#go roxbury

[go-bac]

Staying organized? I like to use block timing to help stay organized and focused. At the beginning of every semester I find my families rhythm and I fill in my school, work and personal time around that. I make sure I know the rhythm for the day and also the week, both very important for me. Block timing helps me with decision fatigue, anxiety over deadlines, feeling spread to thin and jumping around from task to task, which can be exhausting! I find that I can get done what needs to be done in the allotted time, which helps me to not dedicate too much time to one task.

[xxweyussyenjoyerxx]

@jeffrey-combs-smash-or-pass they’re absolutely not getting into the Roxbury (Holosuite Guest could if only he wasn’t so far away and blurry)

[timmurleyart]

27 Dudley street. 🎵🥁🎤🎹🎸🎷🎶

[hypertextdog]

YOU -- mm i want a fat man on me gaystyle but with clothes on

FURRY INCLINATION [Medium: Success] -- Any *animalline traits* to him, two-legs?

SENSATION -- That would do nicely, texturally speaking...

YOU -- not for now, but i'll keep that in mind.

POSTER'S GAMBIT [Easy: Success] -- Yes. YES. It's the perfect emotion. Everyone wants -- even if not that. So generalize, blogsman. Ambiguate. With this, you can finally build your *viral empire.*

BROAD APPEAL [Hard: Success] -- With your crowd: three faves, and a flirtatious re-blog from some fur-fag. Eight if the bitcoinette or the not-lycanthrope touches it...

POSTER'S GAMBIT -- Try again. We're *this* close to another "you have to let 'denny's parking lot at 3am' go."

YOU -- mm i want big men on me gaystyle #gay #mlm #lgbt #asexual

SENSATION [Medium: Success] -- But it's not about "big" -- "big" alone is nothing. Non descript. You crave *plasticity* -- you want to feel him pushing through, between your fingers...

FURRY INCLINATION -- Oh, yes. Sounds *sonft,* two-legs.

SENSATION -- *Really* sonft. If we must say it that way. And so *heavy* on our supine body, too. I almost wonder if we could...

New task: Administer the *auto-hand-job.*

SENSATION -- Yeah.

POSTER'S GAMBIT -- NEVER MIND THEM. Never mind any of that. You're almost there. Keep going, blogsman. *Earn* the U.R.L.

BROAD APPEAL [Hard: Success] -- Thirteen faves, four reblogs. None flirtatious -- none you think.

YOU -- what's missing?

BROAD APPEAL -- What do you think?

YOU [Impossible: Success] -- the *sapphic* factor.

BROAD APPEAL -- Exactly right. I *told* you I'm named this way for a reason...

HIGH SCHOOL G.S.A. -- Do it for Erin. And Michaela. I wonder if they're still...

BROAD INTUITION [Medium: Success] -- They're not.

YOU -- mm i want big men or women on me #lgbt #ambiguously queer

HIGH SCHOOL G.S.A. -- Ah-ah-ah.

BROAD APPEAL -- And about that word "big" ... you know what has to happen.

YOU -- but that's the core of it to me, kind of.

POSTER'S GAMBIT [Easy: Success] -- And to the fur-fag sector.

BROAD APPEAL -- A sector is nothing. We want the *website* in our hands. Even the proponents of Astarion, and the proprietors of "best girls"...

YOU -- Yuck.

BROAD APPEAL -- I know. But they're the only way.

VANITY [Easy: Failure] -- God, we'll be on *Ellen.*

BROAD APPEAL -- Enough of that. She's out.

YOU [Impossible: Success] -- mm i want anything at all #lgbt #ambiguously queer #asexual

POSTER'S GAMBIT -- STOP THERE. YOU'VE FOUND IT, BLOGSMAN. QUICKLY -- BEFORE WE BOTH FORGET -- TYPE IT UP AND POST.

BROAD APPEAL -- The known numbers don't go high enough. You've found a ticket out of here -- out of *Massachusetts.*

SHIVERS -- IN 2027, A METEOR THE SIZE OF A KLEAN KANTEEN WILL LAND IN THE CENTER OF ROXBURY AND LEVEL BOSTON WITH ITS ZETTA-JOULES OF IMPACT ENERGY. TOO SMALL AND TOO QUICK FOR EVEN M.I.T.'S OBSERVATORY-BOYS TO DETECT.

POSTER'S GAMBIT -- More important things than that are happening -- and sooner, too. Type it up, blogsman. This is the easy part...

YOU -- You type: "mm i want anything at all #lgbt #ambiguously queer #asexual."

SENSATION [Hard: Success] -- Stop. Go back. It's dishonest.

BROAD APPEAL -- This was never about you -- you were only ever the basis on which *this* could be constructed. If that...

POSTER'S GAMBIT -- Post it, blogsman. Make the world relate to you.

YOU -- You hit: "post."

YOU -- The progress bar reaches -- reaches -- completes. A green light indicates success.

POSTER'S GAMBIT -- YES. YES... Oh, I suppose we should have waited for *optimum posting hours.* It doesn't matter now. It's done -- and the onslaught faves will begin rolling in catastrophically in three... two...

POSTER'S GAMBIT -- In three... two...

Thought gained: Any day now...

POSTER'S GAMBIT -- Don't worry, blogsman. Just keep checking your phone -- the *wi-fi* here is *bunk,* anyway.

VANITY -- And once it does -- Ellen.

[ursuburbanmother]

I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter Two

Pairing: Angus Tully x fem!reader

a/n: Hi guys! Back with chapter two!! Thank you for all the love last chapter! You guys are too sweet! I hope you like this chapter as well, although we get a little angsty in this one oops. Also author note at the end!

Word count: 5k.

Find: Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Enjoy!

December 17, 1970. Still.

Paul Hunham didn’t think his luck could get any worse but then that moron at the Janie Patrick's Girl School had to go make his problems, his. Then at the young lady’s arrival Angus Tully practically had hearts popping out his eyes like those cartoon characters on TV. That would be an issue. An issue he had to deal with at once.

As the boys grumbled and moaned on their way to the infirmary, as if they were the Athenians sent to march to Marathon in 490 BC, he made his way to the kitchen, looking for a certain cook.

“Hello, Mary,” he greets. She sits at her desk with a cigarette between two fingers, writing something down in her notebook.

“Mr. Hunham. I heard you got stuck with babysitting duty this year. How’d you manage that?” Her tone tiptoes on the edge of teasing.

“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I failed someone who richly deserved it.”

“The Osgood kid? Yeah, he was a real asshole. Rich and dumb. Popular combination around here.”

“It’s a plague. Uh, and you? You’ll be here, too?” God, he hopes she is. He doesn’t think he will be able to survive as the only adult on the school grounds.

To his relief she nods her head, “All by my lonesome. My little sister Peggy and her husband invited me to go visit them in Roxbury, but I feel like it’s too soon. Like Curtis will think that I’m abandoning him, you know. This is the last place my baby and I were together, not including the bus station.”

Paul pursues his lips, unsure of what to say. “Well, maybe you won't be completely alone. How would you feel about letting a female student sleep in the staff common room? We could push some couches together, I'm sure. Make a nice bed that way.”

“Female student? What do you mean?”

“I’m unsure about the exact details, but I have been entrusted by the idiots across the lake with taking care of one of their students.”

“Ahh,” Mary is beginning to understand.

He nods, “Her name is Y/n L/n, I think she and Tully are in cahoots somehow. You should've seen the way he looked at her.”

