#int -> roland.

[nahimarchive]

out of all the faces to properly acquaint himself with, there was one in particular that nahim placed significant importance on. he’d crossed paths with roland long ago, dragged by marcellino to some pointlessly extravagant soirée he’d had no desire to attend. frustratingly, it had been a mandatory requirement for his reintegration into society and he'd weathered it to the best of his ability at the time. with all the years that had come to pass since then, nahim could now recognise that his socialisation skills hadn’t been at their sharpest, but the way alix’s darling had spoken to him had irked him beyond belief and a grudge had formed in its wake. they’d even managed to move past it whilst in conversation, but such a fact did little to change nahim’s feelings on the matter. now that they would be expected to exist alongside each other in a much closer capacity, nahim saw no reason not to get the pleasantries out of the way before something of a more professional nature drew them together instead.

having dedicated far too much time to learning the castle’s layout in the weeks that had followed his arrival, wandering to roland’s suite from rhys' office felt as natural as wandering the palazzo back home. he knocked softly against the doors so as not to startle belgium’s councilman in any way – on the off-chance he’d be interrupting something, he’d rather approach delicately. despite the need to uphold some civility, it was far too tempting to let himself in but given how poorly roland had taken nahim’s interruption the last time they'd spoken, the last thing he wanted was a repeat of such a displeasing series of events. “roland? are you available for ten minutes?”

@councillor-roland

[rhysdasiorarchive]

Even if this had originated as a selfish need to distract himself however possible from the hellish experiences of the trial, Rhys had felt his perception of the evening and even of Roland shift considerably from the early stages of their first real conversation. He’d spent far too many months appreciating him from a distance, avoiding his gaze when giving reports to the council on the department’s findings and trying to pretend he was nowhere near as intrigued as he was when it came to Roland as an individual. He’d been something of an enigma to the witch, mainly because Rhys had never been brave enough to bite the bullet and initiate any kind of exchange prior to this evening. Now that he had, he struggled to imagine even trying to avoid him now. There was something so inherently magnetising about him that Rhys knew this couldn’t possibly be the last time he’d find himself in Roland’s suite again. It didn’t mean anything, of course. This was simply how things were in Krovs. He’d simply succumb to the general way of life within the castle after so many years of trying to fight against it. However, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t grateful for the experience, at least. Fortunately, Roland accepted his unwarranted thanks with grace and the affection that preceded it only served to deepen Rhys’ hopefully momentary infatuation. The invitation to stay was certainly… unexpected. He’d fully expected idle chatter before the inevitable dismissal came, yet… it didn’t and that was the most surprising part of the entire evening. “You sure about that? I don’t want to take up any more of your time… but if you’re happy to have me here, I’m happy to stay. At least for a little longer.” It was best to placate councilmen whenever requests were made and though it was a cynical thought process, it was practically embedded into both Rhys’ psyche and his job description, so he saw no reason to challenge it. If that was what Roland wanted, so be it. There were certainly worse ways to spend an evening.

Clearly there was no real harm done since Rhys shook off the apology and Roland was glad of that. He'd have hated to spoil the evening by hurting him but luckily that had been avoided. Overall, it had been a wonderful evening and Roland intended for them to have many more like it. Rhys was not what Roland had always assumed and he was more interested than ever to get to know him better, to see what else lay under that professional mask that he'd successfully lifted away. Since his hand was on Rhys' heart he could feel how hard it was still beating and smiled at that. That smile only widened at the gratitude and he chuckled a little, dropping a couple of light kisses on Rhys' shoulder. "They're not, but you're quite welcome. It was my genuine pleasure." His blue eyes sparkled as he teased just a little. Roland was a little surprised by how much he just wanted to linger here, to look at Rhys and maybe talk a little. He was normally affectionate afterwards but this pull seemed stronger somehow. "You're welcome to stay." He said, after a moment, lightly stroking his thumb over Rhys' chest.

[blcssom]

open to: f/nb inspo: he's an agent who's known for signing young starlets and sleeping with them..... but also giving them their big break so !! take that as you will xox could be someone trying to sign with him, someone who's already working with him and not getting the attention they think they deserve, a director, a rival agent — go wild !

"you know, i really hate these things—" he'd uttered a lot of lies since moving to los angeles, but that one might have been the biggest. frankly, roland ashmore loved the indulgent industry parties his job required him to attend and, more importantly, loved the company they allowed him to keep.... such as his current conquest for the evening. "they never serve anything strong enough to make it feel like a real party, do they?

[berrymegently]

the June sports drought is not for the weak im a thread away from kms

[acupofbritishearlgrey]

Record Mirror (19.01.1985): Curt recalls that the first time he met his partner he thought he was over on a French exchange trip "because he looked foreign". "And the fact I said 'bonjour'," adds Roland deadpanly. "We kind of got on right away though, because we're, like, the same height."

