#elite americana

[punkitt-is-here]

Man I know I'm bitching about this a lot but I think the complete degradation of the satire and edge of the fallout series over time makes me so mad. The first game literally has an occupying American soldier shooting a Canadian protester dead right there in the opening to let you know the game's stance towards the military and the US as a whole; it's a biting attack on the jingoistic, war-and-profit loving country the US was, rooted in reality. It immediately forces the player to recognize the US (especially in this setting) were not heroic, patriotic do-gooders, but violent, colonizing bastards who blew up the world over chasing a white-picket-fence dream. "War never changes" is about the futile nature of war, the repeating cycles of violence and corruption, the very principles of fighting your fellow man never changing over time. It is always abhorrent, it is always messy, it is always reprehensible, and it is always done for the self interest of the elite in some way. Men do not die for their country, they simply die. Contrasting that with the opening of Fallout 4, which seems to idolize the military and pre-war America, is fucking baffling. You have those white picket fences, those perfect nuclear families, and "war never changes" is stretched like an Animorph cover from a harsh condemnation of the violent cycles the world is put through to a patriotic, watered down idea that war is inevitable and so are heroes. There's no fucking edge to how Fallout 4 remembers the country that ended the world; it gleefully eats up the Americana iconography, sanding down every edge that could make the player even consider that the US in the world of Fallout is meant to be our US taken to a logical extreme, instead revelling in patriotic clothes and ideals and icons while the entire basis of the franchise was built on satirizing and critiquing that exact blind patriotism. It drives me insane that these two completely ideologically different games are under the same roof and that one of them fell for the exact propaganda the first game was satirizing in the first place.

[irlpretear]

100 more trans/genderqueer musicians

a pt.2 to my last post

Bands

Problem Patterns (riot grrl) (x)

Et On Tuera Tous Les Affreux (hardcore punk) (x)

Speedy Ortiz (indie rock) (x)

Foxtails (punk rock) (x)

Come To Ruin (deathrock) (x)

Arabella (hardcore punk) (x)

Flummox (metal) (x)

Dream Sequence (emo, post-hardcore) (x)

Escuela Grind (grindcore, metal) (x)

Buggin (hardcore punk) (x)

The Aquadolls (indie rock) (x)

Vile Creature (black metal) (x)

Caustic Soda (punk) (x)

Go! Child (indie pop) (x)

Tribe 8 (punk rock) (x)

SeeYouSpaceCowboy (hardcore punk) (x)

NARC (hardcore punk, sludge violence) (x)

BRAT (hardcore punk) (x)

[ctrl] (power violence) (x)

Strawberry Milk Cult (punk rock) (x)

.gif from god (metal) (x)

CyberGirlfriend (indie rock) (x)

Vermin Vendetta (metal) (x)

Pretty Frankenstein (glam goth) (x)

Doll Chaser (punk) (x)

RENT STRIKE (folk punk) (x)

Tears for the Dying (goth rock) (x)

Himbo (math rock) (x)

Out of Sight (hardcore punk) (x)

Morta (metal) (x)

Girlpool (indie rock) (x)

Life of Agony (metal) (x)

Mashrou' Leila (indie rock) (x)

Basketball Divorce Court (post punk) (x)

Bad Waitress (art punk) (x)

Rural Internet (hip hop, electronic) (x)

The Crystal Furs (indie pop) (x)

Blind Tiger (hardcore metal) (x)

Atomic Broad (punk) (x)

tote bag (tender punk) (x)

Pansy Prep (indie rock, emo) (x)

UT/EX (metalcore, screamo) (x)

Your Heart Breaks (indie pop) (x)

Yam (punk rock) (x)

K's Choice (rock, alt pop) (x)

Elderberry Industries (noise, synth) (x)

Qi.x (kpop) (x)

The Mermerings (folk punk) (x)

Refractory Period (synthpop) (x)

fenix (rock) (x)

Solo Artists

Tape Girl (hyperpop, ska) (x)

Titica (kuduro, pop) (x)

Lauren Bousfield (synth punk) (x)

Liniker (r&b) (x)

TRVDWIFE (grindcore, cybergrind) (x)

Stomach Book (electronic, indie rock) (x)

Coyote Grace (bluegrass) (x)

Jake Zyrus (r&b, soul) (x)

D'Nayzja (hyperpop, electronic) (x)

Adeem the Artist (country) (x)

Renee Goust (pop, cumbia) (x)

Linn Da Quebrada (club, Brazilian funk) (x)

The Reverent Marigold (folk) (x)

Çağla Akalın (arabesque) (x)

Jessie Chung (Malaysian pop) (x)

Spike Fuck (post-punk, smackwave) (x)

Shea Diamond (soul, r&b) (x)

Vivek Shraya (pop, dance) (x)

Mocchi (folk, alt rock) (x)

SuperKnova (indie pop) (x)

Creep-P (hyperpop) (x)

Aljas (rap) (x)

Sylvia Baudelaire (rap) (x)

London Jade (hip-hop, rap) (x)

Susy Shock (tango) (x)

Slugwife (hyperpop) (x)

Jupiter Fiction (singer-songwriter) (x)

Mrs. Yéyé (punk) (x)

Lady Charles (glam rock) (x)

Mily Taormina (indie) (x)

Dope Saint Jude (rap, hip-hop) (x)

Imbi the Girl (hip-hop, rap) (x)

187 (drum'n'bass) (x)

zombAe (experimental hip hop, electronic) (x)

The Official Bard of Baldwin County (folk) (x)

Skylar Rose Stravinsky (singer-songwriter) (x)

hard Tiddies (country, singer-songwriter) (x)

Bunny Danger (punk) (x)

Ataru Nakamura (pop) (x)

Anjimile (folk) (x)

Villano Antillano (rap, urbano) (x)

Lauren Auder (indie pop) (x)

Justin Vivian Bond (cabaret) (x)

Namoli Brennet (folk, indie rock) (x)

Mya Byrne (Americana, folk) (x)

Quinn Christospherson (indie rock) (x)

Jayne County (proto-punk, glam rock) (x)

Katie Dey (experimental pop) (x)

Electra Elite (electropop, dance) (x)

Quay Dash (hip-hop, rap) (x)

[fatehbaz]

[In] the making and unmaking of amphibious urban modernity in Recife in the Northeast of Brazil [...] the transformation of the city was predicated on [...] [a] notion of whiteness that required the enclosure of wet, amphibious space to make dry land. [...] Racialised groups – of black, indigenous, and mixed heritages – and the houses, marshlands, and mangroves where they lived, were subject to eradication [...]. [F]rom the 1920s to 1950s, during the rise to hegemony in Brazil of [a form of nationalism,] [...] [the] idea's heartland [was] the Northeast. This period gave birth to Brazilian urban modernity [...]. [F]orests, wetness, and the spectre of commonly held land were understood as threats to whiteness and its self-association with order, purity [...]. To answer the question of why the racial division of nature was so important, [...] turn to the hygienic, boundary-making practices of the Brazilian Estado Novo [...] [and its] eugenic visions [...].

Nature is deeply imbricated in the processes of white supremacy [...]. Recife is one of the largest cities in Brazil, and one of the oldest. [...] Recife is also a centre of Brazilian black culture [...]. One of the key sites in Brazil's slave and sugar trades [...], the city was [...] [a] hub. Many of these people lived in what came to be called mocambos, a word that designated an informal dwelling, but came to mean much more. The population of the mocambos included not only black Brazilians, but sertanejos from the backlands, black and indigenous caboclos, and others [...]. Enclosure was the crucial mechanism of this division.

---

The Recifense geographer Josué de Castro contended that the mangroves were a kind of commons [...]. Zélia de Oliveira Gominho (2012) characterises the city's transformation [from 1920 to 1950] through the oscillation between its twin faces of “mucambópolis” and Veneza Americana (the Venice of the Americas). [...]

Mocambos were seen as [...] the place where exploited labour was kept out of sight. [...] They were also [...] the inheritance [...] of the quilombo - the community of escaped slaves. [...]

Gilberto Freyre was perhaps the single most influential figure in producing this defining national myth in Brazil. In 1936, he wrote a book on the Mucambos do Nordeste [...]. Josué de Castro wrote very differently about the mangroves and mocambos. [...] He analysed Recife as “amphibious”: built half in and half out of the water [...]. When Josué de Castro [...] [wrote] in the early 1930s, the city was in the midst of political turbulence. As land values increased, the city expanded, and [...] [oppressive] politics intensified [...].

---

With the installment of the [...] [oppressive] Estado Novo regime in 1937, and its project of creating a “new man,” hygienist modernisation gathered speed. In July 1939, the proto-fascist administration [...] of Agamenon Magalhães, put in place by Getúlio Vargas' repressive Estado Novo, launched the Liga Social Contra o Mocambo (Social League Against the Mocambo, LSCM). The League emerged out of a tellingly named “Crusade” against the mocambos. [...]

Mocambos were characterised as repellent, unhygienic, and dangerous: “the mocambo which repels. The mocambo which is the tomb of a race … a sombre landscape of human misery … which mutilates human energy and annuls work [...].

The LSCM couched its civilisational, modernising mission in the conjuncture of techno-scientific discourses of medicine and planning with clear eugenic tones [...]. [T]he LSCM commissioned a fresh census of the 45,000 mocambos in the city. They brought the mocambos/mangroves into being as objects of knowledge on behalf of the economic elite and local, national, and international capital. In the 1923 census in Recife, “of 39,026 dwellings surveyed, 51.1% were considered ‘deficient’ mocambos.” [...]

---

These were the decades of the embranquecimento of the Brazilian population through public policies of immigration, miscegenation, and sterilisation [...]. This white supremacist ideology was inseparably a politics of nature. Magalhães wrote:

The idle life, the life that the income of the mocambos provides, is a life without restlessness and without greatness. It is a life of stagnant water. … [that] generates in its breast the venom of larvae, which are the enemies of life. Enemies of life, as are the mocambos and the sub-soil of cities, where the polluted waters contaminate pure waters, which come from the deepest layers of the earth. (Magalhães, 1939c, n.p.)

---

Attempts to “cleanse” the city functioned through a distinct process: aterramento, the making of land. [...]

Or as 1990s mangue beat [mangrove beat] musicians [...] put it, “the fastest way also to obstruct and evacuate the soul of a city like Recife is to kill its rivers and fill up its estuaries” [...]. This racial division of nature - in alliance with, bound up with, a racial division of space - facilitated the production of spacialised white supremacy.

---

All above text by: Archie Davies. "The racial division of nature: Making land in Recife". Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers Volume 46, Issue 2, pp. 270-283. First published 29 November 2020. [Bold emphasis and paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for teaching, commentary, criticism purposes.]

[hellohannie]

Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince | hjs

“𝙫𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙪𝙣 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮, 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪”

all you've ever wanted to do was graduate high school and get out of the small town you grew up in. that was until you met (and fell hopelessly in love with) joshua hong. part of the taylor swift x seventeen collection

♡ PLAYERS - joshua hong x f.reader

♡ WORD COUNT - 8.4K

♡ TAGS - high school au, cheerleader!reader, drum major!joshua, mutual pining, fluff, minor angst

♡ INSPIRATION - Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince by Taylor Swift

♡ NOTES - hi :) this is my first ever fic on tumblr! i write on other platforms , and i wanted to get a masterlist running on tumblr as well. also, this story takes place in a high school setting and revolves slightly around the american football season. however, for the purpose of the plot, we are going to pretend that state championships happen in april…lol

ok hope you enjoyyyyy :))))

Go! Fight! Win!

You stood on the sidelines, cheering as loud as you could. Your throat was burning, your legs aching, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins kept you from feeling it. It's the most important football game of the season. Not only is it the playoff game that would determine which high school would make it to the state championship, but it's also the night all the college scouts come to recruit seniors to join their teams the next year. 

As the senior cheer captain, the pressure was on to be perfect. With all eyes and cameras on you, this was your chance to get scouted by the most elite colleges in the nation. A scholarship to a coastal university is your only ticket out of the godforsaken town you live in. There was nothing holding you back.

Except...

"Touchdown, number 13 Choi Seungcheol!"

The sounds of students cheering, the announcer yelling, the scoreboard buzzing all faded away when the marching band began the play the school's fight song. The rest of your team members, along with the students in the bleachers, ran past you to rush the field, but you stood in your place, focused on something else.

Someone else.

All the way on the opposite end of the bleachers, in the designated band section, stood Joshua Hong. While his attention was on conducting the band, your attention was on him. He was beautiful, even in his stuffy uniform, with the wind blowing hair into his face. 

You'd loved Joshua since sophomore year, when you were just sixteen years old. It was the beginning of the spring semester, and he was a new transfer student. As the sophomore class rep for student council, you were asked to give him a tour. You remember being breathless when you first saw him, his soft features and doe eyes so inviting. 

"Hi, I'm Y/N, the sophomore class representative," you'd said, blood rushing to your cheeks when he smiled at you.

"I'm Joshua Hong, it's nice to meet you!"

He'd told you, as you gave him a tour of your school, that his parents moved here from Los Angeles. 

"From LA? Why would anyone want to move to middle of nowhere America when you could live in LA?" You were dumbfounded. All your life you'd wish to move out of your little town, so you couldn't imagine why anyone would want to move in. 

Joshua just shrugged. "I don't know, I think it's nice how everyone here knows each other. It feels warm and intimate in a way."

"You don't know anyone here though, aren't you upset you had to leave all your friends behind?" 

He turned to look at you, flashing you a smile that made his eyes turn into little crescent moons. Your heart stuttered to a stop. "I have you, so at least I have one friend here."

You decided then and there that maybe you could bear living in this town if Joshua lived here too. 

From that day forward, you'd meet up with Joshua after school every Friday. When it was cold, you'd meet him in one of the practice rooms in the music hallway. He'd play something on his guitar while you told him gossip about all your classmates. Once it started to get warm, you'd meet him under the big maple tree in the courtyard. 

