#funny thing is. i was just talking about the universal romanian experience of having an inheritance dispute in the family

[mihai-florescu]

Happy elements: so, what are the plans for the climax events?

Akira: inheritance disputes

Happyele: ok ok good. For which unit?

Akira: yes.

[panlight]

I've been wondering if in the Twilight universe a lot of historical mysteries can be explained with vampires? Kind of like how in ancient aliens everything is just aliens. How were the Pyramids of Giza built? Vampires. Who created stone henge? Eh, vampires did it. Where is the lost city of Atlantis. That was Aro's fault.

No, but seriously some historical mysteries could be explained this way. Maybe Atlanis was a real city, only to be destroyed by the Volturi to cover up vampire activities. Maybe a coven lived there? Or the colony of Roanoke disappearing could've been a vampire or several wiping them out and cover it up. Maybe even a few historical killers were just vampires and that's why they were never caught. It's a very interesting rabbit hole to go down, on how mysteries might be explained in Twilight.

Honestly, why isn't Bella asking Carlise or the vampires in Breaking Dawn about this?! I would be asking the romanians and Amun about history all day long!

Yeah, see, this is the stuff I wanted more of. I think the only thing we really get is the "St. Marcus" story about driving all the vampires from Volterra, and that is purely made up by SM, not based on real history or legend (although probably inspired by St. Patrick driving the snakes out of Ireland).

I guess there's the stuff with the Denali sisters inspiring the myths of the succubus, and Carlisle starting the 'stregoni benefici" legend, and obviously she co-opted the Quileutes' history and origin stories which is you know a Whole Other Thing, but otherwise it's just so romance-focused that we don't get a lot of this grounding sort of 'history' and world-building and frankly I was always more interested in that than the romance. I was reading the series as vampire stories vs romances, and while that might have been a misunderstanding on my part, it has influenced how I have engaged with them from the start.

And, yes, WHY doesn't Bella ask Carlisle or really ANY of the vampires about any of their history??? I found that enormously frustrating as a reader that she had centuries of lived experiences here and she just . . . didn't seem interested at all. Even with Edward! She doesn't ask him what the roaring 20s were like, what it was like to live through WWII, anything? She apparently loves Jane Austen--Carlisle was alive in that time period, she doesn't want to ask him about it? Again, I think this is a function of a) this is a romance and b) SM does not care about history; but it would have added so much depth not only to the supporting characters to learn more about their lives before Bella, before the Cullens even existed as a group in some cases, as well as her relationships with them.

I know everyone loves to headcanon they're all close and Bella's like the newest daughter/sister and it's one big happy family but I struggle with that because there's so little canon evidence of Bella like . . . giving a single crap about most of these characters as individuals. She doesn't seem curious about them. She only knows the bare outlines of their histories because THEY info-dumped them on her and then never talked about it again. Bonding moments of Bella asking about what the 1960s were like and all the Cullens telling funny stories or whatever would have made these relationships and Bella's love for these characters seem much more real.

And yeah, oh my god, I would have SO many questions for Amun. He’d probably get annoyed and kill me but it would be worth it to get all my questions about life in Ancient Egypt answered before I died. 

[blkgirlcafe]

Professor Nasty

Professor! Florian Munteanu x Black! Reader

Warning: Public sex, unprotected sex, cheating, undefined age gap, dirty talking, slight degrading. 

I keep my description of the reader pretty vague, make her how you want, but she black fosho. I am trying to get better at writing from a Y/N perspective, so any constructive criticism is welcomed. 

Thank you @dersha98 for the inspiration and the ending. Thank you love!

University of Munich

Y/N tried to keep her eyes on the slides but it was nearly impossible. She never believed the hot professor stereotype until now. 

Somehow she had gotten her dates mixed up and ended up registering for classes late. Which means all the good electives were taken. Y/N had gotten stuck with the two worst electives one could think of and she was sure to be in for a boring ass time. Public speaking and Romanian literature. 

Public speaking was the worst to Y/N, because well it was public speaking. Every other week she was giving a speech, standing in front of a class of 30. It was nerve racking and she always needed a break after that class. 

Romanian literature on the other hand surprised her. The professor was gorgeous, a man if she ever saw one. 

Talk and built like a brick wall that she would happily run into. She sat up front, eyes tracing his each movement. 

“So reports are due, please pass them up.”

Y/N pulled out the report that she put together less than 4 hours ago after reading the spark notes online. She hadn’t read most of the book, getting bored within the first 4 chapters. 

Everyone knew that professors didn’t read these things, just grazed over and did a length check. 

She quickly passed it forward and began to pack her stuff, last class of the day. Y/N couldn’t wait to get home and watch Netflix. 

1 week later 

A big bright red F was stamped on her paper. Not even a C or D. This would tank her grade in the class which would tank her GPA. 

Y/N waited until the class was empty before approving Mr. Munteanu

Up close he was even more impressive of a man. He was solid built and smelled like mint and firewood. She liked it. 

He didn’t even get her a chance to talk, “Your grade is your grade, stop staring off into space and maybe it could have been better.”

Y/N was shocked not expecting that out of the normally quiet professor. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Munteanu, the book was just really hard for me to get into. Can I try another book? Please?” 