“Oh no, don't do that though. You can’t have that poor girl sleep on a lumpy couch all break. She needs a bed.”

“I just want this whole ordeal to go smoothly. If I can keep those two as far away as possible, I believe all will be well.”

“Please that Tully boy wouldn't try anything. Sometimes he is the only one to say thank you when we place the food down on the lunch tables.”

Paul mulls it over for a second. “I suppose I could give it a try. Not that I think it is wise.”

Mary smiles slightly, “I know those kids are hard to handle but hold out hope for them. Some trust too. It's not too late yet. Their brains are still moldable or whatever corny crap you teachers say.”

Paul smiles slightly, his attention pulled to the bottle of bourbon on her desk, “You mind if I uh…”

“You want some of that? All right.”

“Thank you.”

“You know this is a necessity,” Mary says as she pours the liquid into a mug for him.

“Oh yes,” for life, love, pain or the next two weeks. Paul understands too well.

…

“Put the bed farther away Angus,” you say, your arms on your hips and you watch him struggle to drag his bed closer to yours.

“Why? Do I smell or something?”

“It's already a stretch to think he might let us sleep in the same room, he's definitely not going to let your bed be that close to mine.”

Huffing he begins to scoot it back to its original place, “Fine.”

Music has started blaring loudly from where Teddy and Jason are bunking in. Park and Ollerman are minding their business in their own space. You are across, what you think will be the place Mr. Hunham will stay in. Your hope is that him having an accessible view will make him more lenient towards you and Angus, despite his earlier warning of having you be on your own.

You situate your lavender near the window and begin to unpack your things. Angus does the same and you can hear his rustling get faster.

“What's wrong?” You ask.

“My…” He trails off. Suddenly he storms off like a man on a mission. You ignore the magazine you were flipping through and let it fall on the floor as you get up to follow him.

You see him head directly towards Kountze. “Where’s my photo?”

“What photo?”

“I think you know what photo, and you stole it.”

“I resent that baseless accusation.”

“Give me my goddamn picture!” Angus shouts.

“Hey man, if you took the photo just give it back,” you plead exasperatedly to Teddy, already tired of his whole innocent act.

“Stay out of it Y/n, it's alright,” Angus assures you and you move back to lean against the doorway. You sort of hope Angus socks him.

Kountze leaps to his feet and stalks towards him, “You need your girlfriend to defend you now? Seriously, what's your problem, Tully? Homesick? Maybe the little boy misses his mommy?”

“Fuck you, Kountze. Leave her out of it. And hey, why are you even here anyway? Where’s your family?”

“We’re renovating our house. It’s all torn up. They’re storing the tools and stuff in my room.” “That’s what they told you? It’s winter, idiot. Nobody renovates their house in the winter. Your parents don’t want you around because you’re a fucking insecure sociopath.”

“Hey, take it easy, guys.”

You can see Angus getting angrier. His shoulders are tense and in a last ditch effort you go up to him and whisper in his ear, “Punch him later. In private. Hunham won’t even hear our reasoning for rooming together. He’ll punish you by punishing me.”

Misery loves company, right? That was the saying at least. In your mind, suffering with Angus was better than the alternative. You didn’t want to spend these two weeks inside a glass case. From what you had seen, Hunham would have no problem in making you sit at your own lunch table or study in a separate classroom. You know that is what Ms. Orchard would have done if she was forced to take in the boys. She would have locked you in your dorm and insisted it was because you would “distract” them.

You can see the gears turning in Angus’s mind. He bites the inside of his cheek and finally nods before turning back to glare at Kountze. “You’re an asshole. I just needed you to know that.”

He turns around to retreat back to the room only to run straight into Mr. Hunhams chest. Angus leaps off and leans his back against the wall. Your own eyes widened, you hadn’t even heard the man's footsteps.

He surveys the room and notes all your disheveledness. Teddy's face looks flushed while Angus is still trying to control his heavy breathing. Everyone is completely silent and too scared to even make a move.

“What is going on here?”

“They weren’t fighting,” Alex squeaked. Mr. Hunham only seems to grow more suspicious. He shifted his sights to you and his eyebrow begins to raise, “They weren’t bothering you were they.”

“No. We were just talking,” you swallow the lump in your throat.

“What about?”

“Hmm?” You hum, straightening up.

“What were you all discussing mere seconds before I barged in on what, I am sure, was a highly intellectual conversation.”

“Shocking Blue,” you blurt out and Hunham turns his head as if asking for clarification. “The band that was on the radio.”

“Yeah, we love Shocking Blue,” Angus nods. The rest of the boys chime in, faking their agreement.

“They’re so good.”

“I listen to them all the time.”

Mr. Hunham continues to look unconvinced. Without a word he walks out, and you all collectively let out a sigh of relief. For a moment, you all stare at each other with giddiness. Like when you're a kid and get away with stealing a cookie from the cooling tray. You let yourself relax but shrivel back up upon the echo of Mr. Hunham's haunting voice, “Mr. Tully, Ms. L/n, in here. NOW.”

You frown, gazing up at Angus, “I think he found the room.”

…

After a stern talking to, Mr. Hunham begrudgingly agreed to let you and Angus sleep in the same room. He took a string of jingle bells that hung from a nearby Christmas decoration and tied it around Angus’s bedpost so that if he dared to move, he would hear it. You two were just fine with that.

Later you were escorted to the large dining hall. Mr. Hunham sat at the head of the table as the rest of you indulged in mindless chatter. You and Angus were on your third round of rock, paper, scissors, competing for nothing, when a lady came in to set down a platter of chicken, potatoes and asparagus.

“Lovely. Thank you, Mary.” the older man says.

You wait for the initial rush of grubby hands and pushing elbows to pass before you serve yourself, when you find that Angus already did it for you. He sets down the plate in front of you and then gets himself a serving of the green vegetable on his own dish.

“Didn’t we already have this for lunch?” Jason asks.

“And it was crappy then,” Teddy says through his eager chewing. You gag at the scene.

“Consider yourselves lucky. During the third Punic campaign, 149-146 B.C., the Romans laid siege to Carthage for three entire years. By the time it ended, the Carthaginians were reduced to eating sand and drinking their own urine. Hence the term punitive.”

The woman from earlier, that you now know is Mary, returns with some water. You give her a passing smile which she returns.

“Mary, maybe you’d, um, maybe you would care to join us,” Hunham stumbles through his words.

Kountze looks up from his food then glances at you with alarm. Like he can't fathom the idea of sitting with the cook.

You think Mary can sense his disdain when you notice her demeanor sour after a glimpse in his direction. “No, I’m all right. Thank you.” She escapes through the kitchen doors.

Teddy pipes up, “I mean, I know she’s sad about her son and everything, but still, she’s getting paid to do a job. And she should do it well, right?”

The chewing and scraping of silverware halts. You and Angus gauge each other's reaction, both of you completely shocked and slightly horrified. That boy for some reason just never knows when to shut up and continues, “But I guess no matter how bad a cook she is, now they can never fire her.”

“Will you shut up!” Mr. Hunham yells loud enough for you to flinch. He slams his fork and knife down. “You have no idea what that woman has… For most people, Mr. Kountze, life is like a henhouse ladder -- shitty and short. You were born lucky. Maybe someday you entitled little degenerates will appreciate that. If you don’t, I feel sorry for you, and we will not have done our jobs. Now eat!”