If there was one thing Joshua loved most, it was music. You'd never seen him look as serene as he did when he played his guitar.

If there was one thing you loved most, it was Joshua.

When he was gone all summer visiting his family in South Korea, you felt empty. Of course you had other friends. You'd known the girls on the cheer team since you were children, cheering on the junior team together. Yet, no one understood you quite like Joshua. There were times when you'd sit under the maple tree and not say a word to each other. You'd do your homework while Joshua played, and you were the happiest you'd been all day. If you'd had a good day, Joshua would play happy music. If you'd had a bad day, Joshua would play somber music. If you'd had a stressful day, Joshua would play calming music. He could read you like the back of his hand, and you loved him more for it. 

It was no surprise to you when Joshua came back in the fall and joined the marching band. You were happy for him, ecstatic even, because this meant you'd be able to hang out with him at all the games. 

Or so you thought. 

You're not sure where you went wrong, but you and Joshua began to slowly drift apart. With classes getting harder, and you having cheer practice every day after school, you barely had time to talk to each other in the hallways, let alone meet up after school.

Then, one Friday in September, cheer practice got cancelled. While your teammates all rushed home to enjoy their evening off, you ran to the music hallway. You felt giddy as you approached practice room B and heard the familiar chords of Joshua's acoustic guitar. The thought of Joshua still going to your practice room, following your old routine, made your heart race. He still remembered. 

Your fingers just barely touched the door knob when you heard a voice, a female voice. Your blood ran cold. You peeked through the little window on the door of the practice room and saw a girl leaning over Joshua's shoulder, pointing at something on the paper in front of him. It was Kim Minhye, another student in the band. 

You took a step back, hand slipping from the door knob as you tried to blink away the tears gathering in your eyes. Of course Joshua had other friends, you wanted  him to have more friends. He was kind and charismatic, it would be impossible not to like him. Yet, it still hurt, knowing your guys's thing, was no longer yours. He was doing it with someone else.

From that day forward, you only ever saw Joshua like you did tonight, at football games. During the game, you focused on cheering, in hopes of catching the attention of a scout from a D1 school. At the end of every game, you'd turn and look at Joshua, and watch him do what he loved. You'd tell yourself that you'll always love him, even after you ran away from this town. 

When you got home and went to sleep, you'd dream of him. Except, in your dreams, he'd be running away with you. 

It was the first week of March. The weather was getting warmer and senior prom was steadily approaching. Ever since you'd met him, you wanted to go to prom with Joshua. However, you would've never anticipated the competition you would have. 

You'd be lying if you denied the popularity you had at school. As a top student who was involved in all sorts of extracurriculars and captain of the cheer team, it was a given that you'd have friends in nearly every circle. Now, Joshua's popularity was a shock, and that has nothing to do with his personality. It had everything to do with his antisocial tendencies. 

You could count on your right hand the people you'd consider Joshua's friends, and they were all in the band. Lee Jihoon, Kwon Soonyoung, and Choi Hansol were just as much in love with music as Joshua, so it was a given that they'd pull him into their circle. The only other person Joshua really interacted with was Kim Minhye, who was now also a drum major. 

Besides these four, Joshua never spoke to anyone else. That, however, didn't stop everyone else from wanting to speak with him. You supposed that when Joshua looked like he did, of course people would want to be friends with him. Wasn't that what you wanted when you met him two years ago?

The courtyard was alive with students after school, everyone wanting to soak in the first warm day you'd had in months before going home. As you walked, you noticed a crowd of people whispering and pointing. Curious, you walked in a direction that you hadn't been in so long, yet felt like second nature. 

There, below the maple tree, sat Joshua. 

There, like every other day, was a new girl, timidly asking Joshua to prom.

And there, once again, she was turned down by the Heartbreak Prince. 

It started the first week of February, the prom proposals. A girl from student council, Shin Nari, approached Joshua in the cafeteria during lunch. You envied her a bit, envied her bravery. She did something you wanted to do, but never could. That's why you felt bad for her when he turned her down. You thought it was obvious that Joshua would say no. Of course it was, because who else would he go with if not the girl he spent every day with, Minhye. Still, you couldn't blame Nari. This was Joshua. If you still had feelings for him, despite knowing he only had eyes for Minhye, why wouldn't anyone else. 

Since then, there was a new girl every day who would ask Joshua to prom, in hopes that she'd be the one to win over the Heartbreak Prince. Every day, another heart was broken. 

You stood there, watching as the girl walked away from the maple tree, brushing away tears. The students around you began to disperse, criticizing the girl for being naive enough to think she was the one Joshua wanted. Joshua went back to plucking his guitar, the newly growing maple leaves casting shadow patterns on his body and the ground around him. 

When Joshua was under the maple tree, he was always alone. You never understood why his friends never joined him. Instead, they'd sit at one of the benches nearby until Joshua joined them, at which point they'd leave together. Under the maple tree is the most peaceful place on campus, so it's a shame they never thought to experience it. 

You considered walking over and talking to Joshua. It had been so long since you'd heard his voice, it wouldn't hurt to just ask how he's been.

You're about to take a step forward when someone blocks your path. You glance up to see it's Seungcheol, one of your oldest friends. You and Seungcheol met in sixth grade, when your junior cheerleading team would cheer for his junior football team. Both of you shared a dream of becoming team captains when you were seniors, a dream you both achieved. 

"Hi Y/N," Seungcheol smiled, dimples pressing deep into his cheeks. 

"Hi Seungcheol, how are you?" You glanced down and noticed the single white rose he held in his hand.

Seungcheol responded to your question, but you didn't hear a single word as your mind drifted away. Joshua's mom adored roses, to the point where their house was surrounded by rose bushes. It's why Joshua's clothes always carried the scent of roses.

A hand waved in front your eyes and you jolted, looking up to see Seungcheol looking at you with worry. "Are you alright? I asked you something, but I don't think you heard me."

"Oh, I'm sorry Cheol," you replied, feeling guilty. "I think I just need to head home and rest. What it is that you wanted to ask me?"

It was only when Seungcheol extended the rose towards you that you realized what was happening. "I wanted to ask you if you'd be my date to prom."

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and one look at Seungcheol's shy smile was enough to make you wish the ground would just swallow you whole. "Cheol..."

"I've been wanting to ask you since freshman year. We've been friends for so long, it only makes sense that-" 

You couldn't bear to let him continue. "Seungcheol, I'm sorry," you cut him off, shaking your head. He looked at you, eyes wide in confusion. "I can't go with you."

You fisted your hands into the skirt of your dress, trying so hard not to just cave and say yes just to make him stop looking at you so hurt. 

"Why not?"

"You're really sweet and you're a great friend but," you turned your gaze to the grass below you to avoid looking at Seungcheol's expression. "I don't want to lead you on or give you false hope."

The silence was so long you had to look up to see what he was thinking. "Is there someone else you want to ask you?" His voice had dropped in pitch, face devoid of all emotion.

"Of course not!" you stammered, thrown off by the question. "Listen Cheol, I'm really, really sorry," you started to step back. "I just, I'm sorry." You turned and walked towards your car, eager to get home and out of this awful situation.

Seungcheol stood rooted in his spot, tightening his grip on the rose as his hands began to shake in anger. He knew you were lying. 

It was quick. So quick and reflexive that you probably didn't even realize you did it. Didn't realize that you took a quick glance over his shoulder when he asked you if you wanted someone else to ask you to prom. Seungcheol looked over his shoulder towards the maple tree. Towards the boy who you really wanted to ask you to prom. Towards Joshua Hong, who you didn't even realize was watching you wistfully as you walked away. 

When you got to school the next day, you looked for Seungcheol. You felt awful for lying to him and running away the day before. You owed him an explanation, and felt comfortable with telling him the truth. He was a close friend of yours after all. 

As you walked through the hallways, you felt eyes on you. As usual you smiled at your classmates as you walked by them, but today they didn't smile back. Instead they were glaring and whispering. It wasn't until you overheard what they were whispering that you realized they were talking about you.

She's such a bitch.

I can't believe she just pretends to be so sweet only to stab him in the back like that.

What a two faced liar. 

When you caught sight of your teammates, you rushed over. 

"Hey guys, do you know what's going on?" Your question was met with glares.

Dani, another senior on the team, scoffed. "You're kidding right? Just drop the act Y/N."

To say you were confused was an understatement. "What? What do you mean?"

"We know what you did to Seungcheol, the whole school knows," another girl responded, crossing her arms as she looked at you in disgust.

"Oh," you nodded in realization. "I know, I reacted horribly, that's why I wanted to find him and apologize. I feel like I owe him an explanation-"

"An explanation?" Dani asked, incredulously. "What explanation is there for using someone just to make someone else jealous?"

You paused, mouth open in shock at what Dani just said. "What?!"

Dani rolled her eyes, while some of the other girls in the group just scoffed and walked away. "Seungcheol told everyone the truth. That you guys had been dating since the summer, but you wanted to keep it lowkey until college admissions were in. Then when he told you that he got into UCLA and would go to college with you, you broke up with him and told him that the only reason you were with him was because you wanted Joshua, but you knew he'd turn you down."

By now, the hallway was dead silent, everyone listening in on your conversation with Dani.  

"You're nothing but a two faced liar. I can't believe I have to spend my last year cheering with a captain like you," Dani slammed her locker shut and walked away before you could respond. You stood frozen in shock, the students around you pointing and whispering until the bell rang and it was time to head to class. The sound jolted you out of your stupor and you went to class, simply going through the motions until the end of the day.

You were walking to your car when you noticed a figure leaning against it. It wasn't until you got closer that you realized it was Seungcheol. Quickly, you walked over, betrayal clear on your face as you asked, "Why did you tell everyone we dated and that I used you?"

Seungcheol smirked at you, still leaning against your car. "You lied to me Y/N. You told me you didn't want anyone else to ask you to prom, but you did. You wanted Joshua to ask you to prom."

You stiffened, "How did you kn-"

Seungcheol suddenly stood straight, bending over to meet your height. "The boys on the team all know I've liked you since freshman year. Do you know how humiliating it would be for me if they found out you turned me down for Hong? I couldn't let you ruin my reputation like that."

By now you were seething with anger. "So you ruined mine? I came to school today with the intention of telling you the truth because I thought you were my friend. How could you do this to me?" You were yelling, and people were staring, but you didn't care. 

"Oh please," he scoffed. "You should be thanking me, I did you a favor. You think the Heartbreak Prince would make an exception for you?" He cooed, mockingly. "Besides there's only two months of school left. Who cares if your reputation is ruined, you've always wanted to run away from this town anyways. Now you've got nothing left to hold you back." He patted your head condescendingly before walking away.  

You stood by your car, waiting for everyone to leave your sight before turning and running away. A pair of doe eyes followed.

It's been years since you sat under the maple tree. While you used to sit under it and laugh, this time, you were crying. 

Seungcheol was right, there was nothing holding you back from leaving now. The only thing you cared about enough to keep you in this town was Joshua, but there's no way he'd ever want you back now. 

You sat in the shade, arms wrapped around your knees, head buried between them. You shoulders shook as you sobbed, your breath getting caught in your throat. It was then that you heard it. Music.

At first you thought it was your mind playing tricks on you. As if the ghost of memories past was lingering around the maple tree, playing back the music that used to bring you comfort. Then you heard the crunch of leaves under shoes. 

You looked up and your heart stuttered. Even the thick tears blurring your vision could never keep you from recognizing Joshua. He stood there in front of you, acoustic guitar hanging from his neck, his delicate fingers plucking at the strings. The sun formed a halo around his face from behind, and he looked as ethereal as ever. You dropped your head to your knees again, sobbing harder at the heartbreak and embarrassment you felt after seeing him. 

You felt some movement next to you, and suddenly, the air felt warmer, music louder. Joshua had sat next to you, leaning against the trunk of tree as he continued to play the guitar. For the next thirty minutes, Joshua was a steady presence next to you. He didn't stop playing until you turned to him, breathing finally evened out. You sniffled and rubbed at your swollen eyes while Joshua rummaged through his backpack. There was so much you wanted to say to him, but your throat choked up every time you tried.

Joshua handed you a pack of tissues and kindly looked away as you blew your nose and wiped your tears. "How can I help you?"

Despite it all, you couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh. Of course he didn't ask you something ridiculous like are you ok? or what's wrong? This was Joshua, who always knew the right thing to say. You think in a different circumstance, you would've felt endeared. 

"Are you sure you want to be seen sitting with me? I'm a liar and a snake after all," you looked down at your hands, chipping at the polish on your nails. 

Joshua considered you for a second. "Have you ever lied to me?"

Your eyes snapped towards him as you shook your head frantically. "Never!"

Joshua smiled, reaching out to pat your head. "Then yes, I want to be seen sitting with you. You were my first friend here Y/N. I'd never abandon you."

The whispers still followed you down the hallways, but you didn't care anymore. People called you names, said you were a bad person who used people to her advantage, but it didn't bother you. The students stared and pointed as you made your way to the maple tree that Friday. Your companion was waiting for you, guitar perched on his lap as he scribbled on some sheet music. 

Joshua looked up at you inquisitively, searching your face for something. When he found what he was looking for, he turned back to his guitar, playing an animated tune. You sat beside him and opened your notebook, working on your homework as Joshua played out your emotions for everyone who was eavesdropping.

She's happy, the chords announced. You couldn't help but smile, because he was right. For the first time since sophomore year, you truly felt happy again. 

Once again, you and Joshua fell back into your Friday afternoon routine. One Friday in mid-April, you sat under the maple tree alone. Usually Joshua was there before you, but for some reason, you beat him there this time.

You looked up as voices approached you, and you recognized the girl with Joshua as Minhye. Like always Minhye was a constant presence by Joshua's side and while the sight of them together made your heart clench with jealousy, you tried your best to will it away. After months without him, you were finally back to having Joshua as a friend. If that's the only way you could be with him in this lifetime, then so be it.

