a lot of the time as neurotypical and can do most society things ok, though I have a steep learning curve compared to others… and with passing as neurotypical comes the frequent dismissal of my opinion on autism related topics and the lack of acknowledgement that actually I often DON’T pass as neurotypical and at those times my lack of passing is interpreted as rudeness, deliberate lack of effort on my part, stubbornness, lack of intelligence, lack of professionalism, an assumption that I’m angry with someone or don’t like them, etc etc. It’s an endless, awful cycle!

And I don’t really have too much personal advice for figuring out if you’re autistic or not… I did go through a point in time where despite being diagnosed I strongly denied that I was autistic and kind of had to come back to that as a near adult and realize nope… definitely autistic. And then knowing what to do with that info once youve figured it out is just… I mean there’s not much. There are little to no resources for autistic adults, very few support groups made up of autistic people and led by autistic people, very little resources directed at autistic people themselves in general, usually the focus is on the parents or guardians and talk aboit autistic people as abstract concepts… whoops, can you tell I’m bitter haha gonna end this before I go full “mental health professionals failed me and I’m a mess” etc

[theflynnstitute]

An Open Letter: Marriage Equality and MSHS

Dear Kerry and all Staff at Manjimup SHS,

I hope this letter finds you well. For those who may not recognise my name, I am an alumnus of MSHS, past Dux of School ‘09, Head Boy 2009, student representative on the School Board 2008-2009, and all round advocate for the quality public schooling that MSHS provides its students. I certainly would not be where I am today without the investment that MSHS and its superb teaching and support staff placed in me during my time there. And where is that? I’m currently completing my Doctor of Medicine and Masters of Public Health at the Melbourne Medical School and University of Melbourne’s School of Population and Global Health, with a view to practicing medicine in rural and remote Australia. However, I am not writing to you to tell of the 8-year adventure that has been my life following graduation from your fine institution. Rather, I am writing to express my concern over the current debate that is occurring on the issue of same-sex marriage, and the effect that this debate may be having on current MSHS students. I appreciate that this is a contentious issue for many people, and I respect that there will be a range of opinions within the MSHS community on this topic. While I will be sharing some personal anecdotes to illustrate how I have reached my own stance on this issue, my primary objective is the well-being and support of all students at Manji High. I moved to Manjimup just before the end of my 5th year in primary school. I distinctly remember my first recess break at Manji Primary, sitting with a group of new classmates as a nervous city-slicker kid, who had moved to the country to start a new chapter. Not even 2 hours into my first day at school, and I was called a ‘poofter’ by a boisterous young classmate, much to the enjoyment of the rest of the boys in the group. I didn’t even know what a poofter was, and so laughed along with the joke that was my presumed sexuality. I soon learnt that poofter was not something I wanted to be called… and so began a decade long journey of suppression and denial, the ramifications of which I still deal with today. I do not wish to portray Manjimup or MSHS as a particularly homophobic place, or community. Overall, I think that my experience growing up in Manji was a good one, and certainly has contributed in a positive way, to shaping me into the man I am today. However, like many towns across rural and regional Australia, homophobia in Manjimup was present, and was something that I had to deal with growing up in that place. More pertinent to the objectives of this letter however, are my experiences as a young, closeted, queer student at MSHS. Academically, the level of support I received at MSHS was outstanding and served as a superb foundation for both my undergraduate and postgraduate studies. However, lying behind the narrative of good academic achievement I experienced at MSHS lies a more insidious story of homophobic abuse that I experienced at the hands of my peers. “Faggot”, “poofter”, “pansy”, “homo”, “gay-boy”, “pillow-biter” were all terms that were occasionally used to refer to me in the school-yard. I was told to perform lewd homosexual acts by some of my male classmates, and on several occasions I was intimidated physically, even with teachers present in the