Y/N tried her puppy eyes on him, hoping it would work like it would on her boyfriend. 

“Read the whole book, cover to cover and instead of a 2 page report, I want 4. The highest you can get is a B.” 

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir.” 

The way he licked his lips made her look away, something inside her heating up at the thought of his tongue.

“When is it due?” She finally asked. 

“I’ll give you a week, and Y/N don’t tell anyone. I don’t normally let students make up work.”

“I won’t, thanks again Mr. Munteanu.”

Y/N declined an invite to drinks, and lowkey ghosted her boyfriend to finish the paper. Once she got past the first 4 chapters the book was actually good. Lots of drama and sex which she wasn’t expecting. 

She easily typed out a report after and printed it out. Excited to hand it back to him after class. 

Y/N waited silently as Mr. Munteanu read her paper. His tall frame was casually leaned against the desk at the front of the auditorium. She fidgeted in her seat. Having him read it in front of her was nerve racking. 

The paper dipped below his lips and Y/N found herself staring at his lips and how pink they were, wondering if they tasted as good as they looked. 

“Miss Y/N, Y/N!” 

Y/N snapped out her daydream, “Yes Sir.”

“I asked what is your favorite part of the book?”

Y/N chewed her lips, wondering if she should tell the truth. The book had a few steamy sex scenes and they were explained in graphic detail. 

Y/N kind of shrugged, not wanting to answer him. 

“Use your voice young lady.” His voice was stern, making her clench her thighs. 

“The sex scenes Sir, they were just so real.”

One eyebrow shot up on his face. 

Y/N felt her heart speed up, this was not a conversation she was prepared to have with him. 

“Come here Miss Y/N.” 

On shaky legs she made her way to where he was standing, he picked the book up off the desk and handed it to her. 

“Show me your favorite part.” 

Y/N flipped through the book she was handed. For some reason her hands were shaking, she found the part. 

“This is it.” Y/N squeaked out. 

“Read it Miss Y/N.”

Y/N gulped, praying her voice did not fail her, “ His soft touch sent flutters through her body, this is what it felt like to be touched by a man. An experienced man…”

Mr. Munteanu wrapped a large hand around her hip, Y/N gasped.

“Can I touch you?” 

“Yes...please.”

Y/N cursed herself, already begging. Mr. Munteanu stood and Y/N felt surrounded by him, he towered over her, his scent engulfed her. Y/N tilted her face up, to look at him. 

“Tell me you want this.” he barely whispered. 

“I want this sir.” 

Mr. Munteanu crashed his lips on hers, kissing her aggressively. Y/N kissed him back, biting back a moan as he grabbed her ass.  She needed more, wanted more. 

“Please Sir…” she broke the kiss. 

“Please what sweetheart.” 

Y/N wasnt sure what to ask, fuck my brains out sir, use me like a toy sir, do anything you want. The pad of this thumb traveled from her hip to her neck where he gently squeezed getting a moan out of Y/N.

“Don't make me ask twice.” 

“Please fuck me Sir.” 

Mr. Munteanu growled as his other hand yanked at her jeans, not even bothering to unbutton them, pulling them down. 

Cold air hit Y/N wet pussy lips she was absolutely drenched from the little he had done. What happened next happened so quickly, Y/N head was still swirling. She was face down on the hard wooden desk, Mr. Munteanu running a thick digit up and down her slit.  The clink of a belt was all that could be heard over both of their hard breathing. 

“Fuck I wish I had more time.” his thick accent broke her out her spell. 

“Please...I need you.” Once again begging like a whore to be fucked by an older man. 

“Don't worry sweetheart, I am going to fuck you like a man should.” 

His wet tip came in contact with her thigh as he guided the thick cock head towards her entrance. His pre cum mixed with her wetness as he pushed inside her, testing the limits of her walls. 

A gasp left Y/N as his thickness filled her up, a painful stretch that quickly turned into pleasure. Mr. Munteanu pushed until their bodies were connected, Y/N walls fluttered around him, reacting to having such girth in them. 

“Good girl, taking all of me.” he grunted. 

Y/N moaned as he begin to fuck her, slow deep strokes that left her breathless. Y/N let out a loud fuck as he hit a particular spot. 

“Have to be quiet for me baby, can't let them know what I am doing to you.” 

“I cant...It feels so good...please more.” Y/N tried to bite her lip, to keep from getting too loud. 

“You want them to know that you like older men, that you let me fuck and so quick.”

“Fuck Yes, please dont stop!”

“I'm not stopping until I flood that cunt.” 

Mr. Munteanu lifted one of her legs, setting it on the desk, hitting even deeper on each stroke, a tingling that started in her core finally let go, Y/N toes curled as she had her first orgasm, breath hitched in her throat. 

“Look at you, already cumming all over my dick. Imagine if I had you in a bed, the things I could do to you babygirl.”

Y/N head swam with the thoughts, the way he could use her body, she wanted that more than she wanted anything else right now. 

“Does your boyfriend make you feel like this?”

He knows I have a boyfriend, Y/N though. Mr. Munteanu picked up the pace, slamming his hips into her. 