They stopped by the bench where the rest of Joshua's friends usually sat. Minhye quickly looked your way before turning back to Joshua. "So anyways, I just wanted to remind you about the scholarship audition. Don't forget to sign up for it."

Joshua nodded his assent before walking towards you. You gave him a quick smile as he sat down and unzipped his guitar case. 

"So...what was that about?" You asked, hesitantly. 

"Oh, it's nothing," he replied, quietly tuning the instrument in his lap. "The state university opened their scholarship portal for prospective music majors and Minhye was reminding me of the deadline."

You nodded, picking at the grass tickling your calves. "Ah, ok."

You paused. "Wait," you scrambled to your knees. "You got in??"

Joshua looked up at you, sheepishly, then nodded. 

You couldn't stop the squeal that made it's way out of your mouth. "Shua, oh my god! That's amazing." 

Before you could process your actions, you lunged at him, holding him tightly around his shoulders. The smell of fresh roses sent your heart racing again, and it wasn't until a few moments had passed that you realized Joshua wasn't hugging you back. 

You pulled away quickly and fell onto your butt, scooting back a bit for good measure. Joshua sat frozen, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. You on the other were apologizing profusely. 

"Joshua I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me, I-"

A warm hand took ahold of your forearm and yanked you back into Joshua's chest. This time, it was your turn to sit shock still as Joshua wrapped his arms around your waist. 

"Thank you," he whispered, his cool breath brushing past the shell of your ear. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you pulled away, looking every where but at Joshua. 

You listened intently as Joshua told you about the incredible music program the state school had to offer. You chanced a glance at him once, and it was probably one of the biggest mistakes you'd ever made. Joshua's eyes sparkled as if the galaxy was held in them. You steeled your resolve. You can't leave this town anymore, not if this is the only place Joshua wants to be. The scout from the state university would be at the championship game. You plan to impress her so much she'll sign that scholarship check then and there, even if it kills you.

It was the night of the state championship game, and for the first time since junior year, you dreaded going. You expected it all, the glares from the students, the whispers from your teammates, the mocking laughter from the football players, but it didn't hurt any less. Still, you led the cheers and did the stunts that were muscle memory by now. 

Your school won and you watched wistfully as your peers rushed the field. The football players lifted their teammates onto their shoulders while everyone hugged and cheered. That was you once before. Now, you walked towards your bag with your head hung, hoping to quickly put away all of your equipment and leave the field before drawing any attention. Unfortunately for you, you were still one of the most talented cheerleaders in the state, and you were still in the running for some major scholarships. 

"Y/N L/N!" You heard your name being called from behind. You turned to face the flock of news reporters, microphones thrusted in your direction. You were asked an endless amount of questions on the game, the upcoming cheer competitions and your thoughts on college. Like you were trained to by your coach, you answered them all professionally, without giving too much away. 

"You know Y/N," a male reporter began, "Word on the field is that you are Lakeside High's own Miss Americana." 

You tilted your head to the side. "Miss Americana?" You asked with a fake smile. 

The reporter laughed, "No need to act so coy Y/N! Miss Americana, the encapsulation of all things good. You're the perfect student: beautiful, smart, talented. What's it like, to be the very thing everyone wishes they could be?"

The microphones were pushed closer to you, everyone curious about your answer. You fisted your hands into the straps of your duffel to alleviate your anxiety, while you kept the pageant smile plastered on your face. 

"Um...well-"

You felt your body get jerked to the side as a heavy arm threw itself across your shoulder. "I should've know it was Y/N hogging all the reporters," Seungcheol joked. "I was waiting so patiently to be interviewed on my winning touchdown." He mock pouted at the cameras, effectively charming the reporters. It took everything in you not to roll your eyes and throw Seungcheol off of you. 

"We were just asking Y/N what it's like to be Miss Americana," the first reporter told Seungcheol. You froze, afraid of how he'd respond. 

Seungcheol pulled you closer to his side, flashing you his infamous dimpled smile. "She's perfect isn't she? They say humans are flawed, but you'd think she's an exception to the rule."

Seungcheol turned back to the reporters while you continued to look at him, bewildered. Why is he suddenly being so nice to you, as if he hasn't been spreading malicious rumors about you all week.

All of a sudden, you noticed his gaze shift towards someone at the back of the group. His smile turned into a smirk. The reporters may not have noticed the shift, but you did. Your heart began to race when you followed his line of sight and saw the scout from your state college. She was looking at you with a smile, and you started to feel giddy. 

She was here to offer you a scholarship, she had to be. If you committed to the university then you'd be close enough to see your family often, to see Joshua often. Finally, it felt like things were falling into place.

Seungcheol let out a theatric sigh, "Too bad our school's sweetheart is going to leave us soon."

Your eyes widened, and you accidentally let your facade slip. Murmurs of confusion rippled through the group in front of you. 

No, no, no. Please don't say it, please-

"Y/N's biggest dream is to leave this little town and go live in a big city on the coast. She's a free spirit," Seungcheol moved his arm from your shoulder to grab a hold of your hand with both of his. "While we'll all miss her, we know we have to let her go so she can thrive. I just hope she doesn't forget us out there in the big leagues."

His eyes flashed to yours, triumph gleaming in his eyes. While the reporters all gasped and started bombarding you with questions, you looked around desperately for the scout. It was too late though. She had already left to go talk to another senior on your team. 

All of those cameras taking photos and videos of you, but not a single one caught the cries you muffled inside as you lost your last chance to be with Joshua Hong.

You didn't have to wait until Friday to see Joshua this time because he came to find you at lunch the following Monday. 

"Hey Y/N!" he sat down in the seat across from you. The cafeteria was full of students, but you had the table all to yourself. You supposed that's what happens when you become public enemy #1. 

"Dani has been running her mouth all over school about how the scout from the state university offered her a full ride," Joshua rolled his eyes, something he seemed to have picked up from you. "Was anyone from UCLA there?" He sounded hopeful. 

You were a little thankful that he seemed to care so much about your future. Lord knows you've given up. It didn't matter where you ended up anymore, not if it meant you'd have to leave Joshua behind. 

You shrugged, "Not that I know of." You pushed around the salad on your plate with a fork. 

Joshua nodded solemnly, staring at your plate. 

"Shua?" He looked up at you, eyebrows raised in question. "Did you apply anywhere else, besides the state school?"

He blinked. "Why?"

You sighed, a bit disappointed. "No reason. Hey, I have to go, I forgot I have to print something for class." You quickly grabbed all of your things before turning towards Joshua. "I'll see you Friday?"

He looked like he was going to say something, but you had already turned and walked away. 

It was the Friday before prom. You sat under the maple tree, waiting for Joshua to join you. You watched as his group walked through the courtyard, when a girl stopped them to get Joshua's attention. While he split away from them to speak to her, the rest of Joshua's friends moved to their bench. When you made eye contact with Minhye, you gave her a cordial smile, which she took as an invitation to approach you. 

"Hi Y/N," she greeted you kindly.

"Hi Minhye, how are you?" You watched as she sat in front you, tucking her legs underneath her as she smoothed out her skirt. 

"I'm fine, thank you for asking!" You glanced over her shoulder as she spoke, distracted by the interaction between the girl on volleyball team and Joshua. "Looks like he's turning her down too," Minhye commented, when she noticed where your gaze was directed. 

You nodded, silently, hoping the relief wasn't too evident on your face. You played with your bracelet, feeling awkward as Minhye studied you. 

"Are you going to prom tomorrow?" She asked after a moment of silence. 

You shrugged, "I'm not sure yet. I don't really have anyone to go with." A part of you was afraid you'd be met with pity when you made eye contact with Minhye. Instead, you were pleasantly surprised when she simply nodded in understanding. 

"If you do decide to go, Hansol, Jihoon and Soonyoung will be there. They'll definitely keep you company if you'd like," she smiled reassuringly. It was just as you feared. You couldn't dislike Minhye no matter how hard you tried. She was refined, thoughtful, and clearly very talented. No wonder Joshua liked her. 

"You're not going?" you asked, genuinely curious. 

Minhye sighed in disappointment. "I can't, the Dean of Fine and Performing Arts from the state university is coming tomorrow to hold scholarship auditions. Mine is at 8 pm and Josh goes at 8:30, so he can't go either."

You're not sure why your heart clenched in pain. It wouldn't have mattered whether Joshua went or not, it wasn't like he was going to go with you. Still, whatever small flame of hope you had in you that Joshua might ask you to the dance was finally snuffed out. There was a sudden chill in the air around you. 

You plastered on a smile as you looked at Minhye. "Good luck for tomorrow then. You won't need it though. I've watched you perform. They'd be at a loss if they pass you up as a student."

You brushed away the curl that fell into your face as Minhye grinned at you. "Thanks!" A burst of laughter caught both of your attention as your turned towards the bench where Joshua had joined his friends. 

"You know Y/N," Minhye turned back you, speaking in hushed tones. "I used to think it was so cold sitting under this tree. I never understood why Josh insisted on sitting here every week, even if he was by himself." She stood up, brushing the dirt off her clothes. "I get it now," she dropped a wink in your direction. 

By now, Joshua had joined you both, setting his things down as he greeted you. "What do you get now?"

"Oh nothing," Minhye smiled cryptically. "It's kinda warm under the tree today, isn't it Josh?"

He hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess it is."

As you laid in bed that night, you thought back to the conversation you had with Joshua after Minhye left. 

"What was she talking to you about?" Joshua questioned, skeptically. 

"She was just asking me if I was going to go to prom," you answered, rummaging through your bag for a calculator. 

Joshua wordlessly handed you his own before asking, "Are you? Going, I mean."

You shook your head. "Nah, I might pass."

Joshua's eyes widened in shock. "Why not? You've been looking forward to this since your mom gave you her old dress for your 15th birthday!"

Your mouth dropped open as your heart fluttered in your chest. You couldn't believe he'd remembered that small detail you'd shared with him one day years ago in practice room B. 

You turned your head away, hoping your hair would hide your red cheeks from him. "Yeah but I don't have friends to go with anymore. Minhye said your other friends would keep me company but I don't want to submit them to the life of being friends with a social pariah"

Joshua began to speak but you interrupted. "I know what you're going to say. You're going to say that I shouldn't let what everyone else thinks about me stop me from doing what I want." He snapped his mouth shut, shoulders slumped as a sign that you were right. "But, it's exhausting Shua. To pretend it doesn't bother me. Prom is the only other big social event we have left, besides graduation. I'd rather just skip it and lay low."

He watched you for a moment as you scribbled equations in your notebook. Then, he slammed his binder shut, causing your jump and streak your pen across the paper. Joshua turned to completely face you before grabbing ahold of your shoulders. 

"Y/N, you've spent the entirety of this semester avoiding everyone but me because you wanted to avoid being the center of attention. Yet, you were all anyone ever talked about anyways. I know it's a cringe nickname that you hate but you're our school's Miss Americana for a reason. Seungcheol spread those nasty rumors because he couldn't have what he wanted, you. Dani has been telling anything with a pulse about her full ride because she thinks she took it away from you. People want what's yours because they envy you. Use it." 

You were so fascinated by Joshua that you couldn't look away. His eyes were wide, alight with a mixture of emotions you couldn't quite place. You'd only ever seen him so passionate like this with one other thing: music. He was looking at you the way he did when he played music. 

It was like the whole world melted away. You couldn't hear anything but Joshua, see anything but Joshua. You felt like you were falling in love with him all over again.

A knock at your door startled you out of your reverie. 

"Hi sweetheart," your mom poked her head into your room. "I just wanted to say good night!"

You scrambled out of bed. "Mom!" She came back into your room, alarmed by your agitation. 

"Remember your old prom dress?"

A smile started to slowly take over your mom's face. "The one you said you didn't need anymore because you weren't going to prom."

You nodded, blushing as you thought back to Joshua's speech. "Can you bring it back out?"

It was seven o'clock at night when you stood outside the convention center, goosebumps erupting on your skin from both the wind chill and nerves. 

They envy you. Use it.  

Joshua's voice echoed in your mind as you willed up the courage to step inside. You looked down at your phone, quickly sending a text to the boy.

I'm at prom. I hope you're right about this. And good luck with your audition. You'll kill it.

With one last deep breath, you made your way to the ballroom. The music was loud, the bass vibrating the ground beneath your feet. Still, it was deafening, the way people began to whisper, a ripple of silence making its way through the room as your classmates began to notice that you had shown up after all.  

You considered tucking your tail between your legs and running back home. You were only confident when you were with Joshua, you should've known this was a bad idea from the start. Suddenly, a hand grabbed your wrist. You jumped and turned, yanking your hand away. 

"Woah, it's just me!" Hansol held both his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to startle you."

You placed a hand to your chest as you caught your breath. "No I'm sorry, I guess I'm a bit jumpy." You nodded hello to Jihoon and Soonyoung, who both gave you kind smiles. 

"C'mon you can sit with us," Soonyoung said as he led you to one of the tables lining the side of the room. "You're a little late for appetizers but Jihoon grabbed an extra plate for you just in case you decided to show up. Here, eat!"

A small paper plate with some french fries and a cookie was placed in front of the empty chair that you guessed was yours. Your heart swelled at the boys' kindness, but you were also a bit worried. Everyone was still staring, except now, they were looking at the boys too. 

"Don't worry," Jihoon leaned in and whispered. "Any friend of Josh's is a friend of ours." You looked at the three faces who were smiling sweetly at you as you sat down. You hoped your own smile conveyed the gratitude you were unable to put into words. You sat with your back towards the dance floor. Maybe this was also planned by the boys, to keep your face hidden from the others and their faces hidden from you. 

They boys conversed with each other as you sat and listened, adding your own comments when they included you. When the music changed, Soonyoung shot to his feet. "I love this song, let's dance!"

You giggled at the pure joy in his face. That was until he grabbed your hand instead of Hansol's or Jihoon's. "Let's go, please!" he begged, bouncing on the balls of his feet. You looked at the other boys for help but they just snickered, amused at the scene. 