…

You're on your bed and catching up on some reading and soaking in the orange hue that the bedside lamp offers you. The boys are still getting ready for bed, and you were graciously offered the first shift in the showers. You’re waiting for your hair to dry when Angus walks in with his pajamas on, and a towel draped over his shoulders.

“You look very dapper,” You smirk.

“Thank you,” he plops down into his mattress. “You think Walleye is still mad?”

“Probably. I don’t blame him.”

“It made for a pretty awkward evening though.”

“Not one of the worst dinners I ever had. I’d rather endure another night like this than any dinner with my parents.”

“Oh yeah,” he sighs, “Your parents... You never did tell me the reason why you’re here holding over.”

You shuffle around in your bed and bring your blanket up to your neck, “Doesn’t matter.”

“Come on, it's just me now. Tell me. I told you!”

“It's no big reason, just small ones. They didn’t specify. I didn’t want to go home. It's complicated.”

“Okay you just gave like four different excuses right there. What happened? Is it super embarrassing? Did they forget about you or something,” he laughs.

You wince at his words and pray that the world opens up and swallows you whole. Realization dawns on his face, “Oh shit. Did they?”

You nod solemnly and begin picking on the thread of the blanket, trying to make the threading come undone.

“How could they do that? The same assholes who always make a huge deal about RSVPs and invitations. Seriously?”

“It’s alright. I’ll live. I mean what would I have done if I was there? I’d be in my room and waiting for them to drag me out so they could introduce me to people. They’d act like doting parents, ditching me a second later to play blackjack with their friends.”

“I’m sorry. I wish you would have told me, we could’ve… I could have done something.”

You smile, “I didn’t tell you cause I know you. You would’ve cursed them out the minute you had hold of them. Anyways, maybe it was faith to get stranded at Barton.”

“Or bad luck,” he quips, “maybe the universe wants us to die of mundanity together.”

“Either or,” you grin. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let's go to bed.”

Angus nods and spreads his long limbs across the bed exaggeratingly before turning to face the wall. “Whatever you want. Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight,” you go to turn off the lamp, wondering if you're being paranoid in sensing something off in the way he says your name.

…

December 20, 1970

The last few days had been the same grueling routine. Mr. Hunham would wake you up with the banging of bedpans and you would groan and try to shove yourself deep into your pillows.

“All right, you fetid layabouts,” he would say, “It’s daylight in the swamp. Arise!”

In the quad you were all forced to run laps. You hadn’t anticipated doing exercise, so you were forced to wear some joggers from the lost and found. You had been able to convince him that walking would be better suited for you and your imaginary cramps. His face had completely paled, and he hadn’t even let you finish speaking when he said you walking would be just fine. Men and their immaturity, you think.

When Angus and the rest of the boys would pass by you, he would glare jokingly at you while you would stick your tongue out and wave him goodbye as he flew past you.

During study hall, you would read some more and ignore the ongoing feud between Kountze and Angus. In the span of the last few days, you must have read three entire books. There was a lot of downtime in between recreational time with Mr. Hunham and dinner.

Today you had all decided to walk along the river. You can hear the church bells in the distance signaling the fact that it is the afternoon. Angus is swinging around a branch while Teddy and Jason pass around a football. You steer clear of both. You walk in sync with Alex and Ye-Joon. You’ve taken a liking to them. They remind you of the little sibling you always wanted but never got.

“What about your car?” Angus suggests, “We could take it, go somewhere. Boston maybe.” Jason shakes his head, “Nah, we’d get in so much trouble. Face it. We’re stuck.”

“If we just had some way to get out of here. Just split,” Angus kicks a pile of snow.

“Well, you could put a chopper down right in the Quad.”

“A what?”

“A helicopter, dumb ass,” Teddy snaps, “His old man’s CEO of Pratt & Whitney.”

“Got his own bird,” Jason confirms, “Takes it from Stamford to the city every morning. Lands right in our backyard. Pilot’s name, Wild Bill.”

“Wild Bill?” Ye-Joon awes.

“Yeah. Flew up to Haystack with it. Took the presents and everything. Minus me,” he shrugs.

“Flying with presents, like Santa Claus,” Alex comments with glee.

“Yeah. Just like Santa Claus.”

Jason whistles and tilts his head for Teddy to “go long.” They play catch, getting farther from the group as they go.

“If I was back home right now back in Provo, it would be really warm inside, and my mom would be making baked apples, and the whole house would smell like cinnamon and brown sugar,” Alex reminisces. You smile sadly at the boy.

“That sounds so nice,” Ye-Joon agrees.

Kountze runs back suddenly and grabs one of Alex’s gloves and throws it into the river.

“What's wrong with you?” You intervene.

“Hey!” Alex says simultaneously.

“That’s what you get for ratting me out, little Mormon,” Teddy laughs, not an ounce of regret at what he just did. You tap Angus’s shoulder as you go trailing after the young boy, “I’m going to go help.”

“It’s gone! My glove’s gone!” Ollerman shouts. You continue searching for it through the clearing.

“Twisted fucker orphaned that glove on purpose. Left you with one so the loss would sting that much more,” Angus shouts back.

Ollerman looks to be on the verge of tears. He stares down at his hands and starts walking down a snowy ramp. He throws the other glove before you can do anything to stop it. He watches it disappear downstream as you make your own way down.

“Did your mother make you that?”

He nods. “It’s alright. I know where he keeps his wallet. We’ll steal it and buy a new one.”

You manage to bring out a muffled laugh from him. You consider it a win.

…

Angus wakes up in the middle of the night to see you knitting. He gets up from the bed to see your progress.

“Oh hello, grandma,” he scoffs. “When did you learn to do that?”

“Girl scouts before I quit. You guys had a bunch of yarn just rotting behind your auditorium stage. Did you know that?”

“No? Are you making that for the kid?”

“Yeah, I feel bad.”

“That looks like crap,” Angus chuckles as he messes around with the gloves fingers. You swat his hand away.

“I never said I earned the badge. Besides, it's the thought that counts.”

“I’m going to get a glass of water. You want some?”

“No thanks.”

Angus leaves the room, only to return a couple seconds later.

“Ye-Joon is crying,” he whispers. You furrow your eyebrows and get up to follow him. His cries become louder, and you turn the corner to see the poor boy shivering.

“Are you all right?” You ask.

“I had a nightmare,” You crouch down so you can hear him better.

“Don’t worry we get nightmares too. Right Angus?”

“Yeah, I’m always falling. Or drowning.”

“Also, I had an accident,” he weeps.

You motion for Angus to check. He doesn't have to look far.

“Yeah, you did. Shhh. Stop crying. If they hear you, they’ll crucify you. Which would be ironic, since you’re Buddhist.”

“I know it’s an excellent school, and my brothers went here. But I miss my family, and I have no friends,” he sobs full-on. You hush him gently.

“You have plenty of time to make friends. You’re like a freshman, right? I would start worrying when you're fifty and living vicariously through your kids.”

“Yeah man. You could have a thousand friends and not like any of them. What would be the point of having them then,” Angus adds.

“We’ll help you hide the sheets in the morning, all right?” You wipe his tears with a tissue from a Kleenex box nearby. “Find a dry spot and try to get some sleep.”

“Thank you,” Park smiles consoled. Before going back to bed you ask him one last thing, “Hey do you like gloves?”

Ye-Joon gives you a quizzical look. …

December 22, 1970

Once again, you’re all studying in silence in a fancy room with portraits of dead white guys on the wall.

Mr. Hunham clears his throat loudly and Jason leans in to mutter in disgust, “Are you kidding me? It’s only eleven and he’s already lit. I can smell the whiskey on him.”