room. Needless to say, there were numerous occasions where I did not feel safe at MSHS. While I have little doubt that these experiences contributed to the anxiety that I deal with today, I consider myself lucky to say that I survived high school relatively psychologically unscathed. The friendships that I formed at MSHS served as my haven, and it was these individuals who accepted me for the person who I was without question or suspicion, and supported me and shared in my high school journey. Of course, there were social support resources available at the school during my time there, and perhaps people will criticize me for not accessing these resources. The reality is, I did not feel safe, nor justified in accessing support from the school counsellor or chaplain. I existed in an environment that told me that what I was, was abnormal, and the treatment I was experiencing was simply a natural consequence of the ‘affliction’ I was suffering from, and something that I had to endure in silence. In some ways, I feel my devotion to my academic studies was a compensatory mechanism for the supposed homosexual flaw in my underlying character. Over the course of my university studies, I have become increasingly concerned with social justice, and in particular how it relates to health. My decision to undertake a masters of public health is emblematic of this. Public health is a discipline of health science that is concerned with the prevention of disease, disability and suffering through interventions that occur at a population level. Many who work in the public health arena speak of taking an “upstream” approach, where one assesses the broader social, political, and economic determinants that have contributed to whatever health issue Is being examined. Mental Health and suicide is an important health issue for all of Australian society, but is also one that disproportionately affects the LGBTIQA+ community. LGBTI Australians aged 16 years and over are 5-11 times more likely to attempt suicide; 16-18 times more likely to experience suicidal ideation; 2-6 times more likely to self-harm; and twice as likely to be diagnosed with a mental health condition, when compared to the general Australian population[1]. And what is fueling these disastrous outcomes? Homophobia. Be it personal, interpersonal, institutional, or cultural, homophobia creates environments where queer individuals (and even people who are simply perceived to be queer) are attacked physically and verbally, are made to question and defend their own validity, and are expected to see themselves as second class, and less deserving of the rights and privileges that are attached to being heterosexual. While personal and interpersonal homophobia is damaging and should be called out and dealt with, particularly in our schools, these acts are often the product of underlying institutional and cultural homophobia. And as a student of public health, I know that fighting this more insidious form of prejudice is where the real money is, if we have any hope of progressing Australia towards the more inclusive, “fair go” society that it professes itself to be. Policy and law, must play an important role in shaping cultural and institutional perceptions of what is acceptable and unacceptable in our secular society. In doing so, they in-turn function to mold individual perceptions, particularly for our young people. This is why the marriage equality debate is so important to me, and why I will be voting YES for marriage equality. As a young person growing up in a rural community, the concept of even being in a same-sex relationship was not something I was privy to. It wasn’t until I reached undergraduate studies at UWA that I began to explore concepts outside heteronormativity, and even then, it was a number of years until I decided to come out to my friends and family. Having marriage equality will allow young, closeted and openly-queer teenagers to see that there are options for them to have their love and relationships celebrated in the same way that their straight friends and family members do. It will help to fuel a culture of acceptance, that embraces diversity and values the collective strength of a diverse nation. While I do think that marriage equality is an inevitable legislative end, it in no way justifies the means by which our current Federal Government is using to achieve it. Using a $122 million, non-binding, non-representative postal survey to inform government policy is unprecedented, and is an example of the institutional homophobia I mentioned earlier. Homophobia that expects myself and other queer individuals to sit by while the rest of the country ”respectfully debates” the validity of our relationships, and whether we should be granted the same