"There's no way he'll let you go now Y/N, you have no choice but to dance with us," Hansol called as he walked away with Jihoon. You surrender to Soonyoung's pleading, allowing him to drag you to the dance floor. You feigned annoyance, but secretly, you were glad the boys pushed you to dance with them. You finally felt you were enjoying the night. 

About an hour later, it was time to announce Prom King and Queen. Everyone returned to their tables and you applauded kindly as the couples who were voted for Prom Court walked down the dance floor to the stage. When you saw Seungcheol and Dani walk by, you sighed. There was a time, when you were a child, that you imagined you'd be Prom Queen, like your mom. Then, there was a time, after you'd met Joshua, that you imagined you'd be Prom Queen, and he'd be Prom King. It was just a fantasy though, and fantasies are just that: an imagination about something that's impossible to make true. 

To no one's surprise, Seungcheol and Dani were voted King and Queen, and they basked in the attention as everyone cooed during their slow dance. When it was time for all the couples the join, a few girls approached your table, asking the boys if they'd like to dance. Your three companions turned to you, eyes big and hopeful. It was clear that while they didn't want to leave you alone, they wanted to dance with these girls. 

"Go ahead," you gave them your signature (fake) smile. "I'll be fine!"

Soonyoung didn't look so convinced. "Are you sure?"

"We'll stay here with you if you want, just say the word!" Hansol added.

"If you'd like, we can dance with you instead," Jihoon nodded in agreement.

You tried to ignore the glare the girls shot you after that last comment. "Seriously you guys, I'm fine, go!" You waved them away, the smile staying on your face until they were out of your sight. You watched wistfully as everyone but you danced under the glittering chandelier. After two slow songs played in a row, and a third one started, you huffed. You took this as a sign that it's time for you to go home. You had just risen from your seat when the people on the dance floor began to gasp and turn to stare at the door to the ballroom. You tried to peek over the crowd but you couldn't see anything. 

"What's going on?" you muttered to yourself, as you walked towards the crowd. The gasps began to turn into whispers of a name.

Is that Joshua? What's he doing here? I can't believe Joshua came.

Your heart began to pick up speed absurdly in hopes that you heard right, that Joshua was here. 

Your brain began to scold your heart to be reasonable, Joshua is at his audition, why would he be here?

The students in front of you began to step to the side, and when you were finally able to see what was going on, you were astonished. There, standing on the other side of the room was Joshua. Your Joshua. 

Your feet were rooted to the ground, unable to move as you stared in pure shock. Joshua was here. Alone. Walking towards you.

When he got close enough, when you caught the scent of roses wafting from his skin, you reached out and slapped his arm.

"Ow!" Joshua looked at you, betrayed. He rubbed at his bicep. "What was that for?" 

"What are you doing here?" you hissed, completely oblivious to the onlookers around you. "Don't you have an audition at 8:30?"

Joshua simply nodded. "I do."

You looked down at the watch on his wrist. "It's 8:20, why are you here and not there?"

You stared, dumbfounded as he shrugged, nonchalantly. "I realized that it's more important for me to be here. With you." He was looking at you with the same smile he gave you the day you first met. The one that made you fall in love with him. The one that meant don't worry, you have nothing to be worried about. It was carefree, brilliant, beautiful.

You were at a loss for words, completely mesmerized by the boy standing in front of you. Your mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Joshua laughed endearingly, reaching out to tuck a curl behind your ear, before cupping your cheek.

"How long have you loved me?"

This snapped you out of your trance. You jerked back as a strangled noise escaped your throat, but Joshua reached out with his other hand and gripped your upper arm, holding you close to him.

"How long have you loved me Y/N?" he whispered, so softly you were sure no one else could hear but you, despite the pin drop silence that engulfed the whole room. "Because I've loved you since my first day here."

Your heart stopped beating. Your brain stopped thinking. Everything stopped. It was like the world froze, and only you and Joshua existed in it. 

"I should've told you from the start but you dreamt of leaving this town, I didn't want to hold you back. I was afraid that if I told you I loved you, then I would've also asked you to stay, and I couldn't let myself be the one thing that stood in the way of your happiness."

By now, Joshua's hands were holding yours, and he began to speak louder, as if he wanted everyone in the room to hear what he had to say. "So I pulled away from you. I thought that if I distanced myself from you, then the feelings would go away. Except they didn't. I still loved you, and it was a steady sort of love, one that didn't waver whether you were with me or if you were gone. I found comfort in that, knowing that I'd still love you, even if you left me behind some day."

You choked on a sob, remembering when you'd told yourself the same thing. That you'd always love Joshua, even if you left this town, with him in it. 

Joshua let out a breathy laugh, wiping your tears away with his thumb. "I didn't go through with my audition because I don't want to be here without you. You asked me once why someone would want to move to middle of nowhere America and leave all their friends behind. My answer is you. If I had known back then that I'd find someone like you in the middle of nowhere America," you couldn't help but laugh as you cried harder. "I'd leave LA all over again. In a heartbeat."

You reached up to hold Joshua's shoulders and pressed your forehead to his. "You have a flair for the dramatics, who would've guessed," you teased, and he laughed, holding your face in his hands so delicately, you felt precious. 

"I'm confessing to Y/N L/N, the town sweetheart, I couldn't be boring."

You smiled so wide, the way you do only when you're with Joshua. "I've loved you since I first met you, and I've been dying for you to kiss me ever since."

"Thank God," Joshua sighed in relief. "I'm tired of waiting."

When he leaned it to kiss you, it felt like you could finally breathe again. It wasn't explosive or dramatic. It was steady and warm, just like Joshua. His lips felt like silk against yours, his eyelashes tickling your skin as they brushed against your cheek. The sweet scent of roses engulfed you, and you felt your body relax into Joshua's chest. His grip tightened around your waist, causing your breath to hitch. Joshua pulled away slightly, gently bumping your nose with his as you opened your eyes to look at him.

You vaguely hear voices around you, but it doesn't register that you kissed Joshua in front of the entire senior class until Soonyoung whoops "Finally!"

You pull away and look around at all the faces staring back at you. Most of them were shocked, some of them were accepting, and a few were fond (Hansol, Jihoon and Minhye, who must've come with Joshua after her audition). Seungcheol and Dani looked at you with a mix of defeat and anger, and for the first time in a while, you didn't care. 

You look back at Joshua proudly, who smiled at you knowingly. "It's just you and me."

The music started up again, and while everyone around you started to dance, you stood there in Joshua's arms. People still whispered about you, but you didn't care. Right now, your whole world was just Joshua, and nothing else around you seemed to matter anymore.

"Babe, c'mon!" More knocks sounded on the door to your dorm room. "We're going to miss our flight!"

You opened the door to your loving boyfriend, who at the moment, was scowling at you. "I called you thirty minutes ago to tell you I was on my way. What happened?"

You rolled your eyes, "Shua you should be proud of me. I packed all my stuff in under thirty minutes." You brandished your arms wide, showing off your neatly packed luggage.

You felt a bit guilty for riling your boyfriend up on purpose, but you thought it was incredibly endearing how big his eyes and smile got when he got upset. "I can't belie-"

You cut him off with a quick kiss, pulling away with a big smile. It was physically visible, the way he melted when you looked at him like that. "It's just a one year reunion Shua." You say as you pass him your bags. "If you ask me, it's way too soon to 'get back in touch' with the people who made my life a living hell last year."

Joshua shot you an amused look before reaching out to tug on one of your curls. "Really? Because I think you're secretly dying to show off your new life in Los Angeles, and how you're so much better off."

You shot him look of fake annoyance. "I hate how well you can read me."

"No you don't!" he sing-songs back, walking down the hallway towards the elevator with your luggage. 

You turn to grab your keys off the wall hook, eyes catching on the photo above it. Preserved in a simple black frame is a page from your senior yearbook. Written under a candid picture of you and Joshua sitting under your maple tree are the words 

Most likely to run away together: Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince. 

[lithium-91]

Aight here’s my “I’m new and looking for ppl to follow” post!

Like or reblog this so I can check out ur blog if you are QUEER and post about any of the following —

- grunge

- classic rock

- folk rock/americana

- 90s music/culture/nostalgia

- aesthetics related to any of the above

- tbh really any music actually but those are the biggies

i am NOT interested in

- music elitism

- lots of political/discourse posting

- terfs…. duh????

- rpf/heavy parasocial relationships (monkees shippers sorta get a pass cause you’re usually obviously talking about the show)

- whatever tf a lot of tumblr THINKS grunge means lately…. like sadgirl coquette shit? that’s…. not grunge.

[berniesrevolution]

Spectre Journal

As the late Samir Amin wrote in 2006, “the challenges with which the construction of a real multipolar world is confronted are more serious than many ‘alterglobalists’ think.” Sixteen years later, Amin’s call for nations to “delink” from the Western-led economic order appears more ignored by state elites in the global South now than ever before. Earlier this year in a speech at Davos, Xi Jinping reaffirmed that “China will continue to let the market play a decisive role in resource allocation,” while “uphold[ing] the multilateral trading system with the World Trade Organization at its center.” And Russia’s assaults on Syria and Ukraine, financially supported by its plunders in regions like Sudan, serve as a reminder that the rise of national powers supposedly challenging US hegemony provides no guarantee that conditions will be more favorable to the international left. Thus, as Aziz Rana recently noted, the left needs an internationalist framework that “universally and effectively joins anti-imperial and anti-authoritarian ethics,” and refuses both “an old, broken Pax Americana” and “a new multipolar order dictated by competing capitalist authoritarianisms.”

But praxis can only emerge from a precise theoretical understanding of the objective conditions of imperialism today. What characterizes this new multipolar order and the nature of inter-capitalist competition? As a whole, this emerging multipolar world of bourgeois states does not create better conditions to challenge global imperialism, but merely preserves and even heightens these capitalist dynamics. Martín Arboleda cautions against “fetishizing” the role of the state in facilitating imperialism today at the expense of accounting for the role of international actors, and so conversely, we must also not overstate the capacity of the state—even developmentalist ones—in resisting imperialism.1 The decline of US imperial power and the rise of multiple “poles” on the global stage only reshuffles which states are mediating the existing global relations of production, without reorganizing the latter differently, and without fundamentally empowering independent movements in each region. Identifying the most effective strategy for the global left to build power requires understanding how this new expression of imperialism works. Rather than seeing multipolarity as opening up space for revolutionary struggles against imperialism, I contend that contemporary multipolarity functions as a new stage of the global imperialist system, a departure from unipolar US hegemony without neatly falling back into the traditional mode of inter-imperialist rivalry as described by Vladimir Lenin and Nikolai Bukharin commenting on the last century.

Today’s multipolar imperialism represents an intensification of the world-system sketched out by Bukharin, which sees the internationalization of finance capital and the development of national capitalist groups as two aspects of the same process. While national economic blocs have been increasingly sidelined in favor of multinational institutions by neoliberal globalization, nonetheless we see the strengthening of the power of nation-states to help facilitate financial capital in further containing the working class. A Marxist theory of imperialism today must thus not overstate the dynamic of inter-imperialist rivalry without endorsing a perspective that capitalist states are now entering a stage of peaceful co-existence enabled by financial interdependence, or what Karl Kautsky called “ultra-imperialism.” This deeper intertwining of state and capital enables new and more complex dynamics between ruling elites. Even as value transfer from peripheries to core remains intact, we can now witness multiple geographies of inter-imperial relations, with different cycles and layers of collaboration and competition between different sectors of the ruling class. Now joined by an often invisible class of institutional investors, state elites draw from more sophisticated technologies of repression and control across geopolitical blocs, leading to an uneven development of global authoritarianisms to counter independent and popular movements. This widespread erosion of political democracy, as it takes diverse forms, is thus a central policy of imperialism today.

(Continue Reading)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

By Thomas L. Friedman

Opinion Columnist

Every so often there is a piece of legislation on Capitol Hill that defines America and its values — that shows what kind of country we want to be. I would argue that when it comes to the $118.3 billion bipartisan compromise bill in the Senate to repair our broken immigration system and supply vital aid to Ukraine, Taiwan and Israel, its passage or failure won’t define just America but also the world that we’re going to inhabit.

There are hinges in history, and this is one of them. What Washington does — or does not do — this year to support its allies and secure our border will say so much about our approach to security and stability in this new post-post-Cold War era. Will America carry the red, white and blue flag into the future or just a white flag? Given the pessimistic talk coming out of the Capitol, it is looking more and more like the white flag, autographed by Donald Trump.

Barring some last-minute surprise that saves the compromise bill, a terrible thing is about to happen, thanks largely to a Republican Party that has lost its way as it falls in lock step behind a man whose philosophy is not “America First” but “Donald Trump First.” “Trump First” means that a bill that would strengthen America and its allies must be set aside so that America can continue to boil in polarization, Vladimir Putin can triumph in Ukraine and our southern border can remain an open sore — until and unless Trump becomes president once more. Our allies be damned. Our enemies be emboldened. Our children’s future security be mortgaged.

Today’s G.O.P. bumper sticker: Trump First. Putin Second. America Third.

“The United States has for some time ceased to be a serious country. Our extreme polarization combined with institutional rules that privilege minorities makes it impossible for us to meet our international obligations,” the political theorist Francis Fukuyama remarked on the American Purpose website. “The Republican Party has grown very adept at hostage holding. … The hard-core MAGA wing represents a minority within a minority, yet our institutional rules permit them to veto decisions clearly favored by a majority of Americans.”

Alas, though, while the current dysfunction of the Republican Party can explain why this particular legislation is likely to fail, how we came to this awful moment is a longer, deeper story.

This emerging post-post-Cold War era is a real throwback to the kind of dangerous, traditional great-power competition prevalent in the Cold War and World War II and most of history before that. Unfortunately, we have arrived at this moment with too many elected officials — especially in the senior ranks of the Republican Party — who never experienced such a world and with a defense-industrial base woefully unprepared for this world. Believe it or not, President Biden’s national security adviser, Jake Sullivan, has had to spend hours of valuable time each month searching the world for 155-millimeter shells for the Ukrainian Army because we don’t have enough.