“Tell me Y/N.” he said through clenched teeth. 

“No Sir, you feel better.” Y/N cried out. 

Y/N was being fucked so hard she swore the desk was moving, not that she cared, her second orgasm was sneaking up on her. 

Moans, skin slapping and the occasional grunt filled the empty auditorium. Mr. Munteanu pulled out, flipping her over before laying her back on the desk. All Y/N could see was him and his extremely chiseled chest. Her ass was pulled to the edge of the desk, her ankles by his ears, thick dick at her wet entrance. Y/N fist clenched around nothing, riding out her second orgasm. 

“Fuck, I am about to…” Mr. Munteanu never finished. 

He flooded her unprotected pussy, something she didn't even let her boyfriend do. He kissed her legs and thighs as he pulled her legs down. 

“I need more.” was the last thing he said as she rushed to put her pants back on and scurry out the door. 

Y/N rushed across campus, she felt like everyone knew what just had happened, she felt like everyone knew that her professor cum was staining her panties. She made it to her boyfriend's apartment, praying he was not there, still at the gym, or at the pub with friends.

The whole way up all she could think was, I just had sex with Mr. Munteanu! In the same class that he taught me in. Y/N was going to have to stare at that desk for the rest of the semester. She got to his apartment and mentally cursed herself, she could hear him on the game already. 

“Babe! Where have you been?” He asked her. 

“I had to turn in that paper and he had me stay while he read it.” Y/N tried to quickly get down the hallway but  Fynn wouldn't stop talking. Any other time he would be so engrossed in the game she could walk around stark naked and he wouldn't notice. 

“I waited on you for dinner though, I am hungry babe.” he whined. 

“Let me take a quick shower and I'll order your favorite.” 

She should feel guilty that her boyfriend was waiting for her to return while she was having the best sexual experience of her life on a desk, with her professor, who was also her boyfriend professor. But all she could think about was two orgasms in less than ten minutes. 

“Why are you walking funny baby?”

Y/N froze in her place, she just got fucked with the biggest dick she ever saw. 

“Sprained my ankle earlier in heels, I need to put it up.” 

Y/N quickly faked limped to the bathroom, turning the water up super high. She set her phone on the counter noticing a text from an unknown number. 

Be free Friday evening -Flo

[cecilspeaks]

154 - The Heist, part 2

You have orbited the sun. You have been to the Milky Way galaxy. You have seen the moon. You are an astronaut. Welcome to Night Vale.

The Sheriff’s Secret Police announced today that they have no new leads into the ongoing investigation of the robbery at the Last Bank of Night Vale. The three people who stormed into the bank, held the staff and single customer at gunpoint, but did not at first even ask for any cash from the registers’ drawers. And yet in only a few minutes, and with no damage to or forced entry into the vault, they had managed to steal millions of dollars from it. Sheriff Sam described the details of the robbery as follows. 

The robbers entered the bank repeatedly shouting “This is a robbery” and waving their guns around. After a minute or so, teller Genevieve Daly finally asked: “Do you want me to give you money?” “Um, yes,” the robbers decided. “We want you to give us money.” “How much money?” Genevieve asked. “How much do you have?” the robbers replied. Genevieve then had to count the money in her till, which took a while, because bank protocol requires that tellers count the money multiple times, until the total amount matches twice in a row. But on her second count, Genevieve was two dollars off from her first, so she had to start over. “Hang on,” she told the masked intruders, “gotta do it again.” “No worries, the robbers said, truly looking like they were not worried. Customer Joel Eisenberg, who had dropped face down on the floor the moment guns were drawn, immediately handed over his wallet to the robbers. “What’s this for?” the robbers asked Joel. “You’re robbers, aren’t you?” Joel said, careful not to look directly into their eyes. “I’m giving you my money, not trouble.” “Cool, cool,” the robbers said without looking in the wallet. Genevieve’s manager, Susan Willman, stood behind her new employee nervously explaning to the thieves, “I don’t have access to the vault. I-I-I don’t know the combination.” “That’s fine,” the robbers said. The security guard on duty that day and every day for the last 50 years was Jesse McNeil. Jesse does not carry a gun, so he couldn’t intervene, but he has always been known for his friendly charm and grace. He tried the old “kill them with kindness” approach by complimenting the fine work the robbers were doing. “I understand you’re robbing our bank,” Jesse said. The robbers cooed and said, “What a nice thing to say, old man, thank you.” “You can’t tell because we are wearing plastic masks of former US presidents,” said the robber with the face of Richard Nixon, “but we are blushing, kind sir.” Within minutes, the Sheriff’s Secret Police had arrived. “Who called the police?” the robbers asked, but without urgency, as if it was the first table read of a pilot TV script. “I did not,” Susan and Genevieve said at the same time. “I left my phone in my car,” Joel said from the floor. “I am sitting in a chair by the door,” Jesse said and the robbers guffawed at the audacity of this old man, so highly complimenting himself. “Well we have to take hostages now,” the robber said and soon, the police had entered the bank. There was a brief shootout with no injuries, and the robbers were apprehended and the hostages freed shortly thereafter. There was also a fire that engulfed the front of the bank, which helped their efforts to arrest the perpetrators, but police do not understand how it started. They believed it was a diversion, during which time the criminals were able to empty the vault. But they have no leads yet on where this money was taken or how they got into the vault. 