“Can you blame him? It’s freezing in here. It’s fucking Greenland in here,” Angus retorts.

From outside you hear the faint whirring of a machine. Not a car but something else. You all approach the window and spot the helicopter flying above the trees. It lands in the quad just like Jason had said it could. An older man steps out and he looks like one of the men you imagine roam Wall Street.

“He finally caved, the big softie!” Smith exclaims. He all but skips to the door and turns to you all, “Hey, any of you guys like to ski?”

You and Hunham stay behind as the rest go racing after him, filled with hope for what must be the first time in days. He goes to subdue the riot they make as they whoop down the hall, but you stop him by grabbing a hold of the end of his sleeve.

“Uh, sir? If Jason is inviting us, would you have to call our parents?”

“That would be proper protocol, yes.”

“Oh. Is there a way I could stay here then? I never cared for skiing and my parents would say no anyway.”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I’d have to ask Woodrup about this first. Come on along,” he clears the path for you.

Grumbling, you find your way to the administrative offices. Hunham, Jason and his father shut themselves in a room. The boys along with Angus all try to listen in on the conversation by pressing their face as close as humanly possible against the glass. You watch from the sideline as Jason gives you guys a thumbs up. The hallway erupts in cheers and a minute later Mr. Hunham steps out with an announcement, “Gentlemen, good news. I was able to reach Dr. Woodrup and your parents. Most of them, anyway.”

Paul glances at Angus and you. Angus expression falters.

As the rest pack, you find refuge in your room. You can, however, hear Angus’s pleads.

“Try calling again. Just one more time. Please.”

“There’s no point. The desk clerk said no one’s answering. He says they’re away on some excursion.”

“Excursion,” he repeats.

Mr. Hunham scoffs, “I’m as disappointed as you are, if not more so. I could be spending the rest of my vacation reading mystery novels.”

“Maybe they’re back by now. Just call again.”

“Okay,” he gives in and marches down the corridor.

Ye-Joon had wished you goodbye a moment ago and now does the same for Angus, “Happy Holidays.”

“Same to you.”

“Take care, Tully.” Smith follows Park, giving him a pitiful pat on the arm.

You catch Alex as he is about to exit. You’ve wrapped the gloves you worked on endless last night in newspapers. “This is for you. Try not to get them stolen by Teddy again. I don’t think my fingers can handle another round of knitting.”

Ollerman smiles genuinely, giving you a hug you didn’t expect. You’re unable to return it as he has your stiff arms completely glued to your side. You follow him out, and Angus scowls in your direction.

“Why aren’t you more upset about this? That was our only way out and we blew it.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Did you really want to go skiing with Kountze that badly?”

“No, I wanted to get out of here badly. Your parents seriously didn’t answer either?”

“Um-.”

“Hey, you know what! Maybe Hunham can call them again and they can take us both in!”

“Angus no-,”

“Yeah, come on! Let's go ask,” he tugs at your hand to get you through the corridor.

“No Angus. I don’t want to.”

“What, why?”

You run your hand through your hair, “I asked Mr. Hunham not to ring them.”

“Wait. So, you didn’t even try to leave!”

“No! I thought I was clear the night we talked about why I didn’t want to go back to that house. If they answer they’ll pull the victim card and be all ‘I can’t believe you guys kept my child from me! Who do I sue?’ before coming to fetch me and berating me all the way back.”

“Listen, I wasn’t going to say anything because I could tell you were upset but you could have at least let them know for both our sakes. Then we could have spent the holidays in a hotel in Boston or something! We didn’t have to stay with them.”

“I knew you were off that night!” You curse the way you’ve managed to read him. “Anyways, with what money? To do what?”

“I don’t-, I don’t know… we could have figured it out.”

“I can’t believe you're getting mad at my decision.”

“It’s a pretty selfish one,” his eyes widened like he couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth.

You gasp and hit him harshly at his side. “Ow!” he yelps.

“You’re being an asshole right now. I’ve never been madder at you in my entire life.”

“Really? What about that time I spilled mashed potatoes all over your dress? Your face was beet red,” he mocks.

You go to swat at him again only for him to dodge you. You try once more and fail, almost falling onto the floor but stopping yourself by putting your hand on the nearest wall. If you weren’t so angry this would have reminded you of the times you would wrestle when you were eight. Especially now and the way he holds you back by putting his hand on your forehead to keep you at arm's length. You give up with a huff and you b-line to your room.

“Tell Mr. Hunham I won't be at dinner tonight!”

You hear him groan behind the door you slammed shut and then the sound of his footsteps fading. In your solitude you collapse on the bed, letting out a scream into your pillow. Even though it's muffled, you hope Angus can feel it from where he is. That it reaches him and causes goosebumps to arise all over his stupidly long arms. …

You had skipped out on dinner like you said you would. Although Mr. Hunham had been polite enough to bring a plate down to the infirmary. As he handed it to you, he said lowly, “I’m not sure what that little deviant did, but I’m sure it's related to his foul mood and your absence tonight. Let me know if I can do anything.”

You almost wanted to cry at his politeness. Later he invited you to the kitchen common room and claimed there was a TV there. Considering you had only stared at words on a page for the last few days, you jumped at the offer. You saw Mary there and to your displeasure Angus had been forced to tag along so that Mr. Hunham could supervise him.

Your eyes were glued to the television, not letting Angus’s burning stare get the best of you. They were watching “The Newlywed Game” and drinking from mugs. It was not half-bad. In fact, it was starting to get pretty good to see these couples have their relationship crushed within a thirty-minute runtime with ad breaks in between.

The boy had begun throwing pieces of balled up paper at you and you picked them off your hair and tried your damnedest to not pay him any mind. You could hear him tear a new page from that magazine of his and finally you snapped at him. “Will you stop it? You’re wasting paper.”

“Thank God. You’re talking to me,” he stood straighter in his seat. “Here's the thing, I'm sorry. I should have never said that you were selfish. Cause you’re like, not. You’re honestly the most unselfish person I know.”

“I don’t want your apology right now. I’m watching TV.”

“I just got caught up in the moment is all. The truth is that-.”

“Angus, I said I don’t want to hear it!” You raised your voice loud enough to catch the attention of both Mr. Hunham and Mary.

“Everything alright back there?” Hunham takes the pipe out of his mouth to ask.

You get up, brushing invisible dust off your skirt. “Can I be excused. I’m pretty tired.”

“That’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” You pick up your discarded book from the nearby coffee table before leaning down and whispering in Angus' ear, “Don't follow me.”

As you stomp away you hear Mary say, “We need to get those two onto this program. Win us a trip to Bermuda.”

Mr. Hunham lets out a suppressed chuckle, embracing it soon after along with Mary. You roll your eyes at the pair and their drunkenness. You’re comforted by the fact that they’ll have a big headache tomorrow. …

You’re shaken at a frantic rate. You went to sleep early but were awoken now by a mischievous looking Angus. He dangles a set of keys right in front of your face.

“What are you doing?” You squint under the harsh glare of the flashlight.

“Inviting you on a night of adventure. Walleye is completely blacked out. He won’t even notice us gone.”

“No thank you,” you turn away from him and drape your blanket over your head. He tugs it back down.

“Come on. Please?”

“I’m still not in the mood. Plus, now I’m tired.”

“Y/n,” he whines.

“If you find a cookie in a pantry somewhere you know what to do,” you murmur, already being lulled back to sleep by the warmth you feel under the covers.