That’s crazy. And it is particularly crazy at a time when three revisionist powers (Russia, China and Iran) are each simultaneously probing every day to see if they can push back America and its allies along three different frontiers (Europe, the South China Sea and the Middle East). They probe, individually and through proxies, to see how we react — if we react — and then probe some more. In Putin’s case, when the time seemed right, he launched a full-scale invasion of Ukraine.

“Because of generational change, most of America’s political elite today grew up in the relatively benign Pax Americana post-Cold War era, 1989 to 2022” (when Putin invaded Ukraine), “and they have lost the habit and the knack of thinking about global politics in military terms,” the U.S. foreign policy historian Michael Mandelbaum told me. “Very few members of the elite today have served in the military.”

This is “very different from the Cold War era, when most of our policymaking elite were people who experienced World War II,” added Mandelbaum, the author of the forthcoming book “The Titans of the Twentieth Century: How They Made History and the History They Made.” “Now, after 30 years of the post-Cold War era, Joe Biden is one of the few remaining leaders who was a policymaker during the Cold War — and issues of grand strategy and the management of great-power competition are no longer a major part of our public discourse.”

Trump, like Biden, grew up in the Cold War, but he spent a lot of it contemplating his wealth rather than contemplating the world. Trump’s instincts, Mandelbaum noted, are really a throwback to the interwar period between World War I and World War II, when a whole segment of the elite felt World War I was a failure and a mistake — the equivalent today of Iraq and Afghanistan — and then approached the dawn of World War II as isolationists and protectionists, seeing our allies as either hopeless or leeches.

As for House Speaker Mike Johnson, I wonder how often he uses his passport. I wonder if he has a passport. He is one of the most powerful people in America, following in the footsteps of both Republican and Democratic speakers who advanced our interests and made us strong in the world for decades. So far, he seems to care only about serving Trump’s interests, even if that means playing extremely risky games with foreign policy.

Meanwhile, many on the left emerged from this post-Cold War era with the view that the biggest problem in the world is not too little American power but too much — the lessons they drew from Iraq and Afghanistan.

And so who will tell the people? Who will tell the people that America is the tent pole that holds up the world? If we let that pole disintegrate, your kids won’t grow up in just a different America; they’ll grow up in a different world, and a much worse one.

After Ukraine inflicted a terrible defeat on the Russian Army — thanks to U.S. and NATO funding and weapons — without costing a single American soldier’s life, Putin now has to be licking his chops at the thought that we will walk away from Ukraine, leaving him surely counting the days until Kyiv’s missile stocks run out and he will own the skies. Then it’s bombs away.

As the Financial Times columnist Gideon Rachman reported, the ammunition shortage in Ukraine “has already led to an increase in Ukrainian casualties. … The shortage of weaponry is also having an effect on the willingness of Ukrainians to volunteer for military service. The mounting pressure on the Kyiv government is part of the explanation for the public falling-out between President Volodymyr Zelensky and his commander in chief, Valeriy Zaluzhny.”

If this is the future and our friends from Europe to the Middle East to Asia sense that we are going into hibernation, they will all start to cut deals — European allies with Putin, Arab allies with Iran, Asian allies with China. We won’t feel the change overnight, but, unless we pass this bill or something close to it, we will feel it over time.

America’s ability to assemble alliances against the probes of Russia, China and Iran will gradually be diminished. Our ability to sustain sanctions on pariah nations like North Korea will erode. The rules governing trade, banking and the sanctity of borders being violated by force — rules that America set, enforced and benefited from since World War II — will increasingly be set by others and by their interests.

Yes, America still has considerable power, but that power led to influence because allies and enemies knew we were ready to use it to defend ourselves and help our friends defend themselves and our shared values. All of that will now be in doubt if this bill goes down for good.

Remember this week, folks — because historians surely will.

[taylortruther]

i frequently think about how people who discredit taylor's creative process, or her emotional growth, seem to willfully misunderstand writing and creating art in general.

often, writers (of any kind) aren't writing autobiographically. but an artist creates in order to share their perspective of the world, their personal philosophies, their insights on life. how can you write about any of those things, without mentioning your own experiences? writing is a deeply personal art.

take one of my favorite authors, curtis sittenfeld. she's actually a wonderfully apt comparison for how taylor writes. some quick background: curtis is currently 47, grew up in ohio, attended an extremely selective and elite boarding school in massachusetts throughout high school.

prep ~era~

her first novel was called prep, about a young girl who grew up in indiana and attended an elite private school in boston. clearly drawn from her personal history, but it's fiction. the ny times even wrote about this very thing.

the man of my dreams era

then, at age 29-30, curtis wrote the man of my dreams, a coming-of-age-esque novel about a miserable young woman who, at 29-30 reflects on her life, her mundane misery, and whether she'll ever find love. it is a book of biting, clever internal dialogue, but the main character is deeply unlikable. on purpose.

to the blog earthgoat, sittenfeld explains her own fascinating with the excruciatingly awkward minute details of life--something that contributes to her extremely detailed, lively writing. she's intensely curious to the awkward, emotional parts of the human experience, especially as it pertains to young women.

sound familiar? almost like that experience of going from girlhood to adulthood is a huge well of inspiration, and exciting to revisit:

eligible era

in 2016, sittenfeld wrote eligible, a modern re-telling of pride & prejudice. she includes bits of modern choice feminism, reality tv, how we hide our true identities behind our phones... this wasn't a story about her life or her experiences, and yet!!!

she tells vanity fair that she relates or enjoys the grumpy, unapologetic mary, and that loves writing grumpy characters. t's a theme we see throughout her work (see above and below.)

and, again, her personal history comes into play. the book is set in cincinnati. this reminds me a bit of taylor's revisiting of nashville and pennsylvania throughout folkmore (seven, 'tis the damn season). it's fun to play around with your own history, beliefs, opinions, etc. in art. you draw inspiration from it!

you think it, i'll say it era

in 2019, sittenfeld wrote you think it, i'll say it, a collection of 10 short stories. like prep and the man of my dreams, the characters are very relatable--painfully so, at times. boarding schools and feminism and politics and the right to choose one's own misery (or happiness) are present. as a reader, you feel like you get a clear sense of sittenfeld's own personality and politics by reading, even though the characters are quite different. she excellently describes feelings of insecurity, shame, and self-aware hypocrisy (whether it's the liberal woman sleeping with a trump-supporter she hates, or the woman who has to confront her high school bully, who now wants to be her friend.)

town & country interviewed her about her background and inspirations. she touches on how age, maturity, and even politics can change how you reflect on your memories... similar to how taylor has described her relationship with joe, and her relationship with a post-trump united states, in songs like miss americana & the heartbreak prince (wanting to run away to safety with joe), or even dbatc (comparing their love to a lawless country.)

she mentions to the lifted brow that writing is therapeutic (but not a replacement for therapy), but she's still creating fiction... or at least a fictionalized account of something that happened.

she also says in that interview that she's not interesting enough to warrant a book or film--and that reminded me very much of taylor's desire to stay out of the public eye. at one point, her life felt huge and unmanageable because she was the it girl. and now, she ran away from it all to save herself and finds comfort in that (the lakes, ciwyw, mirrorball.)

rodham era

sittenfeld wrote a fictionalized "alternative universe" novel about hillary clinton, called rodham, in 2020. basically, it follows what sittenfeld imagines what hillary's life could've been, had she never married bill.

this isn't about sittenfeld at all! it's about another real person, and exploring her feminism and her politics and her life--and what that means for all women--through a fictionalized version of her.

even so, some of sittenfeld's personal life does sneak in. again, we've got the politics, the feminism, the classism of ivy league boarding school types. and she even includes anecdotes from her personal life in the novel about fictional hillary clinton! she shares an example in her interview with vox:

it's impossible for a writer to separate themselves from their art. you write what you know, even if the subject is something foreign to you. you find a way to take interest or relate to the material, because what's a novel or a song if not a story about a universal human experience?

[nicklloydnow]

“Who can describe these shameful acts as heroic? And yet the Democratic Socialists of America promoted the Times Square gathering and has lent its support to this rhetoric. Six sitting members of Congress—Rashida Tlaib, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Cori Bush, Jamaal Bowman, Shri Thanedar, and Greg Casar—belong to the organization, which sets the tone for many political intellectuals and journalists.

Accordingly, leftists on social media defended the idea that change must happen by any means necessary. Noah Kulwin, a contributing editor of Jewish Currents, compared the attacks to John Brown’s raid at Harper’s Ferry. Lake Micah, an editor at Harper’s and The Drift, hailed the attacks. “A near-century’s pulverized overtures toward ethnic realization, of groping for a medium of existential latitude—these things culminate in drastic actions in need of no apologia,” he wrote on X. It is interesting to find an editor at a prestige magazine celebrating bloodshed as a means of “ethnic realization.” And it is fortunate for him that he seems incapable of writing clearly, or he might simply have written, “Kill the Jews.” Gabriel Winant, an assistant professor at the University of Chicago, said that criticizing Palestinian tactics was “politically meaningless.”

(…)

In a 1975 interview, Harrington described how many on the left had adopted a “third-world romanticism” that spoke of the “US always being bad and the Third World always right.” Harrington lamented the fact that “some young Jewish leftists, feeling a need to prove their commitment to socialism and internationalism, had to be more anti-Israel than anyone else.” Harrington, for his part, identified with the Jewish state’s social-democratic tradition, while supporting Palestinian self-determination on peaceful terms.

Whatever can be said against this view, it is far nobler and more humane than what one currently hears from the DSA and its media and academic allies. Over time, the left’s opposition to Israel has only grown—in part because of changes in Western perceptions of the country. What was once was seen as a secular nation, led by liberals and socialists and embodied in the kibbutzim, has now come to be perceived as religious and right-wing.

People who regard Western civilization as inherently racist, violent, misogynistic, and unjust have come to see Israel as the purest distillation of the essence of that rotten civilization. Polemics against the Jewish state often double as indictments of other Western countries, particularly the United States. “From Palestine to Mexico, all of the walls have got to go,” the rallygoers chanted in Times Square.

(…)

This week, millennial socialism revealed its moral bankruptcy. While videos of atrocities circulated online, its adherents made excuses for kidnapping, rape, and the killing of noncombatants. In recent years, millennial socialists have come closer to the Democratic mainstream, but they continue to distinguish themselves by their eagerness to overlook, excuse, or embrace the crimes of Palestinian extremists. In doing so, they forfeit any right they might have possessed to speak as enemies of injustice and cruelty.”

“In recent years, the concept of “decolonization” has been swallowed up by its metaphorical potentialities. The euphemistic second meaning the term has acquired in the process—a noncommittal verbal gesture toward symbolic restitution of certain historic wrongs—has facilitated its widespread endorsement by universities, NGOs, and media outlets. But as Hamas laid waste to southern Israel, writers, activists, and academics eagerly linked the term back to its original concrete referent: the often horrifically brutal struggles over territorial control that shaped the 20th century and that now risk returning to the fore as the Pax Americana falters.

The result is an uncomfortable predicament for elite institutions that have rhetorically embraced “decolonization”—but would surely prefer to eschew its more literal implications.

(…)

Here we find an indirect clue as to the true nature of the “decolonization” project that has become a prominent part of higher education: Like much of what now takes place in elite institutions, it is ultimately a therapeutic enterprise. Battles over land and sovereignty are displaced onto the psyche; the demand for territorial restoration has become a metaphor for internal struggles over identity and belonging for which universities serve as a staging ground.

But intellectual history suggests this therapeutic function isn’t as easily detached from the concept’s violent implications as university administrators might like. The Afro-Caribbean philosopher Frantz Fanon, who is generally regarded as the originator of much contemporary thinking on decolonization, was also a practicing psychiatrist. In his 1961 manifesto, The Wretched of the Earth, Fanon argued that violence was essential to the defeat of colonialism for psychological as much as for practical reasons: Without a bloody struggle against the colonizer, the colonized can’t heal the psychic wounds imposed on them by colonialism. Out of this crucible, he prophesied in the early phase of decolonization, a “new man” would be born. For Fanon, decolonization was therapeutic only insofar as it was also real, material—and violent.

In recent days, pro-Palestinian protesters have tried to channel the cathartic effects of anti-colonial violence invoked by Fanon. But as Israel’s response unfolds with Western backing, a twin narrative has come to the surface on the other side, with some supporters of the Jewish state also seeking catharsis in the meting out of reciprocal devastation to Gaza. Relatedly, a difficulty with any one-sided application of Fanon’s account of decolonization in this context is that Israel has its own account of psychic regeneration through nation-building. Some early Zionists, too, sought to forge a “new man” through a violent struggle to overcome the psychic effects of millennia of anti-Semitism and stateless subjugation. Both narratives retain powerful appeal far beyond the territories in dispute.

There has been no more fraught subject than Israel in elite universities in recent decades. Most of them have influential constituencies on both sides of the conflict, and they have consequently acted in contradictory ways, often attracting the ire of both Israel’s supporters and its opponents. But their reluctance and awkwardness in responding to the current situation hints at a problem deeper than these divided loyalties. For years, elite colleges—and other influential institutions—have lent their prestige to once-radical concepts like decolonization, seeming to imagine that they could be kept separate from the gruesome histories out of which they emerged. Fanon, the intellectual godfather of “decolonial” thought, wasn’t so naïve. As the world becomes more dangerous again, the luxury of metaphorical radicalism may prove too costly to sustain.”

“A horrified i24NEWS journalist Nicole Zedeck told cameras near the Gaza Strip: 'I'm talking to some of the [Israeli] soldiers and they say what they've witnessed as they've been walking through these different houses... babies — their heads cut off. Families completely gunned down in their beds. This is nothing that anyone could ever have imagined.'