The only other person in the bank that day was vice president Steve Carlsberg, who was not taken hostage, because he had accidentally locked himself in his office. Oh, Steve. Steve said that he eventually kicked his door open, breaking his foot in the process. Oh, Steve! He got free, but only after the criminals had been arrested and the fire extinguished.

None of the three robbers is talking to the police, even after their HBO privileges were taken away from them, so the sheriff is asking anyone in Night Vale with information about this heist to contact him immediately. You can do this by calling the Sheriff’s Secret Police secret tip line, which can be reached by just speaking aloud. They are one of the several organizations that have universal access to your phone’s mic and camera.

I talked to Carlos today. He’s been running his experiments over at my sister Abby’s new house, in an old storage shed out back because, well his laboratory is under renovations and he was making such a huge mess over here with all of his chemicals staining everything. Abby is, of course, married to Steve Carlsberg who is home from the hospital with the cast on his foot. Carlos told me Steve is fine. He is having a hard time adjusting to crutches and he’s still shaken by the whole experience. But he’s focused on rebuilding the bank and getting everyone back to work. He’s been inviting his employees over for lunch this week, to keep everyone on task for reopening the bank, and to treat them to his famous medium rare rosemary chicken recipe.

Carlos said he had met Susan Willman several times before. “She’s delightful,” Carlos said, which I’m sure I misread. He’s also met Jesse before too. “Oh, he’s always over there, real nice guy,” Carlos said. “He once told me, ‘you’re a scientist’, and it was the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to me. So I showed him my lab and just talked his ear off about my doorless fridge project. Jesse got so excited he had to leave after only 15 minutes.” Carlos said that since the robbery, though, Jesse has not looked as cheerful or healthy. Jesse looks sick, like he’s nauseated.

Carlos said he joined the crew for lunch today and cheered them all up with funny stories about science, but he’s taking a break from his experiments and should be home early today. Carlos ran out of the chemicals he needed to continue his work, and has to wait a few more days to get more. “I thought I has plenty of it,” Carlos said, “I calculated exactly how much I needed, but it wasn’t near enough. Well, this is why I studied science instead of math. “Anyway, Steve’s going to be fine,” Carlos said. “I love you.” And I said, “I love you too.” You might think that last part wasn’t necessary for the news story, but it was. Love is the most important news story.

The Sheriff’s Secret Police have announced a breakthrough in their bank robbery investigation. They’ve been interviewing witnesses and combing through their notes and evidence, and they think they have figured out exactly what happened at the bank. They’re planning a full report later today. They had the report ready to go now, but right when they started the press conference, they realized that they probably should make an arrest first, and also because in their excitement to make this announcement, every single person on the police force showed up, leaving the abandoned mine shaft where they keep prisoners unattended, which is probably fine because the cells are all completely locked, but - wow, you never know, right? Better safe than sorry. “Hoo wee,” the representative from the Secret Police said, “We really should go check on that jail. My bad!”

And now a word from our sponsors. Today’s show is brought to you by Budweiser. Have you ever wondered about that house at the end of your street, the one with the windows boarded up? The one that does ever receive sunshine? The one with the incongruous Victorian architecture in your otherwise ranch style tract home suburb? Have you ever dared your friends to spend a night in that house? And they did it, because they don’t like being called weak, and then they re-emerged the next day completely normal as if nothing had happened, only something did happen? Like you couldn’t tell at first because your friend was like, “It was just a house, totally boring”, but you started noticing weird things in their behavior, like they suddenly were fluent in Romanian and they would whisper it to someone you could not see? And then there was that time your friend laughed for 10 straight minutes, and you did not know why, never learned why, and when they finished laughing, all of the trees in your neighborhood were dead? Well, we here at Budweiser know exactly what made your friend laugh, and we know what happened in the house that night. And some day, you will know it. but not today. No, not today. Budweiser: Be glad today is not the day.

The bank robbery earlier this month has understandably shaken customer confidence. So vice president of the Last Bank of Night Vale, Steve Carlsberg, has called a press conference to address public concerns over the security of their bank accounts and investments. Here’s Steve’s statement.

Steve Carlsberg: First I wanna say thank you to all of my valiant and valuable employees. They faced down danger, and without their bravery, we might all be much less fortunate. To Susan Willman, my dear friend: thank you for your leadership under such duress. To Genevieve, our newest employee: you deserve the quickest raise we’ve ever given out, and I promise it won’t always be like this. And to Jesse: you protected our bank for nearly 50 years, and your training finally paid off. Thank you for your service to our safety. And Joel Eisenberg, our lone customer, who stared down those monsters and did not give an inch: to you I say thank you.

I want the people of Night Vale and the customers of the Last Bank to know that we have your security in mind. We are cooperating with the Secret Police, and while this crime is not completely resolved, no customer has lost a single dollar of their savings. We are well insured, and I guarantee you [muffled] all protections are in place.

Cecil: But while Steve Carlsberg was talking, the Sheriff’s Secret Police returned to finish their announcement from earlier.