“Y/n,” he says more seriously, “I am sorry.”

“I know,” you sigh. Maybe you had been too harsh. You prop yourself up on your elbows, “It’ll be better tomorrow. We will talk then.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He embraces you tightly in a hug. As he parts away, you two are face to face. You’re able to notice his eyes gleam under the light of the moon. You wonder when his eyes got to be that dark of a brown. Those same eyes flicker to your lips. You stare at him wearily as he clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck. He walks backwards to leave, his back bumping into a nearby lamp. “Shit. Sorry. Uh, goodnight. Bye.”

You were probably disorientated. Sleep deprived most definitely. Or maybe that secondhand smoke finally got to you. Surely you were just seeing things. Because surely, your best friend hadn’t just looked at you the way songs and books always seemed to describe love.

a/n: Thanks again for reading! Just to clarify some things, obviously Y/n knows about Angus’s dad, but just like in the movie, he doesn’t let it show how much it affects him. That’s why Y/n is unaware of why Boston is such a big deal. Anyways bye :)) until next time. Let me know your thoughts.

[ordenyprogreso]

Marilyn Monroe waves as she and her husband, Arthur Miller, go for a drive. Roxbury, Connecticut, July 7, 1956.

[whencyclopedia]

Battle of Bunker Hill

The Battle of Bunker Hill (17 June 1775) was a major engagement in the initial phase of the American Revolutionary War (1775-1783), fought primarily on Breed's Hill in Charlestown, Massachusetts. The colonial troops successfully defended Breed's Hill against two British attacks, but ultimately retreated after a third assault. The battle was a British victory but cost them heavy casualties.

Prelude

By mid-June 1775, nearly two months had passed since the blood of colonial militiamen and British regular soldiers had been spilled on the Old Concord Road (modern-day Battle Road) connecting the Massachusetts towns of Lexington and Concord. The intervening weeks had seen nearly 15,000 militiamen from across New England lay siege to the town of Boston, which was occupied by around 6,000 British soldiers commanded by General Thomas Gage. With the presence of British warships in Boston Harbor, the British garrison could keep itself supplied from the sea, while a lack of gunpowder and a poorly defined command structure prevented the colonial troops from mounting an assault on the town. This resulted in a standoff as the opposing armies – one comprised of untrained provincial farmers, the other considered the most disciplined fighting force in the world – waited for the other to make the first move.

General Gage, by this point, was an unhappy man. A year earlier, he had been appointed military governor of the Province of Massachusetts Bay, entrusted with restoring royal authority in the wayward colony. But instead of reasserting British rule, Gage had allowed the colony to slip further from Parliament's grip and had consequently lost the confidence of King George III of Great Britain (r. 1760-1820). Even before news of the Battles of Lexington and Concord had reached London, the king's ministry had dispatched a triumvirate of handpicked generals to assist the frustrated Gage in his duties; generals John Burgoyne, Henry Clinton, and William Howe had set sail for America aboard the vessel Cerberus, arriving in Boston on 25 May 1775. The generals, all of whom had well-established reputations in England, were appalled to find that soldiers of His Majesty's army were being besieged by country peasants and urged Gage to break out of this humiliating situation.

Boston, at the time, was confined entirely on a peninsula and was connected to the mainland by an isthmus known as Boston Neck. The colonial soldiers controlled access to Boston Neck, thereby cutting the British off by land, and were concentrated in the nearby towns of Roxbury and Cambridge. The British plan, mainly composed by General Howe, was to launch a surprise attack on Boston Neck and seize the strategically significant position of Dorchester Heights. After fortifying the heights, the British would sweep the Americans out of Roxbury before occupying Charlestown, located on another peninsula to the north of Boston. The British would then fortify the three hills overlooking Charlestown, which included Bunker Hill, Breed's Hill, and Moulton's Hill, before making the final push that would drive the provincials out of Cambridge. Howe suggested that the attack should take place on Sunday 18 June; the New Englanders, known for their piety, would likely be attending religious services and would have their guards down.

The British plan was, of course, made in secret, and was finalized on 12 June. However, the secret did not even last 24 hours before Howe's plan was delivered to the Provincial Congress, the acting American government of Massachusetts; the informant was an anonymous New Hampshire "gentleman of undoubted veracity" who had "frequent opportunity of conversing with the principal officers in General Gage's army" (Philbrick, 380). With five days to go until the British attack, the Provincial Congress decided to act preemptively, and instructed General Artemas Ward, commander of the ragtag New England army, to construct additional fortifications. On 15 June, General Ward elected to send a detachment of soldiers under General Israel Putnam to occupy the Charlestown peninsula; specifically, Putnam was ordered to seize and fortify Bunker Hill, which, at 33 meters (110 ft), was the tallest of the three hills on the peninsula.

Continue reading...

[sibylsleaves]

with a bird at your door

3k | rated G | read on ao3

He’d rather spill the whole, pathetic truth than have Eddie think for one second that Buck doesn’t want him around.

“Buck, seriously,” Eddie says. “I know I’m being needy, okay? I know. And you don’t have to feel bad for me, you can tell me if it’s too much.”

“No, come on, it’s not too much, Eddie, it’s—it’s not enough.”

or, Eddie starts spending all his time with Buck. Which would be fine if it weren't for the fact that Buck is in love with him.

Buck would never, ever say this out loud, but the whole thing is kind of Christopher’s fault.

Apparently, eleven is the age when kids start wanting more independence and start finding their loving, devoted fathers to be “overbearing.” After a disastrous week where Chris went as far as to lie to Eddie about skipping science club to hang out with his friends instead, the two of them sit down and talk it out and they tentatively arrive at a solution. Eddie will try to give Christopher more space and more independence. And Chris promises to never lie to Eddie again.

Buck’s proud of both of them, even if it breaks his heart a little that Chris is growing out of wanting to go to the zoo every other weekend, and would rather spend Friday nights at the movies with his friends than playing video games on the couch with Buck and Eddie.

Chris is growing up and there’s really nothing for Buck and Eddie to do but get used to it.

There is, of course, another problem. With Chris spending more time out of the house, it leaves Eddie with a lot more free time. Free time that he invariable spends with Buck.

This, by itself, wouldn’t usually be a problem. Buck loves hanging out with Eddie. It’s one of his favorite ways to spend his time off, right after hanging out with Chris and Eddie. At any other time, Buck wouldn’t be bothered by Eddie dropping by unannounced or asking Buck to come over practically every night when they’re not on shift. In fact, normally, he’d be ecstatic.

It’s just that…right before the big blow up between Chris and Eddie, Buck realized something. In the midst of all his soul-searching and questioning The Point of It All, Buck came to the conclusion that he’s deeply, ridiculously, undeniably in love with his best friend. He’s been trying to hard to figure out what he wants, only to realize it’s been staring him in the face this whole time.

That realization would be a lot to deal with in any other circumstance. Right now, when Buck is spending practically every waking moment with Eddie, it’s completely overwhelming.

It’s just—he can’t get a break from it. When he’s at work, Eddie’s there, all focused and competent and catching Buck’s eye on particularly ridiculous calls with that knowing, twinkly look that makes Buck want to shove him up against the fire truck and kiss him. When they’re at home, and Eddie’s all loose and relaxed and sometimes silly the way he only gets with Chris and Buck, grinning over at Buck with that smile that makes Buck want to press him down onto the couch and kiss him.