How is it that Hamas has defenders? How does barbarism have any place in our modern age? How could those who think the ‘Palestinian cause’ righteous ever defend this unprovoked carnage?

(…)

A post-Holocaust world that vowed ‘never again’ has, this weekend, witnessed Jews ripped from the safety of their homes and places of business.

Hamas is now threatening to execute one hostage for every strike by Israel that comes without warning — executions they vow to film and release.

Who among us hasn’t heard the pleas of mothers, fathers, siblings, husbands and wives, begging for the safe return of their loved ones and felt their abject fear?

I think especially of the women and girls of Israel, going about their day as we might in the West, and try to conjure the surreality of being snatched by armed militants, beaten and stripped and made to walk through the streets while men spit and jeer, subjected to atrocities too obscene to print.

This is ISIS-level terror, moving from hard targets — planes, buildings, stadiums, subways — to a mass extinction event, innocent civilians picked off one-by-one.

(…)

Make no mistake: This isn’t just about land control. This is about fundamentalism and a deep, centuries-abiding hatred of women. These would-be warriors, targeting society’s most defenseless, are cowards.

(…)

Tlaib actually called it Palestinian ‘resistance’, leading to swift condemnation from New York Democrat Ritchie Torres.

‘Shame on anyone who glorifies as “resistance” the largest single-day mass murder of Jews since the Holocaust,’ he slammed. ‘It is reprehensible and repulsive.’

Yet we see such sentiment thriving on the Left.

(…)

War didn’t ‘erupt.’ Israel was blindsided in an unprovoked terrorist attack on a scale and scope to rival 9/11.

The attack was further characterized in this piece as an ‘eruption of violence’ – as if both sides were to blame.

The American Jewish Committee reported that the Times never once used the word ‘terrorist’ in their Saturday coverage.

As for the supercilious female congresswomen who were so quick to excuse these atrocities — AOC especially, that self-described firebrand feminist — they should be shamed out of office.

Not least because their sophomoric, simple-minded stance is complete repudiation of what happens to women in war, a historical atrocity that dates back at least to the ancient Greeks. Rape has been used to terrorize the enemy, psychologically destabilize or to ethnically cleanse. In Rwanda in the 1990s, Tutsi women were raped by HIV-positive men recruited especially for just that purpose.

So commonplace was rape as a weapon that the United Nations didn’t declare it a war crime until 1995.

As for the shouts this weekend of ‘Allahu Akbar!’ over the naked, brutalized bodies of women, alive or dead, paraded through the streets — let us not shy away from this either, although some media outlets, the aforementioned New York Times and CNN among them, certainly are.

What a betrayal. What a cowardly refusal to report the truth. Ever since Hamas came to power in the Gaza Strip in 2006, the region has been subjected to Taliban-level repressions.

Women and girls have been forced to wear the hijab since 2007. Two years later, females were forbidden to ride behind men on scooters or to dance — ever. An Islamic group called Swords of Truth threatened female TV personalities with beheading if they refused to conform to strict dress codes.

(…)

We are now seeing such horrors writ large on the nation of Israel.

On 9/11, the world — the sane part, those nations that value freedom of thought and movement and equality for all — rallied around America and came to our aid in the face of unspeakable Islamist terror. Israel deserves no less.”

[claudiosuenaga]

O Assassinato de um Presidente e a Redução Populacional

Por Cláudio Suenaga

Realizado em 1974, dez anos depois do assassinato de Kennedy, O Assassinato de um Presidente (Executive Action), dirigido por David Miller e com roteiro de Dalton Trumbo (1905-1976), baseado em história do escritor Donald Freed (1932-) e do advogado e ativista Mark Lane (1927-2016), que em 1966 foi o primeiro investigador desmascarar a Comissão Warren em seu livro Rush to Judgment: A Critique of the Warren Commission’s Inquiry into the Murders of President John F. Kennedy, Officer J.D. Tippit and Lee Harvey Oswald (London, Bodley Head, 1966), traz um diálogo revelador entre James Farrington [Burt Lancaster (1913-1994)], um especialista em black ops, e o líder da conspiração, o milionário Robert Foster [Robert Ryan (1909-1973)].

Insatisfeito com a orientação cada vez mais tolerante e “liberal” de Kennedy em relação aos direitos civis dos negros e ao comunismo – o pacto firmado com a União Soviética de um Tratado de Proibição Total de Testes Nucleares afigurava-se como o primeiro passo para o desarmamento nuclear, e a Ação de Segurança Nacional (Memorando 263), de 11 de outubro 1963, acenava com a retirada das tropas norte-americanas do Vietnã do Sul até o final de 1965 –, Foster manifesta preocupação com o futuro dos Estados Unidos e particularmente da elite dominante branca, prevendo que a população mundial até o final do século XX chegaria a casa dos 7 bilhões, “a maioria deles morenos, amarelos ou negros. Todos eles com fome, todos eles determinados a se reproduzir. Eles sairão das regiões de onde nasceram para a Europa e a América do Norte.”

Foster vê a Guerra do Vietnã como uma oportunidade de conter a explosão demográfica do Terceiro Mundo e reduzir a população mundial em 550 milhões:

“Daí o Vietnã. Um grande esforço lá nos dará o controle do sul da Ásia nas próximas décadas. E com bom planejamento, podemos reduzir a população em 550 milhões até ao final do século. Eu sei. Eu vi os dados. Parecemos deuses que leem o Livro do Juízo Final, não é? Bem, alguém tem de fazê-lo.”

Foster acrescenta que eles poderiam aplicar as mesmas técnicas de “controle da natalidade” lá desenvolvidas para reduzir o excesso de população dos grupos indesejados (brancos pobres, negros e latinos) no próprio Estados Unidos.

[miscigenacaonobrasila]

Afinal, o que é o brasileiro? - As migrações como projeto de nação

 

Dois conceitos problemáticos – assimilação e aculturação –, mas cuja compreensão histórica é importante para pensarmos nas discussões relacionadas às migrações e como o migrante é interpretado no que diz respeito à uma identidade nacional. A transformação do Brasil em um estado independente no início do século XIX gerou diversas inquietações e debates entre aqueles que governavam a nova nação. Esse povo não era somente aquele que já se constituía no país. A política inicial do Império Brasileiro visava migrantes dispostos a ocupar regiões de fronteiras do país, especialmente no sul, e em pequenas propriedades rurais.

Decorrem desse exemplo observações acerca da busca pelo branqueamento da população brasileira, pensando ainda nos debates relativos ao fim da escravidão no país. A ideia essencial era ver o migrante estrangeiro, branco e europeu como o responsável por melhorar ou civilizar o Brasil, ou seja, aqueles que aperfeiçoariam uma nação imperfeita e «desafricanizariam» o Brasil. Em meados do século XIX, podemos utilizar como exemplo a atração de sulistas estadunidenses, derrotados na Guerra Civil americana, que receberam subsídios e terras no interior do estado de São Paulo e a visão negativa sobre a migração chinesa.

Segundo o fazendeiro de café Luis Peixoto de Lacerda Werneck

"Os protestantes alemães eram moralizados, pacíficos e trabalhadores, enquanto os chineses eram homens-animais cujo caráter é apresentado por todos os viajantes com cores desfavoráveis e terríveis. Seu torpe egoísmo, o orgulho, uma insensibilidade bárbara alimentada pela prática do abandono ou trucidamento dos filhos. A cultura chinesa iria degenerar a população brasileira, que já havia sofrido a disformidade do indígena e do africano."

No final do século XIX, as migrações para o Brasil se transformam em um fenômeno de massa e se destacam as chegadas de migrantes provenientes de países do sul da Europa, como Itália, Espanha e Portugal.  Ao mesmo tempo, as migrações desses povos eram importantes para o Brasil em um contexto de recrudescimento e até proibição da migração subsidiada de alemães. É ainda nesse cenário que se intensificam no Brasil as teorias raciais vinculadas ao darwinismo social e que buscavam uma solução para o processo de miscigenação no país. Essa solução era teoria do branqueamento, ou seja, a entrada de milhares de migrantes europeus em território brasileiro resultaria, em algumas gerações, na transformação/branquidão da população do país e, por consequência, em uma pretensa nação mais civilizada .

Jeffrey Lesser aponta que essa sociedade pluralista colocava a branquidão no topo e a negritude na base e que a fluidez desses termos e dos seus significados fizeram com que o Brasil se tornasse uma nação multicultural. As elites japonesas costumavam também promover o Japão como o país «branco» da Ásia, o que pode ter contribuído nas negociações para a promoção da migração japonesa para o Brasil. J. Amândio Sobral, inspetor da agricultura do estado de São Paulo, na ocasião de sua visita ao Kasato Maru, navio que trouxe o primeiro grupo oficial de migrantes japoneses ao Brasil, disse que «a raça é muito diferente, mas não inferior». Conseguimos observar, por meio desses exemplos, como as teorias raciais e, particularmente, a ideia de transformar o Brasil em uma nação mais branca estavam diretamente relacionadas a um projeto político que entendia a migração como uma forma de civilizar o país.

[notasfilosoficas]

“Está bien celebrar el éxito, pero es más importante prestar atención a las lecciones del fracaso”

Bill Gates

William Henry Gates III, es un empresario, informático y filántropo estadounidense, nacido en Seattle, Washington en octubre de 1955. Conocido mundialmente por haber formado junto con Paul Allen la empresa Microsoft.

Su padre era un destacado abogado y su madre profesora en la universidad de Washington y directora de un banco.

Estudió hasta el sexto grado en una escuela publica y posteriormente en una escuela privada de elite en Seattle. Es en esta escuela, en donde Bill conoció a Paul Allen quien más tarde seria su socio.

El 4 de abril de 1975, siendo aun un estudiante en la Universidad de Harvard, crea la empresa de software Microsoft. 

En ese mismo año, abandonó la escuela y se trasladó a la sede de MITS, una compañía americana de electronica, para pactar con esa empresa la cesión del 50% del lenguaje de computadora BASIC, quien después del tiempo serviría de base para el desarrollo de un lenguaje de programación dirigido a eventos denominado Visual Basic.

Microsoft utilizaría BASIC para simplificar el ambiente de desarrollo de aplicaciones desde 1998 hasta 2008.

Bill Gates presionando a quien seria luego su competidor Apple, logro tener acceso a la compañía para mejorar sus hojas de calculo y otros programas. 

Consciente de la importancia del entorno gráfico que había mostrado Apple, de quien la interfaz grafica y el uso del “raton” fueron desarrollados en su sistema operativo Lisa, Gates, logró obtener legalmente el entorno gráfico y del ratón e incorporarlo directamente a su software Windows, volviéndose competidor directo de Macintosh años mas tarde.

En 1980, ya como presidente de Microsoft, se reunió con altos ejecutivos de IBM y consiguió venderles su sistema operativo DOS, dejando para la propia compañía Microsoft, los derechos de la licencia y el mantenimiento, así como con la facultad de vender el mismo sistema operativo a otras compañías, volviéndose el software mas utilizado en todos los ordenadores personales del mundo y volviendo a Gates uno de los hombrea mas ricos del planeta.

En junio de 2008, Gates, abandona sus labores al frente de Microsoft, dedicado su tiempo a la Fundación Bill y Melinda Gates.

En mayo de 2021, anunció el fin de su matrimonio con Melinda Gates, después de 27 años de matrimonio.

Desde 2007 Bill Gates ocupaba el segundo lugar en la lista anual de las mayores fortunas personales realizada por la revista Forbes, detrás del empresario mexicano Carlos Slim.

Fuente Wikipedia.

[glitteringrp]

⧼   alp navruz, comerciante, aura de influência, COMPRADOR   ⧽     —     Eu, HALIL ARTHUR TEWKSBURY ATAKAN, 31 anos, vindo de OSFRO, tenho interesse na aquisição de uma esposa da Corte de Luz, deixando minhas ocupações habituais pelo período mínimo de seis meses para me hospedar em Wisteria Hollow, nos termos deste contrato.

Influência junto a nobreza: em breveeeeeeee.

𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐑      —

Nascido na tradicional Osfrid, Halil sempre soube compreendeu muito bem as benesses do dinheiro. No entanto, sua família tinha uma origem diferente das outras famílias aristocráticas osfridianas. Isso porque os Atakan eram descendentes de saltikanos que haviam feito fortuna no comércio de seda, especiarias e outros refinados produtos do Oriente, tendo se estabelecido na capital de Osfro e construído grande fortuna com suas atividades comerciais. Crescido num ambiente de luxo e privilégio, cercado por criados e tutores particulares que o educaram em uma variedade de disciplinas, Halil, apesar de ser um osfridiano no papel, era estranhamente apegado à cultura saltikana e sempre manteve contato com seus familiares no Oriente.

No entanto, a vida de Halil mudou drasticamente quando ele foi acusado de um crime que não cometeu, mas do qual foi incriminado pelo próprio pai, que havia cometido o crime e estava tentando encobrir sua culpa e bom nome. Para evitar a prisão e a ruína da família, Halil foi forçado a fugir de Osfrid e se refugiar nas colônias adorianas, onde começou uma nova vida. No início, o homem lutou para se adaptar a um ambiente tão diferente do que estava acostumado, mas logo descobriu que tinha habilidades valiosas para sobreviver em um mundo violento e impiedoso.

Os escândalos do Velho Mundo eram pouco mais que uma brisa leve em Adoria, de modo que ele pode estabelecer a rede de contatos adequada para que logo instalasse seu próprio negócio como contrabandista de tudo o que fosse minimamente valioso naquelas terras desgraçadas, lucrando com negócios ilícitos que o ajudaram a prosperar em um mundo onde a lei não era sempre respeitada. O pouco dinheiro que lhe foi entregue pelo pai a título de “recompensa” por assumir seus crimes logo foi multiplicado pelo moreno, de uma forma que o tornou completamente independente da família - até mesmo mais rico.