Steve: Wait, I’m not done yet!

Cecil: Seeing that Steve had claimed the podium in their disorganized absence, the Secret Police had to stand at the back of the room and wait impatiently. Their feet tapping, arms folded, each of them exhaling deeply and intermittently, one of them groaning aloud, “Is he done yet? Ugh.”

Steve: OK, yes, but…

Cecil: One of them staring demonstrably at the clock.

Steve: ..I signed up for this time slot at the podium and no one was here when I arrived, so I’d like to finish. [pause] Are we good? OK, fantastic. So uh, where was I? Oh, I was trapped in my office! I regret that I was not standing with my brave staff during this terrible event, but see, I think someone barred my door to prevent me from coming out there, really letting those robbers have it! I’m a nice guy, but not when my family is in danger. And these people, Genevieve, Susan, Jesse – they are my family. Joel and every other bank customer is my family, and I would do anything, anything, to protect them if they were threatened.

Cecil: Just then, the Secret Police – did you know that a group of police officers is called an obstinency of cops? [ahem] Marched to the podium declaring: “Four o’clock, your time’s up.” Two officers grabbed the mic shouting “Dibs” simultaneously, and then had to play rock, paper, water torture to see who got to speak.

Steve: Hey, hey watch it buddy! I-I-I mean officer. Sorry, uh…

Cecil: The police then announced they had in fact left all of the cells at the abandoned mine shaft locked earlier today, but somehow the three bank robbers escaped. Their cell was still locked and no tunnels or holes were found, yet the three were completely gone. “Dang it,” the police spokesperson said. “The important thing is we tried our best. Anyway,” they continued, “we’re proud to say that we have made an important breakthrough in the bank heist case. We have made a new arrest of the person we believe responsible of the theft at the Last Bank of Night Vale.

Steve: Oo, that’s great!

Cecil: The police then turned to Steve Carlsberg and said: “We have arrested our prime suspect in this conspiracy: Steve Carlsberg.”

Steve: What?

Cecil: The police handcuffed Steve. Oh, Steve…

Steve: No! (--) I didn’t (--) [yelping, inaudible]

Cecil: And led him outside to the back of a squad car. Listeners, I-I-I, I wish I could tell you I’m happy that the police think they have solved this bank robbery, but I cannot tell you that, this is not right. Steve would never. [sighs] While I sit with my feelings, you will sit With the weather.

[“Only One Star” by Ann https://soundcloud.com/carlitta-ann]

Sheriff Sam talked to reporters. These reporters were confused and angry, upset that such a good man, their brother-in-law in fact, could be confused for a master criminals. The Sheriff said the robbery of the bank vault required inside knowledge, someone who worked at the bank, someone who knew the combination of the vault, and could get the money without any damage to the vault, walls or door. Steve is the only employee present who knew the combination. The frustrated, enraged reporters then asked what happened to the money. If Steve stole the money, as they said, surely the police must have recovered it. Sheriff Sam said it’s clear the money has been spent on luxury. The suspect, Steve Carlsberg, bought a brand new house with a storage shed even, the most obvious symbol of opulence. “But he closed on that house weeks ago,” the infuriated reporters stated. “How could he have paid for something before he had the money?” The Sheriff then held up a life-sized promotional cardboard cutout featuring the text “Great mortgage rates are inside of you”. The Sheriff said: “He used something called a mortgage, and elaborate financial scheme where you don’t have to pay until later, a brilliant and evil ploy for bank robbers.” “Mortgages are normal, I have a mortgage,” the displeased reporters responded. “Maybe you’ll be arrested next,” the Sheriff spat. “Also, Steve Carlsberg bought a fancy car for his daughter. He even upgraded the vehicle with hand controls for braking and acceleration. We could tell right there we was flaunting his stolen wealth.” “She’s in a wheelchair,” the disgusted reporters snapped back. “Those controls are necessary and standard.” The Sheriff shrugged and said: “You say tomato, I say criminal.” And with that, they stepped away, smug in their arrest of this innocent man.

I didn’t know what to do, so I called Carlos. He said he was coming home early today, but I haven’t seen him yet. He didn’t answer his phone, so I called my sister Abby. She was understandable upset about her husband’s arrest. I told her I would do everything in my power as an investigative journalist to vindicate Steve, even if it means starting a podcast. She sighed and said: “I know.” When I asked if Carlos was still at her house, she said: “He’s gone.” “Oh good. I’ll see him soon then,” I replied. “No,” Abby said, “You won’t. the police were just here questioning me and Janice. Then they took Carlos with them to the station. They said they’re not done with their investigation.

Listener, stay tuned next for a song and language you have never heard, written in a key not on any scale, played in a time signature that changes with each measure.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: The gum you like is out of style again.

[latvian-parisienne]

Day 2 - Walk 22km per day and dance the night away to balance out the pains-au-chocolat

Have you ever felt anxious? I did today. The ticket registration at our home metro station, Campo Formio, was not working so we did not register our tickets. I never ever use public transportation without a ticket in Riga, and in Paris, after hearing many horror stories about security guards, cameras and big penalties for riding without a ticket, I was scared until the very last moment until we saw the light of day in Monmartre. All turned out well so I think I can now shyly say that I actually managed to use the Paris metro for free.