Once, when Buck made the mistake of telling Eddie he had to babysit Jee-Yun and Eddie invited himself along, Buck almost did kiss him, right there in the middle of the tot playground at Roxbury Park. He stopped himself before he could really embarrass himself, and Eddie was so focused on Jee-Yun he didn’t seem to notice.

But the more time they spend together, the more sure Buck gets that he’s going to slip up and Eddie’s going to figure it all out. And then what?

Eddie would be kind about it. Of course he would. He’d let Buck down easy, tell him what a great friend he is, and then he’d very gently break Buck’s heart. And they’ll still be friends, they’ll still be Buck and Eddie, but it won’t be the same.

Eddie doesn’t need that right now. He’s already negotiating a change in his relationship with his son—he doesn’t need to deal with a change in his relationship with Buck on top of that.

Buck just—he needs a break. From Eddie. Just a short one, to get his feelings under control to keep them from spilling out of him.

Only, every time he tries to get out of another evening of pining away for a man sitting two feet away, Eddie hits him with the sad puppy eyes that Buck can’t ever, ever say no to. And Buck inevitably spends another evening basking in Eddie’s attention and trying desperately not to show said basking.

Eddie needs you right now, he tells himself. Just suck it up and be there for him.

(keep reading on ao3)

[alliluyevas]

Have you ever posted about what about Mormonism first caught your interest and why its stuck as such a major interest?

I've been asked this before, but not for a while, so I'll answer again.

I've always been pretty interested in religion and religious history, I think part of this comes from growing up with a few very different religious perspectives in my extended family. I was raised Episcopalian and so was my dad, but my mom was raised Catholic and my dad's older sister and her husband are born-again evangelical Baptists. I was very much a type of kid who paid attention to and noticed stuff like this, so when I went to Catholic mass with my grandparents I would pick up on both similarities to and differences from what I was used to at the church my immediate family went to, and have questions about that. And my mom talked with me when I was still pretty young (late elementary/preteen) about why she left Catholicism and issues she had with it, and I also remember talking with her about how my aunt and uncle are creationists and what that meant and creationism versus evolution versus intelligent design and how to avoid arguments about this when we visited them. So I definitely grew up navigating having very divergent religious experiences and perspectives in my family and how to engage with people respectfully about that, and I was always curious about how different groups worship and define themselves.

I had a couple different phases as a kid where I was very interested in researching religious topics, like I got very into Ivanhoe in fifth grade and read a lot about the crusades and medieval Catholicism for a few years, and then later in middle school I first became interested in religious extremism and cults and I used to watch 19 Kids And Counting and read a lot of Time magazine special editions about Heaven's Gate and similar topics. 

I didn't really know a ton about Mormonism until I was an adult because I didn't know a lot of LDS people and I don't remember learning anything about Mormonism in my US History classes in school. When my brother and I were in elementary school, one of his best friends was a boy whose family was LDS so I had been over to his house several times and played with his sister and stuff, but I don't remember him or his parents really talking about their religion at all and I don't think I asked any questions either of them or of my parents. (Though I do remember my mom explaining that his parents didn't drink because of their religion, and I also remember reading the titles on their living room bookshelf and seeing a lot of books about Brigham Young and assuming he was my brother's friend's dad's historical blorbo essentially because my dad had multiple biographies of Abraham Lincoln and I thought it was a similar circumstance.)

About three years ago when I was living in Boston I was reading a fair bit about the Nation of Islam because a) Louis Farrakhan grew up in Roxbury where I worked and there's a main street in Roxbury named after Malcolm X, and I remember thinking that it was ironic that Farrakhan was the local but the street was named after Malcolm X and wondering if that pisses him off b) the Nation of Islam is fascinating to me in general. So I watched this Hulu documentary about the Nation of Islam and then Hulu recommended me a documentary about FLDS and I watched that too. I felt like the documentary didn't really go into enough detail about the historical context for modern Mormon fundamentalism, so I checked out the book Under the Banner of Heaven from my local library, and then I wanted to know more about early Mormon history in general, so I checked out a few more books, and then I got hooked and started ordering some of the ones the library didn't have online.

I can't entirely explain why my interest in Mormonism has stuck around, because I do tend to be very fixated on special interests and sometimes that kind of feels a little arbitrary, especially when that sort of hyperfixation intersects with and becomes genuine investment in academic scholarship (which it doesn't always for me, but here it did). I am interested in women's history in general and always have been, so I initially really found polygamy fascinating, and wanted to learn more about the dynamics of polygamous households. Specifically, the fact that early Mormons created a very controversial social order that wildly diverged from the norms of their culture, did this essentially from scratch, and were able to maintain it for roughly 3-4 generations of polygamist families despite significant external pressure and initial internal opposition is really interesting to me. I also think Mormonism is a very American religion that has also sometimes been at odds with American mainstream culture despite that and that's a very fascinating dynamic to investigate. I think I've also often been interested in attempts to create a new, utopian community or culture and the ways in which these experiments often fall short, which has been a constant in a lot of my historical interests like the American Revolution, the Soviet Union, and Mormonism as well.

[go-bac]

Elizaveta's Week 6 Update

This week, we saw other groups working on their projects via Zoom. It was nice to see what they are working on. We saw how they were renovating the building and scraping the floors.

[mbta-unofficial]

I am getting flak for my opposition to the north-south rail link and want to clarify: The commuter rail isn’t set up to move you from point A to point B unless point B is Boston. This is because of the economy of scale. Given the practical reality, you should probably drive most short trips in MA unless you live in Boston because very few single town pairs have sufficient gravity to warrant a mass transit solution. This isn’t to say that more or better trains aren’t an overall good, but a system that is overbuilt is going to limit its own ability to effectively serve the public, and cars are, practically speaking, a more autonomous and therefore efficient mode of transport in zones of uniform low density.

When greater Boston has trains and buses that serve significantly more demand than they do now, a north south rail link could be a logical next step, but for right now the corridors that would represent the greatest increase in T Benefit are Everett, chelsea and SoWa/Roxbury/Dorchester and it’s not close.

The tool I have to measure this is a gravity model, which doesn’t give you an absolute number of trips but can give you a comparison between two city pairs.

Population (x) x population (y)/distance^2

Let’s look at some pairs:

Boston-Hingham

Boston population (in thousands): 675

Hingham population (in thousands): 24

Distance: 17 miles

Score: 56

Boston-Concord

Concord population (in thousands): 18

Distance: 18 miles

Score: 37.5

Concord-Hingham

Distance: 31 miles

Score: 0.44

These three pairs show that while only slightly fewer people are likely to travel to boston from concord than hingham, people are 100 times less likely to make a trip from hingham to concord than boston. These are fairly characteristic of commuter rail communities, and transit should reflect that. The commuter rail is organized to get people to boston for a reason. Now, compare that to boston-cambridge or boston-brookline.

Brookline population: 63,000.

Distance: 4 miles

Score: 2,657

Cambridge population: 118,000

Distance: 3 miles

Score: 8,836

These are well connected, peer urban areas with light or heavy rail in proportion to their weight. But now look at Everett:

Population: 49,000

Distance: 4 miles.

Score: 2,064

logically, It should have nearly as much transit as Brookline, which has two and a half legs of the green line. It doesn’t, although the T is fixing this with increased bus connectivity. SoWa/Roxbury/Dorchester is the hardest one to look at here because it’s actually part of boston, meaning I have to change some assumptions about distance and population. I have been up to this point using government center as my boston location, and I’ll pick franklin park as my location for dorchester. I’ll be subtracting the dorchester and roxbury populations from the boston population to get an estimate.