Embora Halil tenha se tornado um homem de fortuna e com alguma influência nos salões de Cape Triumph, ele nunca esqueceu a humilhação a que o pai lhe submeteu. Foi por isso que, em Adoria, decidiu usar suas habilidades para desafiar a elite que governa as colônias, criando uma rede secreta de revolucionários que luta contra a opressão e a injustiça impingida pelos nobres osfridianos, financiando atentados. Isso, por si só, é demonstrativo do lado sombrio do homem: violento e impiedoso, é capaz de tomar decisões difíceis e desagradáveis em nome de sua causa. Halil matou e torturou aqueles que já se opuseram a ele, incluindo seus próprios homens, quando viu necessidade. Justamente por saber que sua luta por “liberdade” e “justiça” não é fácil que precisa ser implacável por poder e controle. Ele é um homem complexo, capaz de grandes atos de bondade e crueldade, mas que, em última análise, luta por uma causa maior do que ele mesmo. 

Mais que uma esposa, o que o Atakan pretende na Corte de Luz, na surdina, é angariar mais poder para o movimento, por saber que o tolo Jasper Thorn reuniu em um só lugar todas as plebeias com poderes no Continente, reabastecendo o “estoque” a cada seis meses. Se haviam adições que tinham de ser feitas à causa adoriana eram as tais joias, não por suas habilidades na cozinha, ou na cama, mas porque elas eram as únicas que contavam com atributos que podiam fazer frente à nobreza.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐄      —

Halil é um homem complexo e muitas vezes imprevisível. Ele cresceu na aristocracia londrina, mas depois de se mudar para as colônias americanas, acabou se envolvendo em negócios obscuros e ilícitos. Como resultado, ele se tornou um anti-herói, vivendo na beira da lei e desafiando as normas sociais. inteligente e astuto, é capaz de pensar rapidamente em situações de perigo. Ele também é corajoso e não tem medo de arriscar sua vida pelos outros. No entanto, ele também é temperamental e muitas vezes age impulsivamente, o que pode colocá-lo em situações perigosas. Halil tem um forte senso de justiça e muitas vezes age em nome dos oprimidos e dos injustiçados. Ele também é leal aos seus amigos e aliados, e fará o que for necessário para protegê-los. Contudo, Halil também tem uma natureza sombria e pode ser vingativo quando se sente traído ou injustiçado. Ele tem dificuldade em confiar nas pessoas e muitas vezes age de forma egoísta para proteger seus próprios interesses.

[elcitigre2021]

CONOCE A BARANSKY, OTRO TESLA QUE LA ÉLITE BORRÓ DE LA HISTORIA

Transcrição do vídeo:

CONHEÇA BARANSKY, OUTRO TESLA QUE A ELITE APAGOU DA HISTÓRIA

Certamente você conhece nikola tesla e o história de suas grandes descobertas mas você não sabe quem era esse homem e sua importância para o desenvolvimento de humanidade um gênio a par de Tesla ou Einstein que no entanto foi silenciado pelas grandes potências, porque suas descobertas sobre energia livre e limpa, e descoberta sobre melhores e formas eficientes de transporte e comunicação prejudicada e ainda fazer a grande indústria do petróleo e de combustíveis fósseis. Esse homem era o doutor Leo Jay baranski um gênio e cientista que eles literalmente apagaram da história, um homem que conheceu e trabalhou com Einstein um cientista desconfortável que a história esqueceu e que agora vamos reviver e dar-lhe o seu devido lugar. Acredite em mim é muito provável que você não saiba quase nada sobre este homem e o que vamos dizer a ele hoje aqui nesse vídeo, não vai te deixar indiferente. A indústria do petróleo e rockefeller são provavelmente do piores coisas que aconteceram com a humanidade. Embora certamente muitos em o público vai me dizer que eu estou errado e começar a listar o progresso nas cotações que tivemos como uma civilização graças ao petróleo. No entanto, no passado havia científicos como Nikola Tesla cujo conclusões e investigações podem verificar que tecnologia de catapulta e avanço nossa espécie atinge níveis muito elevados sem a precisa usar petróleo como principal modo de combustível, mas o Rockefeller teve e ainda tem a mão superior para muitos décadas, eles foram os magnatas do petróleo, cujo poder foi capaz de decidir, O que seria feito agora? investigar na ciência que eles financiou uma ciência que apoiou os avanços que dependiam de petróleo, mas que rejeita o que eles fizeram para nós prescindir do chamado ouro negro, aqueles inventores e cientistas que não irá aderir à referida política, foram comprados ou suas patentes eran adquiridas apenas para mantê-los em segredo e nunca espalhá-los. Esse é o caso do Doutor Leo Jay Baranski chamado o outro Nikola Tesla que lamentavelmente o experimento foi apagado da história, com as frequências de ressonância quartzo, e tecnologia baseada em energia fundamental da matéria. Suas descobertas poderiam ter permitido a difusão no mercado de uma energia barata e limpa para toda a humanidade, prolongar a vida das pessoas e  até mesmo melhorar o transporte para níveis que ainda hoje parecem futuristas. Baranski trabalhou para a norte-americana aviação Inc o precursor da empresa Aeronáutica Boeing O Doctor Leo. Eu estava tentando criar um dispositivo de micro-ondas alimentado por ATP, ou seja, o adenosina trifosfato um nucleótido fundamental na obtenção de energia célula cujo propósito era liberar a energia vital do corpo humano através das frequências ressonantes são ditas que durante seus estudos intermináveis ​​e experiências com animais, o médico Dr Baranski conseguiu descobrir que dependendo da finalidade para a qual foi utilizado a tecnologia tinha a capacidade de vida dupla.  O próprio Branski disse que até poderia usar para criar um suprimento de energia capaz de competir com a energia nuclear, descobriu que a energia dos micro-ondas podem ser transmitidas a longas distâncias, tão longas que eles teriam até a capacidade de alcançar para a lua, infelizmente, todos e cada trabalho promissor,  teorias e pesquisas do Doutor Leo Baranski, bem como sua profunda pesquisas em física teórica e  a teoria do campo unificado foi realizada em conjunto com o engenheiro e financeiro jogar tudo branco e com o mesmo doutor Albert Einstein prácticamente foi perdido para sempre, na verdade posso dizer que foram praticamente apagadas de todo registro como se nunca tivesse existido, e qualquer um tem o direito de duvidar antes dessa declaração pendente de provas, que mostra o que estamos dizendo em nesse vídeo, é a Clara mostra, sobre o extermínio em massa do da obra e trabalho de Balanski, é de fato de que o médico nem tem entrada ou referência em artigos cientistas, na verdade só é mencionado brevemente na parte inferior da página, artigo dedicado a seu colega Lancellotte, apesar do fato de que as investigações bansky em 1963 foram suficientemente impressionante, o suficiente para gerar um importante artigo  na imprensa associada, intitulado um cientista testará uma arma do próprio raio que foi postado também na revista Newswick em 4 de Março de 1963. E não é bem assim, realmente simples. Estamos falando de um grande tragédia para o desenvolvimento da nossa espécie E é que as credenciais do doutor baranski são muito extensos, não foi qualquer inventor, era professor empsicologia na universidade luterana da Califórnia, completou um Ph.D. em Princeton e trabalhou como cientista na aviação norte-americana, mas por assim dizer isso não foi suficiente para Dr.baranski também funcionou no programa espacial masculino e colaborou com nada menos que com a NASA a força aérea, e a Marinha dos Estados Unidos ajudando a projetar uma série de aeronaves, foguete x15 e Bombas RS70, e nave de projeto Apolo também trabalhou em suas pesquisas com Albert Einstein, e passou um tempo pesquisando com ele no instituto Max planck, e igualmente com outros cientistas que exploraram o campo de frequências ressonantes, como foram Nikola Tesla e Royal Raymon. Conduza as implicações da pesquisa do Dr. Balanski. Eles provavelmente foram consideradas inconveniência pelos poderes constituídos, infelizmente Dr Baranski teve uma morte extremamente suspeito, e no início de 1971, aos 45 anos, adoeceu Sexta-feira do mês de agosto, entrou no hospital e morreu de leucemia aguda, em segunda-feira seguinte pouco antes este doutor baranski tinha  trabalhado em uma série de três livros sobre a teoria do campo unificado, teoria que até hoje permanece sem ser resolvido, e que se o fizermos daria uma visão sobre o universo e a própria existência, sem precedentes, alguns pesquisadores que tentaram reconstruir os trabalhos dele destruídos, do equilíbrio sugerem que em contra sua vontade suas descobertas estavam destinadas a construir armas para o complexo industrial militar, que poderia ter resultado determinante em sua suspeito morte prematura, e é que o médico Dr baranski projetado desenvolvido e construído geradores de ondas quadrada, tocando as frequências ressonância gerada pela coroa solar 5 milhões de anos atrás, acredita-se que essas frequências interagiram com as bacias vulcânicas da terra continham pirofosfatos e outros produtos, produtos químicos e agiu como um catalisador que causou o desenvolvimento do nucleotídeo ATP trifosfato de adenosina que produz 50% da energia livre, e isso é essencial na formação da vida, mesma energia livre que repetimos Essa foi a decisão, logo se tornou evidente que essa tecnologia seria usada com propósitos puramente destrutivos e Dr Baranski não queria que eles fossem usados ​​dessa maneira. Então, quando ele se recusou a continuar cooperando e depois disso ele teve uma descida horrível. Hoje nos lembramos disso neste vídeo, sabemos o que fizeram com ele, e sabemos porque os donos do mundo escondem e não querem energia livre, não lhes convém desde então nós não precisaríamos mais do seu maldito petóleo, este homem e todos as suas genialidade e talento infelizmente foram eliminados para sempre, somando assim a uma longa lista de cientistas que desapareceram em circunstâncias suspeitos cujo único crime foi querer Que a humanidade alcance seu verdadeiro potencial como espécie.

Parad Edward Betanco.

Mensão ao Dr. Baranski

[factoryhqs]

¿KRISTINE FROSETH en la tapa de la revista cosmopolitan? te estás confundiendo, quien ves ahí es LOVE HUXLEY. es probable que recuerdes su cara por haberle cruzado en las calles de nueva york. con apenas VEINTICINCO años, esta ACTRIZ proveniente de LOS ÁNGELES se ha posicionado en la elite de nuestra ciudad y no tiene planeado permitir que alguien le destierre. continúa leyendo si te interesa descubrir más sobre la figura del mes.

¡Te damos una cálida bienvenida, EFFY! Tienes VEINTICUATRO (24) HORAS para enviar la cuenta de tu personaje. De precisar más tiempo, no dudes en acercarte. ¡Gracias!

FUERA DEL PERSONAJE —

nombre: effy.

pronombres preferidos: ella/elle.

edad: -21 / +21

zona horaria: gmt-3.

triggers: desórdenes alimenticios, descripciones explícitas de suicidio.

¿en caso de unfollow, estás de acuerdo que tu personaje continúe siendo utilizado por la administración como pnj?: sí / no.

DENTRO DEL PERSONAJE —

nombre completo: love huxley.

pronombres preferidos: ella/la.

fecha de nacimiento y edad: 13 de noviembre, 1997 / 25 años.

nacionalidad: ítalo-americana.

ocupación: actriz, modelo.

categoría: celebridad

( tw: drogas. )

COSMOPOLITAN, Issue 2, 2023 

It's All About Love!

por Emily Komatsu, fotografías por Mila Schiamma. Estilista: Jenna Byers.

«Iré a prepararnos un té. Puedes tomar el libro que quieras» me ofrece una Love descalza cuando me invita a pasar a su biblioteca. La salita es acogedora, con amplias ventanas que dan hacia Cornelia Street y estantes llenos de libros, chucherías y plantas — la townhouse neoyorkina de Love Huxley es, exactamente, como me imaginaba el hogar de la actriz: el caos es perfecto y fascinante, lleno de vida, un reflejo de la personalidad de la anfitriona. Pero lo que más me llama la atención son los libreros que decoran el cuarto: es evidente que los libros que allí descansan no están solamente de adorno y han sido leídos una y otra vez. Sin embargo, el tomo que más destaca es la copia que descansa debajo de un cenicero en forma de corazón. Se trata de Wild Child, la novela autobiográfica escrita por Love a los veinte que recapitula una adolescencia alocada y controversial, el mismo libro que la catapultó a la notoriedad fuera de blogs dedicados a la moda o a la farándula. Estoy por agarrar el libro cuando Love regresa a la habitación, cargando una bandeja de galletas caseras y un juego de té de porcelana fina. Su amabilidad casi me hace olvidar que esto se trata de una entrevista exhaustiva y no de una visita amistosa, así que tomamos asiento en el sillón vintage de la biblioteca y saco mi libreta, un lápiz y mi grabador de voz. 

«Esa copia es de la primera edición» señala Huxley, sonriente. Puedo ver el orgullo cuando lo dice. «Puedes llevártelo, a mí me da un poco de vergüenza leerlo ahora» admite, entre risas, mientras se dedica a servir el té. «Cuando eres una adolescente piensas que todo lo que te pasa es lo más importante del mundo y yo era la niñata más egocéntrica del planeta » bromea, recogiendo la larga y desordenada melena que le caracteriza en una cola de caballo. Con gestos como ese, es que Love me hace sentir bienvenida, como si fuéramos dos íntimas amigas teniendo una conversación casual. Supongo que este es el famoso efecto Huxley: es imposible no quererla cuando te hace sentir tan especial. 

Huxley es la máxima personificación de una nepo-baby: su padre, Luke Huxley, no necesita mayor introducción — aunque hoy en día el A-lister es más conocido por sus múltiples controversias que por sus películas, es difícil olvidar que durante su juventud completaba la tríada de rompecorazones hollywoodenses junto a DiCaprio y Pitt. Mientras tanto, la madre de Love, Chiara Leone, es una ex-top model y actriz italiana conocida como la última gran musa de Gianni Versace. Así, Love se crió entre Milán y Los Ángeles, figurando de vez en cuando en los tabloides tanto por las desventuras de sus progenitores como por sus propias andanzas. Con una vida como esa, no es sorpresa para nadie que todas las adolescentes con una cuenta en Tumblr quisieran ser como Love Huxley.