Accidentally we arrived in Monmartre at the time for the catholic mass. It was an amazing experience. Three priests, the choir singing and people praying - it is not something you get to see in such a popular landmark. And when you see so many people praying there at the same time, it’s magical. 

Afterwards Paris surprised us with its distance again. You can easily walk back to the Centre Pompidou, the to Sciences Po, then to Jardin Tuilleries and then come back home to the 13th arrondissement without even getting completely exhausted. I have never walked so much around Riga because everything feels further there. Here it’s easy. 10 minutes walk and you have another landmark in front of you. Maybe that is the booster needed to walk. Altogether yesterday we walked 22.2km, which is not a crazy amount, I would like to walk even more, but my legs still do not feel tired. I’m wondering when that will happen.

Although I had been at Centre Pompidou a few years ago, I remember it quite different. To be frank, I remember only me not enjoying it very much and having huge queues there. This time we managed to buy the tickets in 3min time and then walk through all expositions in like 2 hours time. A bit of a rush but it was still a great visit.

However, la Tour Eiffel played me very well. From Monmartre you cannot see la Tour Eiffel, I thought it was more to the right than the view includes (as it also turned out to be in the end). When we were walking at the sightseeing platform at Centre Pompidou, I couldn’t find the Tour Eiffel either so I started to brag that “the myth that you can see the Eiffel Tower from any spot in Paris is complete bullsh*t”. Well, in the case of Centre Pompidou it wasn’t true, because you can see it from there. Furthermore, you can see it very clearly. Nothing is far in Paris, that is the key. If you can see it (and you can) you can walk there.

After going back to the school and seeing many unfamiliar faces, we went to Jardins Tuilleries to meet my roommate Sorina’s Moldovan friends who are studying in Lyon. Not only they were amazing people to talk to (they are aware of history of Latvia and of our language group, which is not a usual thing for such small country as Latvia) but they showed as the Musée de l’Orangérie. It is a quite small but very concentrated art gallery full with both classic and well-known painting as well as beautiful artworks that cover the whole room. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an arts guru as my mates seemed to be, but everything was very enjoyable and that’s the most important part.

When we got home, we started to prepare for the Boat Party that Sciences Po was organizing. We could have started getting ready an hour later because the party started 40 minutes later than expected. Everyone was standing outside of the boat and mingling among themselves while serious guards were standing before the entrance. While waiting for the impossible to happen (or the party to start) we managed to meet several Taiwanese and American students, a Finnish student, a Romanian student, and so many more people that it was a great exchange. The party can start later if we can meet new people anyway.

Usually people from the other side of the globe simply do not know where Latvia is and I am aware of such situations. A fun thing happened when I tried to explain to two French students in English where Latvia was. When I mentioned the Baltic States, I heard one of them whispering to the other that I am from the USA. When I corrected her in French and said that I’m from Lettonie, they understood immediately. And why wouldn’t they - as it turned out, one girl’s mom was from Poland. And we’re almost neighbors.

Actually that is so funny whenever you meet a person from Europe, especially Nordic Europe, you already feel like you’ve met a neighbor. Finland, Norway, everything counts. They know where you come from, maybe they have even visited your country, and you feel like you have met someone who’s at least coming from the same side of the globe.

However, the older I get, the less I enjoy club-like parties (good luck, Marta, enjoying the one you are going to tonight haha). It’s so crowded, you cannot even communicate with people, you just have to dance with people jumping on your feet and bumping into your head. C’est la vie at a big university. And don’t even think about knowing the people you see! I’m kiiiinda missing my SSE Riga parties where you know everyone and you greet with everyone. Here it’s none. 800 Bachelor exchange students and even more French students. What can I expect, of course, but I miss knowing people. But probably the best parties will be more fun since I will know more people and (hopefully) they will also not feature 400 people on a small boat. Imagine the biggest SSE Riga party and put it on the “Vecrīga” yacht. That’s what you get. Many people, big mess and no opportunity to talk to anyone or to dance in a bigger space. Luckily everyone was understanding about the lack of space and it was possible to have fun up until 3pm until we both got really tired. And the taxi driver offered us chewing gum. I am still not sure whether we were stinking or he was simply nice but that’s left to rest unknown.

[trashartandmovies]

Berlinale Film Festival 2021, Industry Event, Day 2

One of the great treats of going to a film festival is getting the chance to wake up and see some transgressive mindfuckery first thing in the morning. This can be either thrilling, like seeing ANTICHRIST at 10:00 AM in Toronto and then being excited to see if the rest of the day’s movies can top that; or it can knock you out for the rest of the day, like seeing IRRADIATED at last year’s Berlinale and needing to process my contempt and hope for humanity.

Of course, part of the thrill of these experiences has been sitting with an audience and going through the mindfuckery as a collective, feeling the energy, seeing people walk out, getting through it together. When things are moved online, and the timing and schedule of your streaming film festival is more or less up to you, many pleasures are lost. But I have to say, there was a thrill in getting up at sunrise to put on some headphones and sit with THE SCARY OF SIXTY-FIRST, an effectively wild and perverse shriek of a movie from first-time director Dasha Nekrasova, and part of this year’s Encounters section.