Dorchester pop: 100,000

Roxbury Pop: 60,000

Adjusted Boston Pop: 515,000

Distance: 4.8miles

Score: 3,576

Now, depending on location, these residents might be served by the red or orange lines, but the scores are much higher and there is still nothing like the connectivity of brookline or cambridge. This is a major result of boston’s historic redlining, which I’ve discussed before.

These communities, with scores in the thousands, are desperate for better transit. There are ten thousand trips made on that kind of connection for each trip made between Lowell and Foxborough, and until those communities, who are disproportionately minority, have access to good transit, I won’t worry about the rail link.

There’s a reason this is called a gravity model: it’s an inverse square law, which can be generalized with calculus to cover a whole two dimensional field. Someone who is better at math than me probably already has mapped MA in this way. But the force of gravity between any two communities outside of Worcester-Boston-Springfield-Providence is probably going to be weak, or at least much weaker than the gravity pulling those commuters towards Worcester-Boston-Springfield-Providence.

So with these numbers in mind, who is the rail link for? Which communities are driving the demand for large scale movement of people not to Boston, but past it? Why should the MBTA take on the entire downtown MPA and MASSDot and the Legislature and try to build through the very land government center is on to link north station to south? Why not instead build from Fields Corner to Back Bay and give transit access to one of the most populous transit deserts in the city? Or From Maverick To Malden by way of Chelsea and Everett? It’s just such a low priority for me, and I think it should be for you too.

[beardedmrbean]

Black gun owners are helping to shape the gun debate in Massachusetts, with Boston-area legislators expressing surprise and maybe a little frustration over the fact that many of their constituents are telling them to back down from their efforts to add more restrictions on the right to keep and bear arms. 

Bostonians, who have long faced tough hurdles to secure gun licenses compared to suburban peers, are pressing state lawmakers to ease those restrictions as new gun reform legislation advances on Beacon Hill this season. And, increasingly, the calls on behalf of expanding Second Amendment rights are coming from men and women of color who live in Dorchester and Mattapan. State Rep. Russell Holmes, who represents parts of both neighborhoods, says he is paying attention to their calls. “It’s a legal right they are asking for and I need to open my eyes to the fact that folks in my community feel their Second Amendment rights are being infringed upon,” said Holmes, who said he’s approached everywhere – even at church – about expanding gun rights. His colleague in the Fifth Suffolk district, Rep. Chris Worrell, said he’s been fielding similar calls from constituents in other parts of Dorchester and Roxbury that he represents. “Am I a gun person? No,” said Worrell. “I’m not a gun guy and don’t own a gun but there are a lot of people here in the neighborhood who want to exercise their Second Amendment rights and obtain a license and have not been able to.”

On today's Bearing Arms Cam & Co, newly-elected GOP committeewoman Dr. Elizabeth Hinds-Ferrick and Massachusetts firearms instructor Nolan Howard declared that it's getting harder for Democrats to ignore the pro-2A sentiment coming from a growing number of their constituents.

"Everyone's seeing what's going on around them. We've got immigrants coming in, and they're taking care of them instead of us, and a lot of people are feeling a little uneasy and thinking it's time to go get their license," Howard revealed, adding that he does see something of a generation split on the issue. 

"A lot of the older generation doesn't like it, including in my family, but I forced my sister to make my class. I told her 'hey, just get the license. You don't even need to get a gun right now, just get a license. God forbid something happens, you won't have to wait. You can just go to an FFL, wait for the background check, and there you go." 

Dr. Hinds-Ferrick is among the growing number of Bostonians who are applying for her LTC, which is required to both possess a gun in the home and carry in public. 

"My oldest son signed up the whole family," she shared. "We all went to the course on a Sunday. It's time for all of us to be responsible gun owners and get our license so we can protect ourselves and exercise our Second Amendment rights." 

 Hinds-Ferrick is hoping to use the Second Amendment as a means of Republican outreach to people of color, but both she and Nolan said they'd be thrilled to see Democrats embrace the right to keep and bear arms. They just don't see it happening anytime soon. 

"If you look at what's happening in Congress and around the country," Hinds-Ferrick said, "they're blaming the gun and not the person that is using the gun. The gun is an inanimate object, but they're trying to change the law to away our Second Amendment rights." 

Meanwhile, Hinds-Ferrick, Howard, and other Second Amendment supporters are trying to change the political environment in Massachusetts, and thanks to their efforts, Democrats are starting to feel the heat from their constituents. 

For lawmakers like Holmes, the incoming calls are ones he cannot ignore. “It’s an unusual request for me,” Holmes admits. “I’m saying, ‘When did this happen in the Black community because I have gun violence all up and down Blue Hill Avenue in my district.’ But these are friends and regular, real people, not crazy gun enthusiasts but real people that I know who say this is something they want to do…I’m not happy about it but I have to open my eyes to it.”

It remains to be seen if Holmes and other Democratic lawmakers will actually listen to what their constituents are saying. A conference committee is still working behind closed doors to craft a compromise gun control bill, and we have no idea when they'll have a draft that will be released to the public or what the bill will look like when it finally emerges from the committee room. 

Be sure to check out the entire conversation with Dr. Elizabeth Hinds-Ferrick and Nolan Howard in the video window below. I'm thrilled they could both join the show today, and I'm encouraged by their activism and outreach in one of the most hostile environments for our Second Amendment rights. Massachusetts has a long way to go before it's even close to truly recognizing the fundamental importance of our right to keep and bear arms, but Howard and Hinds-Ferrick are helping to move the needle in the right direction. 

[thisisasundrysideblog]

i'm going to tell my kids this was night at the roxbury

[whatevergreen]

A 2008 (pre-election) Huff Post interview with Jewish-American author Adam Mansbach includes this:

Prof. David Browmich argues that Israel has outgrown its cultural history of victimization to become the chief oppressor of the Middle East, including a nuclear terror that might invade Iran. Do you feel this fear of a literal end to the Jews raise its head in macro or micro form in your novel?

"There's hardly a word about Israel in this novel, although certainly the past specter of an end to the Jews, and the seemingly-perpetual fear of a future one, give the title its bite, make people frown or laugh or shoot me a quizzical look when I tell them what my new book's called. Personally, my Jewish upbringing, such as it was, did not include Hebrew school, which from what I can gather is where a lot of kids first get indoctrinated with the idea that as a Jew you're supposed to love and defend (with words, if not actions) the state of Israel. My family was very secular; my parents sent me to the So You Think You Might Be Jewish Sunday School and Grill out of guilt, and I got kicked out of it for singing "Livin' On A Prayer" by Bon Jovi into a mic at an all-school assembly when I was supposed to read a prayer. This was my way of acting out my anger toward my racist Jewish History teacher, who liked to tell us kids stories about the Great Jewish Exodus. You know, the one from Roxbury in the 1950s, when the blacks moved in.

When the word got out that I was publishing this book, I started getting invited to Jewish conferences, retreats, etc - which was weird, since this is third novel and nobody had ever considered me a Jewish writer before, except for the white supremacists who tried to get all my speaking gigs for Angry Black White Boy canceled, and accused me of "masquerading as white." From what I've been able to discern in the past year or two, going to all these events, the dominant concern among the Jewish generation in power seems to be that young people aren't participating enough in Jewish life, and through apathy, intermarriage, nonobservance, the Jews are going to wither and disappear. It creeps me out to be in a room full of Jews in which racial purity seems to be an agreed-upon goal, though I certainly understand where it comes from.