Sin embargo, la modelo y actriz ítalo-americana ha sabido construir una carrera más allá de su apellido. Su camino empezó a los quince, cuando firmó con IMG Models. Sus sesiones fotográficas eran inescapables para los aficionados a la moda, y a pesar de un debut controversial en la Paris Fashion Week, Huxley se convirtió en uno de los rostros favoritos de los fashionistas gracias a su sentido de la moda único y edgy — todas las jóvenes de su edad aspiraban a imitar su estilo, las principales casas de alta costura la codiciaban como su nuevo rostro. Pero fue la publicación de Wild Child lo que la dio a conocer a un público más amplio y es lo que le ha permitido apartarse, de a poco, del modelaje y volcarse de lleno a su verdadera pasión: el cine. Huxley se ha consolidado como un ícono de la moda actual, la musa de varios cantantes de rock y una de las it girls más intrigantes del último tiempo. 

— A diferencia de otras chicas con carreras similares, no pareces usar mucho tus redes sociales. ¿Hay alguna razón detrás de eso? Muchas celebridades privilegian su privacidad y otras personas no creen en el uso desmedido de Internet, ¿es ese tu caso? 

 «Oh, no, para nada. Quiero decir, ¿puede que sea un poco de ambas cosas? Pero… creo que en realidad, me gusta que mis perfiles sean genuinos. Publico lo que quiero, lo que me gustaría compartir con el mundo— no me interesan los brand deals de Instagram, porque no me hice una cuenta para eso. Tampoco me agrada gritar mis asuntos a los cuatro vientos, porque no me gusta dar explicaciones a nadie, mucho menos a extraños de Internet. Solo comparto lo que me parece interesante, como la mayoría de la gente, aunque tiendo a estar más presente cuando empiezo a promocionar una nueva película. Ni siquiera cuando era una adolescente subía muchas cosas, en parte porque podía meterme en problemas con mamá; para eso tenía mi cuenta secreta» Huxley guiña el ojo y hay algo en su sonrisa que hace que me pregunte si esa cuenta secreta aún existe.

 — Es imposible hablar de ti sin mencionar Wild Child. Dime, ¿qué te llevó a reflexionar así sobre tu adolescencia siendo tan joven? Tenías apenas diecinueve cuando lo escribiste, veinte para su publicación. 

«Es un cliché, pero tuve una revelación durante el año en el que fui a rehab» a pesar de su candidez, puedo notar que Love necesita unos momentos para ordenar sus ideas. Le ofrezco cambiar de tema, pero me asegura que no pasa nada. Que ya lo ha superado. «Viví una adolescencia muy libre, demasiado libre. Cuando me mudé definitivamente a Beverly Hills, mi padre nunca puso límites: me dejaba hacer fiestas increíbles en casa y salir con chicos demasiado mayores para mí, y me dejaba faltar a la escuela. Mamá odiaba eso y sé que discutieron mucho al respecto, porque ella todavía vivía en Italia y no le gustaba que yo estuviese lejos. También me peleé mucho con ella, porque quería que regresara a Milán— pero mis amigas, mi estilo de vida, todo lo que me importaba estaba en Los Ángeles. Casi me salí con la mía, pero cuando te atrapan a los diecisiete con algo demasiado parecido a la cocaína en los bolsillos y con la ropa apestada a alcohol, cuesta explicarle a tu madre que no es lo que parece. La peor parte fue que no se enfadó, se puso a llorar. Puso mi trasero en el primer vuelo a Italia, con un pasaje directo al mejor centro de rehabilitación de Europa. Me hicieron escribir un diario como parte de la terapia y eso terminó siendo Wild Child» diez años atrás era difícil imaginar a la Huxley de hoy: aunque todavía tiene ese destello salvaje y travieso de su juventud, la Love del presente irradia una madurez que antes le era incompatible. «Todavía me voy de fiesta, claro, pero ya no siento la necesidad de tirar la casa por la ventana. Después de vivir tantas cosas en tan poco tiempo, no te queda de otra más que empezar a tomarte las cosas con calma y sanar»

— Hablando de sanar, lamento ponerme en modo periodista-sin-escrúpulos, pero es inevitable no hacerlo. Se aproxima el segundo aniversario del fallecimiento de Soren Maxwell y todo el mundo quiere saber cómo estás. Nunca has hablado públicamente de él, salvo por el post de Instagram que hiciste el día de su funeral; es difícil perder a un ser querido, ¿cómo ha sido todo tu camino con la pérdida?

«Fue… un golpe de realidad. De esos que te hacen poner todo en perspectiva: un día tienes a alguien y al siguiente ya no está. Siempre amaré a Soren» Huxley se lleva la tacita de porcelana a los labios y no habla por un buen rato. Le han preguntado hasta el cansancio sobre el actor, más que de cualquiera de sus novios del pasado. Es evidente que es un tema difícil para la actriz. «Cuando la gente me pregunta por él, quieren una historia triste. Que hable de sus últimas semanas, de su adicción… Pero yo me niego a hacerlo: Soren era mucho más que sus demonios. Él me hacía reír, nos hacía reír a todos; no hablaba mucho, pero cuando lo hacía siempre tenía algo inteligente para decir, o algún cumplido que dar… De no ser por Soren, no me habría atrevido a hacerme actriz» veo que Love hace un esfuerzo por contener las lágrimas y estoy por interrumpirle cuando ella niega con la cabeza: quiere seguir hablando. «Nada ni nadie puede quitarme el tiempo que pasamos juntos» 

[ . . . ]

¡Suscríbete a Cosmopolitan.com para tener acceso al artículo completo!

[phoebebarac]

FINAL IDEA - COLLABORATIVE ARTS PRECINCT

Sip and Paint & Collaborative Art Wall

There has been a common theme with restructuring urban waterfronts, where either the area is developed into a non-place, or it creates a social elite cultural area (Kostopoulou, 2013). Meaning either no one is using the space, or one social group is. Thus, there needs to be a combination of both sides, which includes the existing qualities of the area - infrastructure, nature, historical, and cultural - to be integrated with the innovation of social and economic change (Kostopoulou, 2013). The North Shore Sip and Paint classes have various genres and materials that are inviting for any social group. Additionally, the collaborative art wall constantly provides an area for artists to promote their art. There will always be artists who want to publicise their talent. Thus, the space is constantly being used, and can easily adapt to ever-changing trends.

Will be held here:

(Randolph, E., A. (2016). Young People Painting at an Outdoor Art Class [Photograph]. Dreamstime. https://www.dreamstime.com/editorial-stock-photo-young-people-painting-outdoor-art-class-americana-park-avenue-rutherford-nj-usa-local-business-holds-park-image74212273)

There will be food trucks to purchase dinner, which will be on the dock:

(Shorty’s Food Truck. (n.d.). Home. https://shortysfoodtruck.com.au/)

Tables and chairs set up in the hangar:

There can be a collaboration with Brisbane’s local artists, and have a different artist each night. Every artist has their own style, so people would have the option to paint all genres and with all materials.

For example, looking at some of Brisbane’s most famous artists, Paul Franklin is known for his colour and texture predominately through abstract and pop-themed work (Wye, 2021):

(Franklin, P. (n.d.). Ice Gold 120cm x 150cm White Blue Gold Textured Abstract Painting [Painting]. Franklin Art Studio, Brisbane, Qld, Australia. https://www.franklinartstudio.com.au/collections/brand-new-paintings-for-sale-online/products/ice-gold-120cm-x-150cm-white-blue-gold-textured-abstract-painting) 

Another example is Erin Nicholls, who does oil paintings of landscapes primarily (Wye, 2021). Classes could be something simple as it would be a 2-3 hour session, and similar to:

(Nicholls, E. (2023). Neon [Oil Painting]. Erin Nicholls, Brisbane, Qld, Australia. https://www.erinnicholls.com/other-artworks-2)

A good incorporation could be sidewalk chalk art, and the cement space by the hangar could be utilised in those sessions:

(Roskopp, J. (2020). How one family’s sidewalk chalk art brings joy to neighbors during quarantine. Click on Detroit. https://www.clickondetroit.com/features/2020/07/03/how-one-familys-sidewalk-chalk-art-brings-joy-to-neighbors-during-quarantine/)

There would be and inclusion of 1 session a week on Aboriginal paintings, and have an Aboriginal take the class. It would also be a great opportunity for the class to learn about the culture and history. Additionally, this enhances the site and experience for visitors as it utilises the unique, historical, and cultural aspect of the space (Kostopoulou, 2013).

To book a session, you can do so online and the layout would be a month-view calendar with the images of the painting they would be doing in that session on that day with the artist and time:

I considered adding the skill level - e.g. beginner - but I didn’t want that to deter people from participating. Such as, marking a session as ‘expert’ may discourage the beginners to come.

There will be a wall built where artists can rent the space and paint their art on their section. There will be a dedicated section for up and coming Aboriginal artists also. It would be built down the middle of this path:

I thought to put it on the left side, but then that only showcases one side of the wall. So I thought to put down the middle so more artists can show their work.

There could also be a collaboration with art suppliers who sell their products at the end of the sessions, or at some sessions. Since the customers would be interested in art, it is a good way for these companies to be promoted. In return, they can supply materials for the sessions at discounted prices.

There can be sessions throughout the day, however in summer, late afternoon would be ideal as it is cooler and since this is outside, there is no air-conditioning. There will be shading, similar to this:

(Project Shade, (n.d.). Our Products. https://www.projectshade.com.au/our-products/)

Sessions will start at 4pm Monday-Friday and will finish between 6pm-6:30pm. Then, there is the option to purchase dinner that is from Eat Street as there will be food trucks and everyone can eat in the hangar on the provided tables and chairs. This will be dependent on whether Eat Street owns any moveable food trucks that can easily be relocated. Looking through the images of Eat Street, there are a few places that look like they’re in vans. Any sessions that finish at 6pm on Fridays and Saturdays, there will be no food trucks but there will be encouragement to go to Eat Street for dinner. There can be different food for each session, so then all stores from Eat Street are promoted and it isn’t the same people working each week. There will be sessions held on Saturdays also, considering half of the targeted age group (20-30) are full-timers and may not have days off for the weekday sessions. However, there are companies that are open 7-days and the full-timers’ weekends aren’t Saturday and Sunday. For example, Amart Furniture’s full-time workers have a Friday and Saturday off, or a Sunday and Monday off. Hence, thinking from these workers’ perspectives, they could want and appreciate a relaxing, affordable activity to do on their days off, which may not otherwise be considered as they are a more niche group than the Monday-Friday workers (Dunn, McGuirk. Winchester, 1995). The time of the Saturday sessions will vary depending on the time of year, due to the weather. There could be morning sessions in Autumn and Winter, then they can be in the afternoon in Summer and Spring. There will be no sessions on Sundays as the employees are working on casual rates, but this could be an option in the future to expand when it gains popularity.

To reign in the excitement for the 2032 Olympics, as we get closer to that there can be classes based on the Olympics. Such as painting athletes, equipment used in sports (e.g. pool, hurdles), and green and gold themed art.

I considered having sessions start at 6pm during the week. Looking from an insider’s perspective, making the sessions start at 6pm seems to be more accessible for full-timers and provides more opportunities to come to classes. However, thinking from an outsider’s perspective, it is not appealing to be driving out to North Shore - which would be a distance for some - straight after work, where they will be tired, to come to a park in the dark to paint (Dunn, McGuirk. Winchester, 1995). So, I decided against that.

There will be a wind screen attached to the hangar, so if there is a lot of wind or rain, these can be used and keep the guests comfortable and enjoy their dinner. This can also be used for the sessions if needed.

It will cost $50pp. Other Sip and Paint’s cost between $60-$70 (Fridas, 2023; Paint Juicy, 2023; Pinot & Picasso, 2023). Thus, by dropping the price attracts the audience as it is cheaper than all other classes, as well as free, easy-access parking, and it being outdoors. Even though it is cheaper, it is not too cheap that would make people question the value of the classes. Once it grows in popularity, then there can be consideration of raising the price to meet the market.

What makes North Shore’s Sip and Paint different is that it is outdoors, consequently, the business climate is what puts this concept at a competitive advantage to the pre-existing Sip and Paints (McGuirck, Winchester, Dunn, 1996). Additionally, the creative placemaking for this concept has built on the park area by adding these sessions outdoors, on the grass, in nature, and utilising the open space. Rather than, introducing infrastructure that damages the land, instead, showing respect to the land, whilst enhancing the area, increasing visitation, and accommodating to societal changes (McGuirck, Winchester, Dunn, 1996; Dunn, McGuirk. Winchester, 1995). Moreover, the majority of the locations are in West End, CBD, and Fortitude Valley. These locations have paid parking as well as difficult parking. However, Sip and Paint at North Shore has heaps of free parking, and right by where the classes are held, there will be no worry on missing out on a park also because Eat Street doesn’t start till later on those overlapping days. There is also multiple public transport options if needed. Additionally, I could not find any Sip and Paint’s that offered the purchasing of dinner. Some offered snacks - like cheese and crackers - while others are BYO. The only things staying the same are the painting sessions, and BYO alcohol and cooler.

By adding the wall for artists to rent and display their art, enriches the art-focused environment, and contributes to the creative placemaking. Galleries and museums are similar to this wall, however, I could not find anything where the artists are painting on the wall from scratch. Thus, increasing the competitive advantage over the other Sip and Paint classes - also provides inspiration and something vastly different for the class-takers to view - and galleries/museums as this amplifies the business climate (McGuirck, Winchester, Dunn, 1996). Moreover, this wall will always associate with the shifts in the local economy as it is very easily maintainable and adjustable to societal changes (Dunn, McGuirk. Winchester, 1995), similar to the Sip and Paint classes.

SWOT