rights under Australian law. Because make no mistake, the campaign for same-sex marriage is not just about the label of “Marriage”. Our illustrious former PM Mr. Abbott would have us believe that same-sex couples already have the same rights under civil union legislation, however it only takes a quick google search to find the flaws in that argument. Same-sex couples experience a deficiency in rights in all manner of ways from carer-rights, Medicare and the pharmaceutical benefits scheme, to tax concessions, employee rights and superannuation [2]. The fight for same-sex marriage is a fight for these rights. The debate that has been occurring on this issue has been undeniably toxic. The ‘Honorable’ Mr. Turnbull continues to harp on about the ability of the Australian public to have a respectful debate, yet seems blind to reality of what is actually occurring. While I acknowledge that majority of Australians are capable of having a perfectly civil discussion around this issue, thanks to social media and the current speed of the media cycle, much of the content we are seeing relating to this debate is extreme, vitriolic, and often uninformed. And while I do not purport to say that the NO campaign hold exclusive claim over the extreme views seen in this debate, I do believe that it is these extreme views that sell newspapers and website clicks, and ultimately hinder our ability to have civil discussion. It is these extreme, and widely publicised views that have real ramifications for the queer community. I can say without a shadow of a doubt that the past 12 months has been the most concentrated period of homophobia that I have experienced in my (relatively short) life. Not direct homophobia, although I have been accused of spreading hate speech simply for expressing my support of same-sex marriage, but more indirect homophobia. Having to see nasty and vitriolic comments on social media, listening to hateful and ill-informed rhetoric on national news bulletins, watching TV ads that tell me I am advocating for pedophilia and radical gender theory in classrooms. This all has power. Words have power, and we (the queers) of all people know the power of words. I have seen many colleagues withdraw from social media over the course of this campaign to protect themselves from the hateful vitriol. I myself have decided to remain engaged, but have also felt the need to seek professional support during this period. And if I am finding it tough to deal with the day to day commentary that is happening in this debate, imagine what our queer youth are going through. I believe that school should be a safe haven. Not necessarily apolitical, as I believe that our youth are our dreamers and visionaries, capable of imagining a future that is better than the present, and politics is an important part of this. However, growing up these days is difficult enough without the added pressure of dealing with this ongoing debate. And it’s not just queer youth we should be concerned about. Many straight-identifying young people also support same-sex marriage, have friends that identify as queer and are having an equally distressing time having to deal with the ongoing commentary that is occurring in homes, playgrounds and other spaces around the country. I really do urge the MSHS community to draw together during this time to support all its students. While I cannot attest to the current socio-political atmosphere of MSHS or the broader Manjimup community, I do strongly urge all individuals to call out homophobia, or any other type of prejudice or discrimination as completely unacceptable. Acknowledge the divisiveness of this debate and the effects it may be having on individuals, especially our queer youth. Give people the space to express their feelings openly, and if there must be debate within the school environment, ensure that it is respectful and factually informed. Student support systems must be proactive in addressing this issue and ensuring that MSHS strives towards being an environment that is respectful and inclusive of all individuals, regardless of sexuality, race, gender, social status, physical or intellectual ability. I would love to hear what initiatives MSHS has put in place to support LGBTIQA+ students, and to hear how the school community is going in general. I am also more than happy to be contacted by any staff or students who are seeking support around this issue, or would simply like to discuss the topic or share their insight. I hope this letter has been relevant and informative to the MSHS experience, and I hope that it contributes in a constructive way to the progression of a discussion around how MSHS can best support all its students and strive towards a culture of respect, diversity and inclusion.