What bothers me most, though, is the mix of naivete and cynicism with which the young demographic is being courted; the underlying goal seems to be Jewish marriage/procreation/participation, but it's couched in all these other terms, disguised inside all these clumsy maneuvers. It's like, "What do young Jews like these days? Pancakes? Okay, we'll have a pancake breakfast, and hopefully Isaac's hand will brush against Rachel's while they're both reaching for the maple syrup, and we'll get some babies out of this."

Where do you stand on the idea of Israel as a religious homeland for Jews, as well as its geopolitical realities, which are more bloody and less romantic?

"I don't claim to be an expert. I haven't been there. But the notion that a Jewish life is worth more than a Palestinian one seems to underwrite so much of what's happening, and so much of the conversation about Israel in America's Jewish community, and that is deeply troubling. The things I read and hear from friends who have traveled in Israel and Palestine leave me with no doubt that an apartheid-like situation is in effect, and that is unacceptable.

I think there's a lot of willing suspension of disbelief on the part of American Jews about the actions of the Israeli military. People don't want to accept that they would do the things they do, so they decide they don't do them, or that they must have their reasons and delving into them isn't necessary -- and this is among the same people who would never dream of giving a pass to Bush, people outraged about Darfur and Gitmo and every other outrageous thing happening on the world stage. To me, one of the strengths of Jewish culture is the fact that everything is constantly scrutinized and discussed and argued over. Questioning and dialogue and vigorous study are the things I connect with: the notion of a Talmud that literally has no margins because every possible inch of space was covered in a multi-century discussion of life and law. So Jewish group-think frightens me; Jewish dogma without counter-dogma frightens me. I think that the Jews should have a homeland, yes -- but I also think it's fascinating that some scholars and rabbis believe that homeland is intended to be a state of mind, that some believe the greatest sin possible is to claim that homeland by force, and that several different homelands for the Jews have been proposed in this century alone. The "if you don't love Israel you're not a good Jew" mentality really bothers me. As does, I suppose, the notion of a "good Jew."

You're steeped in black culture but Jewish. How has the relationship changed over time in your mind, and what do you think having a black president during a time of Israel's geopolitical ascendancy will do to it?

"Perhaps no two ethnic groups in America share so unique, intimate, and checkered a past, politically and artistically, as blacks and Jews. I thought it was interesting that Obama touched on the fraying of relations between the two communities in his big speech on race, but I also thought his decision to essentially elaborate on his rejection of Minister Farrakan because of Farrakhan's alleged anti-Semitism was more in line with the reasons black-Jewish relations have suffered than with any attempt to mount new dialogue. It was red meat for Jewish voters. On the Jewish side, the problem with black-Jewish relations is that a handful of ill-advised and highly objectionable statements made by a few prominent black leaders in the mid-eighties have never been forgotten. And they should be. Yes, Jesse Jackson once referred to New York City as 'Hymietown." Yes, Al Sharpton could have conducted himself better during the Crown Heights riots. But these incidents happened twenty years ago.

Not only have Sharpton, Jackson, and even Farrakhan (whose outreach to the Jewish community over the last ten years has been considerable, if seldom-reported) moved on, but so has black leadership. Obama's candidacy and the emergence of hip hop generation leaders and grassroots political organizations prove that the civil rights generation is no longer in the driver's seat. Yet, these figures remain central in the collective Jewish memory - fixed in history, reduced to their offensive comments, and treated as proof of black anti-Semitism. Why? Because it provides an excuse for Jewish disengagement -- emotionally, practically, financially -- from the continuing struggle for equality. It allows Jews to disinvest in the black community and the legacy of progressive work that blacks and Jews once shared.

One of the most fascinating stories of the 20th century, and one that I try to tell in The End of the Jews, is how both Jewish assimilation and Jewish self-identity have relied on the immutability of black Otherness. As the Jews have become whiter and richer, we've also gained the ability to engage in the same kind of complacency and hypocrisy that has long characterized the rest of white liberal America. Jews can now lament racial injustice without either fighting or acknowledging the ways in which it benefits us. The post-World War II Jewish credo has been to 'never forget,' and maintain eternal vigilance against the smallest rustling of anti-Semitism. I understand that. But I also lament that fact that whenever something does happen, regardless of whether the offensive speech or action stems from true malice or ignorance, whether it is repented for or not, the gates come crashing down, and dialogue is considered anathema. I think it's time to really rethink this, especially given the tremendous attacks that civil rights and civil liberties have taken under this president (Bush)."

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Source: https://www.huffpost.com/entry/is-this-the-end-of-the-je_b_119055

(All the interesting sections are above regarding Israel, Zionism, Palestine, and race. I wouldn't bother with the full article unless you have an ad blocker, as advertising actually obscures parts of the text. Of the above sections.)

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

Economic Exploitation "Most prisoners I interviewed believe that the California prison system operates as a big business and the profit motive guides important decisions.

It’s all just business. I’ve watched it. Whenever there are a few empty beds around here, you wait. You'll see a bunch of guys getting violated. They got to keep the place full. They get paid by the convict. You watch it. They fill the place up by bringing guys back in, then they go to legislature and get more money to build anew prison.

Though the prisoners’ view of how the system works is somewhat distorted, it is based in reality. Prison systems are big businesses, and many groups, such as guards’ unions, architects, construction companies, prison hardware manufacturers, and prison professionals, have an economic interest in expanding prison populations. Prisoners understand this and have developed a profoundly cynical view of the operation, which they see as corrupt and unjustly exploitative and oppressive.

There are some profit-making practices in the prison operation that directly affect prisoners and are seen as particularly corrupt and exploitative of them and their families. The most blatant of these is the telephone policy. In California prisons, pay telephones are located in all housing units and are readily available to prisoners. Prisoners may only make collect calls from these phones, which are installed and maintained by a private company, which charges an extra fee of $7 per call. This fee is paid by the person (usually a family member) receiving the call. This fee is split by the private company and the CDC. The CDC’s share goes into the state’s general fund. In the year 2000, California earned $36 million from this source. Prisoners feel that this is gross exploitation of them, their friends, and their families, who are usually poorer people and less able to pay this fee. Several prisoners told me that they believe that the CDC unscrupulously delays their mail to encourage phone use. At present, a letter may take as long 21 days to be delivered to a prisoner. Moreover, prisoners must pay an added 10 percent fee for every item they purchase through the canteen or any other source. This fee goes into the Inmate Welfare Fund along with any other money prisoners possess. This fund totaled $10.1 million in 1998, at which time some California prisoners sued the state to receive the interest from this money. The state informed the courts that the money held in the Inmate Welfare Fund had not been deposited in interest-earning accounts. Litigation continues on this issue, and prisoners in other states have filed similar suits. Regardless of the outcome of these cases, California prisoners feel the state has cheated them or has earned money on their money. As California prisoners’ attorney Herman Franck views it, the state is stealing from the prisoners, and though each convict is losing only a few dollars, when you consider the vast number of prisoners, “150,000 small thefts becomes one big, fat theft.”? In addition to aggravating prisoners’ sense of injustice, these practices corrode the administrators’ claims of moral superiority and reduce prisoners’ sense of moral inferiority and responsibility."

- John Irwin, The Warehouse Prison: Disposal of the New Dangerous Class. Afterword by Barbara Owen. Los Angeles: Roxbury Publishing Company, 2005. p. 164-165