Shot in New York City, on beautiful 16mm film, THE SCARY is a steep plummet down the conspiracy theory rabbit hole, triggered by the death of Jeffrey Epstein and two roommates moving into a new apartment on 61st Street that may be linked to the man and the sex trafficking ring he was involved with. These details are merely the place setting for an aggressive and sometimes messy assault on good taste and mainstream cinematic conventions. The two roommates descend into different kinds of madness — Addie seems to be possessed by some sort of evil within the apartment, while Noelle is quickly consumed by the conspiracy theories circling Epstein, the royal family, pizzagate, etc. Wedged between the two is Nekrasova herself, playing an amateur sleuth who indoctrinates Noelle with lurid websites, pharmaceutical speed, and sex. From there, the rabbit hole just keeps getting wider and weirder, Addie becomes obsessed with Prince Andrew and creepy tarot cards keep popping up. There will be blood.

I found it all pretty damn intoxicating, but I can understand that others will be put off by its shrillness and lack of subtlety. While the movie is dedicated to Stanley Kubrick, and it gets some inspiration from EYES WIDE SHUT, it’s more along the lines of John Waters crossed with John Carpenter. If you hated FEMALE TROUBLE, you may want to stay away from THE SCARY OF SIXTY-FIRST. Otherwise, this movie sits comfortably next to the kind of outre indie horror movies that got passed from VCR to VCR in the late 80s and early 90s. But what really makes THE SCARY kick, is how directly it speaks to the age of QAnon, the equal parts seduction and repulsion of violence, and the horror that comes from being trapped in a system you have no control over. My only complaint is that the film leans a little too heavily on old horror tropes right at the end, but this couldn’t take away the thrills it provided up to that point. I’m already looking forward to how Nekrasova might follow-up this one.

This year’s Golden Bear for best film went, deservedly, to Radu Jude’s BAD LUCK BANGING, OR LOONEY PORN. Another extremely transgressive film, this one takes a flamethrower to contemporary values in Romania and any other place where racism, sexism and authoritarian fetishism have taken root — meaning, it’s both very specific to Romania and quite universal.

The movie begins with a very graphic and absurdly funny home porno, being shot on a phone. Soon enough, we find out the woman in the video is Emi, a respected history teacher at a private school in Bucharest. The first act of the movie is Emi walking through Bucharest. The city is littered with signs of capitalism run amok, juxtaposed against fervent religiosity. Gambling and wholesomeness. Tastelessness and righteousness. The camera makes these connections with some choice camera panning maneuvers. These movements bring to mind Robert Altman’s style of movement — casual yet smart and impactful.

As Emi makes her way to her destination, the film’s regard for realism begins to deteriorate. Bit by bit, drivers begin showing less regard for the safety of pedestrians. Everyone is foul-mouthed and inconsiderate of others, even while wearing pandemic masks. If you can’t afford a car, who cares about you? It’s not that far from reality, but the pointed exaggerations start piling up and lead us into the mid-section of the film, where we’re treated to an A-Z montage of our most pressing issues and what’s wrong with the world. It both serves as a rundown of the topics that are going to present themselves in the final act of the movie, as well as more visual evidence of our corrupted values and moral decay. It’s a bitter and bleak hoot.

It’s all leading to a confrontation between Emi and her school’s parent-teacher board. It’s one of the most absurd, insulting and cuttingly insightful trials put on film. What are a teacher’s responsibilities outside the classroom? What if the teacher in this situation were a man? What if the teacher is also including lessons about Romanian history that today’s citizens would rather not deal with? All of this and much more is on the table for riotous discussion. More than once, someone cackles the Woody Woodpecker laugh when the debate really goes off the rails. While the visual language in the final act settles into a more conventional groove, the sound editing is something of a tour de force. It’s punchy, freewheeling, obscenely hilarious and brings the movie to an unbelievable final moment.

BAD LUCK is a hard act to follow. If I’d known how ambitious it was, I would have saved it for day’s final screening. But for better or worse, the next film was a very quiet, understated Competition title — this one from Hungary (which was well-represented this year), entitled NATURAL LIGHT. Written and directed by Nagy Dénes, this is a gorgeously shot war-is-hell movie that follows a weathered unit of Hungarian soldiers as they try to round up Russian partisans during WWII. Yes, the title of the movie perfectly describes the golden, autumnal hue of the movie, as it is primarily set in barren forests, small, sooty villages and fields with plenty of mud.

The film is based on a massive book by novelist Pál Závada, but Dénes made the interesting decision to just focus his movie on a few days in the life of István Semetka, who is forced to step up and take charge of his unit early on in the film. Aside from capturing the unrelenting force of their natural surroundings, cinematographer Tamás Dobos also does an amazing job of capturing people’s faces — not unlike the films of fellow countryman, Bela Tarr. Ferenc Szabó, who plays the beleaguered Semetka, has two of the most soulful eyes I’ve seen on screen lately. This is of critical importance since the film has very little dialog until a couple of well-written monologues at the end. Semetka’s eyes say it all.