Sincerely yours,

Sebastian Kirby MSHS Fan-boy

[1]

The Statistics at a Glance: The Mental Health of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender and Intersex People in Australia Accessible at [http://lgbtihealth.org.au/statistics/]

[2] Same-Sex: Same Entitlements Report, Australian Human Rights Commission  available at [https://www.humanrights.gov.au/publications/same-sex-same-entitlements-executive-summary]

[flynncenter]

Silence, Strength, and Subversion

By Cammie Finch, Vermont College of Fine Arts

A review of Candoco Dance Company, who performed February 22 on the Flynn MainStage.

The lights dim and the audience holds our breath. The stage is blank and bare, save for a swatch of a rainbow projected against one side. We wait for an uncomfortable amount of time. There is no music. Someone’s stomach is gurgling. Someone coughs. We listen to each other’s breaths, wondering if the show has been delayed.

And then a man walks out. He is tall and lanky—at least 6’5”. He wears a loose singlet, jean shorts. He stands still and looks out at us. The music refuses to cover this awkward silence. One of the man’s arms culminates at a stub where an elbow used to be. We wonder where we should look. There is no music; only the sound of bare feet on the stage and the sound of the dancer’s breath.

He begins to move. He dances robotically at first before shifting into more fluid brushes. Gradually, another dancer adds to the space. Then another, until all seven core dancers of the London-based Candoco company share the stage. They are dressed casually, as if for a neon Adidas ad. Is that the scratching of a vinyl record we hear in the background? The sound lulls us into a false sense of comfort. Two dancers slink close to each other, their movements mimicking the fearless magnetism of an ignited affair. One dancer lies on the ground, breathless like a corpse. Another dancer flips upside down and holds himself up in an acrobatic handstand; the weight of his wheelchair balanced atop him. Then comes the organized chaos, as if a technician in the wings has turned the dial to full volume.

What looked to be a moment of intimacy between two dancers turns suddenly violent. They choke each other. They bite each other’s limbs. Two people grab a dancer away from her crutches, hold her up, and parade her around the stage. She screams for help, but the other dancers do not pay attention. They stand blind as bystanders. The dynamic and political lyrics by the Brandt Brauer Frick Ensemble add to the fraught and feral nature of this scene.

This is Face In, the first half of Candoco’s repertoire for tonight, choreographed by Yasmeen Godder. This is a conversation (or perhaps a battle) between the Id and the Ego, between impulse and control, passion and aggression, stillness and action, beauty and ugliness. This is a world where crutches can grow into phalluses; where faces can show pain and passion at once; where beauty can exist in the sound of a graceful exhalation; where the strength in a moving body can be exquisitely showcased.

During intermission, the audience closes our jaws, wipes away our sweat. We reset ourselves from the shock of experiencing a dance we never knew existed before. We wonder what could possibly follow in the second act. My friend and I sit together in silence, unable to speak about what we have just witnessed. Finally, she turns to me and says: “Every time I watch a dance performance, I think about how strong the human body is.” Yasmeen Godder’s sequence not only displays this particular troupe’s physical talents; it highlights the intricacies of the human mind. How strong we are to keep venturing in a world that seems to push and pull us from all directions.

Without dimming the lights, the curtains rise again. The set has changed. It is also stark—a few chairs, an exposed brick wall. What follows is the carefully scripted sketch by visual artist, Hetain Patel. Let’s Talk About Dis was first created in 2014, specifically for Candoco to perform. Throughout the creation process, Patel sat down with each of the dancers and interviewed them, not as dancers but as people. He then used passages from the interviews and wove them together as a seamless text to be performed.

While much of the piece is verbalized, a few dance sequences are integrated throughout, as well as speech conveyed with British Sign Language. I would have loved to see more dance in this second half, mostly because I was floored by the first half of the show, but the second half had its own charm, and even a bit of comedy.

The two halves of the show work together to fully communicate Candoco’s mission as a company. Yes, they are first and foremost dancers. But they also are advocates for diversity of all kinds. Candoco takes pride in its internationality, welcoming dancers from countries such as Brazil, Denmark, England, USA, and France. Along with sign language, the dancers speak in their native languages to us (with an English translation provided).

Dance, too, is a kind of translation. A way to show emotion and tell stories without verbal language. A way to explore various identities through movement. But don’t think for a second that Candoco is afraid to speak out loud about the tough stuff.

At one point of Let’s Talk About Dis, a dancer grabs the microphone and tries to speak over the other dancers, who happen to be singing a myriad of choral sounds. They attempt again and again to interrupt her. “We won’t stop talking about dis until we don’t have to talk about it,” she says. By “dis,” she means that everyone, the dancers and the audience, know that the human eye is drawn to difference—difference in bodies, in language, in appearance, in ability—and that this company is not going to stay silent about it. As an organization specifically designed for disabled and non-disabled people to dance together, they will continue to empower each other for who they are and what they love to do.

After all, they are Candoco—and they can do anything.