As mournfully beautiful as it is, NATURAL LIGHT isn’t an easy movie to sit through. It’s quiet and heartbreaking. But this level of sorrow and atrocities is also very familiar to cinema. In a way, it’s unfair because this story, in its way, is unique. But the message of how indifferent war is to soldiers with good intentions, has been told before. Few movies, however, have told it in such a wordless and poetic way.

Throughout the history of film, there’s always been a struggle to turn good theater into cinematic art. When talkies began and TV took off, we turned to the wealth of good theater scripts that already existed as readymade source material that could meet the demand for content. Sometimes it works, and the scripts can be well-adapted into the cinematic language. Other times, it’s like we’re just looking at a filmed documentation of a theater piece, which relies heavily on the strength of the words and performance, and not on any tools of the filmic trade. Denis Côté’s new film does a neat job of adding a new wrinkle to this long tradition of finding ways to turn monologues and long chunks of dialog between two people into an engaging work of film.

Côté has always had a strong experimental streak to his work, and even though he wrote this script and titled it “Social Hygiene” in 2015, it would seem that the current pandemic gave him the final push to turn the unusual idea of long, socially distant conversations in a field into a movie. Aside from a few shots that follow a young woman as she walks through nature, says hi to some livestock and offers an intermission dance sequence, SOCIAL HYGIENE is a series of static shots, framing different sections of rolling Canadian countryside, and containing a couple of people talking to each other across a certain distance. The framing, the sounds, the tone and rhythms of the conversation, are all very stylized. And in its way, perfectly cinematic. Côté pays attention to the ambient noises during these scenes. Birds turn into a cackling audience, construction noises go quiet and resume at just the right moments — it’s all very well-orchestrated.

The story and conversations of SOCIAL HYGIENE have nothing to do with the pandemic. It’s the fairly universal story of a charismatic, smooth-talking guy of unmet potential, who is consistently disappointing the women in his life. This man is Antonin, and we first meet him as he bickers with his sister. While Antonin is married, he’s currently living in a friend’s car, getting by through small-time theft and avoiding plans that might improve his lot in life, like working on that screenplay he’s been kicking around. Both his wife and his mistress try to prod him in the right direction, but he’s such a charmer that he enjoys spinning his destitution as the life of a lovable rogue, who’s morals and values can’t be met by traditional means.

More than any other film seen, so far, from this year’s Berlinale lineup, SOCIAL HYGIENE had me laughing-out-loud the most. And I’m very willing to admit that this is likely due to how much I related to Antonin’s faulty reasoning. But it’s also due to the fact that the script is supremely sharp and its deadpan delivery brought to mind Hal Hartley’s films. Like Hartley, Côté is anti-realist in his staging and delivery, meticulous in his timing, and yet uses humor to get at some very fundamental human dilemmas. I love Hartley and miss his sensibility dearly. So, yes, I loved every minute of SOCIAL HYGIENE.

Even with a press pass, it can be a challenge to sit for every Competition screening. There are simply too many other films that call for your attention. But in this streaming scenario, I was committed to seeing every last one. I felt like I didn’t have any good excuse not to when you can make your own daily schedule. So, Xavier Beauvois’s ALBATROS (or DRIFT AWAY, as it may end up being called in your neck of the woods) got a late Tuesday night home screening. It didn’t go down well.

The only one of Beauvois’s previous films that I’m familiar with is 2005’s THE YOUNG LIEUTENANT, which follows a homicide detective in La Havre. ALBATROS follows a police chief in the much more idyllic region of Normandy. Jérémie Renier plays the cop, Laurent, and just as the movie starts, he’s just proposed to his girlfriend of ten years, with whom he already has a young daughter. In the next scene he’s cleaning up after a suicide on the beach, and then there’s news of child abuse by local resident, and his friend is at the end of his rope dealing with farming regulations. Things are piling up quickly, and the chipper Laurent is soon getting edgy and taking his work home with him.

The beginning of the movie isn’t bad. It’s clearly building to something and it can hold your interest while it does that. But when that shoe drops, the film goes off the rails and descends into a completely ridiculous and phony final act. It doesn’t help matters that Beauvois never really finds an interesting visual language with which to tell this story. From the get-go, his camera is just there, shooting scenes and conversations in a way that makes everything seem slightly off and unnatural. It feels like things are being staged, much as the wedding photo on the beach that gets interrupted by a death at the very beginning. Unfortunately it never shakes this feeling, and two hours later, you can’t believe that you’re watching an ending so clichéd that Hollywood would probably think twice before giving it a greenlight. It’s the kind of denouement that is so cheesy and unearned that instead of choking back tears, you feel completely cheated.

Aside from ALBATROS, Day Two was a rich abundance. The punk stylings of THE SCARY OF SIXTY-FIRST, the anarchic Molotov cocktail of BAD LUCK BANGING OR LOONEY PORN, the austere meditation of NATURAL LIGHT, the playful theatrics of SOCIAL HYGIENE — these all had something special to offer. Tomorrow, we’ll visit China, France, Georgia and, once again, Hungary, for two more films with big rewards and two that struggled to transcend their formal trappings.