'Scenes from the Big Chair' (1985), dir. Nigel Dick:

Breakfast with the Arts (2004):

bonus.

interview 1985: <...> “but I had a friend who was a bass player in this kid’s group. One day he told me a friend of his had been fighting with an Indian guy. I got confused, I thought the friend was the Indian guy. I wanted to meet him. It turned out to be Curt, who thought I was French, for some reason. But I really liked him.” Rockonteurs podcast, se1ep22 (31.01.2021): <...> we walked up a couple of flights, we knocked on the door, and I saw Curt for the first time in my life. And he wasn't allowed out because he'd been in a fight and he'd knocked someone down the stairs. So it was like, that was my initial meeting. I thought, well, this is obviously a guy I need to steer clear of. I was like, you know, I was very conscientious, good at school, A-student. And here was, you know, a wuffian [ruffian]! So, you know, that's how we met. Rockonteurs podcast, se2ep1, (09.01.2022): — Guy, do you remember how Roland said when he first met Curt, he was scared of him? — Yes! CS: As you should be! — Yeah, because I'm wondering what your, how your sort of family background was like, because the house he grew up in sounded extraordinary. — Yeah, and he said that you came to the door, he was introduced to you by a friend, and you came to the door, you'd been grounded for beating someone up, and he was scared of you. CS: Yeah, for throwing someone down a flight of stairs, actually. — We laugh now. CS: I wasn't a very nice child. But having said that... — Did he have it coming? CS: He did. He definitely did. But I think it was... I mean, I grew up on a council estate, you know, albeit in Bath, so hardly, you know, the worst council estate in England. But you end up getting in fights to stop people picking on you. You know, that was a part of growing up on a council estate, I think. So yeah, my thoughts of Roland, I don't really know. I mean, he seemed, after we met that one time and then I found out about his family background and everything else, it seemed, you know, very kind of, yeah, the antithesis of my family, I guess. — So what was yours? CS: Well, mine was completely 100% working class. You know, my father was a waiter. My mother worked in boots. — That was a lyric right there. It sounded like a Chris Diffen. CS: And, and, you know, his mother was, um, you know, I mean, they lived on a council estate as well when he was growing up. — But they were theatricals. CS: She was theatrical. He, I mean, he was a weird French philosopher, you know, I mean, he was batshit crazy, but, uh, but in a, in a, to me in a fascinating way. You know, it was all very different to my upbringing. I mean, his parents were kind of nuts, as mine were, but in a very different way. You know, his mother was highly intelligent and his father was this kind of wacky French philosopher. — There was a kindred spirit there, was there? Somehow that you saw in each other? CS: Yeah. Song Exploader podcast, Ep. 292: Tears for Fears "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" (07.05.2025): CS: Well, we first met at the door of my apartment flat in Bath. RO: Snow Hill, yeah. CS: In Snow Hill, which is a council estate. So I guess in America, you call them the projects. And I was grounded for getting in a fight. Int.: How old were you? CS: 14, maybe? RO: 14. CS: 14, I think. Roland came with a mutual friend. He was at a different school than I was in Bath. RO: When I met Curt, I thought, well, as he said, he was grounded. And I thought, who the hell is this hooligan? You know, so I was a little bit wary of him, while at the same time kind of fascinated. Same as now, really.

[rhysdasiorarchive]

Roland’s tone was enough of an indicator that this subject was anything but sweet and Rhys made a conscious effort to reel his commentary on the matter in. At the very least, Roland knew it was an option. If the possibility became more attractive to him in time, he knew where to find Rhys to explore things a little further. He smiled wider at the reference to Corinne, inclining his head as he chuckled lowly to himself at the most recent memory of her and the hours that had passed by like seconds as the two conversed from alternate planes of existence. Rhys nodded affirmatively as Roland spoke again. “Of course, Ro. As I said, there’s no pressure. The choice is yours to make. If that time comes, you know where I am. I’ll never need a big heads up or anything– never takes too long to set up. If the mood strikes, let me know and we’ll work something out. If it doesn’t, that’s fine too. Whatever works for you works for me with this kind of thing.”

With the physical overtaking the conversational in terms of rampant need, Rhys was more than happy to push less pleasant thoughts to the back of his mind to focus on how right it felt to have the other half of his heart back by his side again. Whenever they were apart, no matter how long for, it always felt as if a part of Rhys was missing until he had Roland back by his side again. The wry comment pulled a laugh from the witch instantly, the tender kisses against his neck that followed lowering Rhys’ defences enough that the blurred arrival at the bedroom felt more like a conceptual occurrence than any kind of reality. Blinking a couple of times to familiarise himself with the change in scenery, Rhys groaned encouragingly into the kiss, Roland’s hands against his hoodie stilling the experience until Rhys forced himself to properly focus as the kiss was broken, his brow lightly furrowed as his gaze flickered between his hoodie and Roland until his mind finally put two and two together, Roland’s explanation pulling another chuckle from him. “Listen–” there was no time to defend his laziness as the hoodie was tugged off and Rhys shook his head to fix some of the disheleved aspects to his usually pristine form that lingered from the graceless undressing. “In my defence, I was only planning to spend a few hours with Mateo and then call it a night. You don’t get to make any smart-ass comments about the slovenly approach.”

Rhys seemed so sure and it was clear from his certainty that being able to communicate with Corinne beyond the veil, as it were, had most definitely been comforting for him. Just having their voice...it had been so very long since Roland had heard Alix's voice outside of his memories. The timbre of it, the precise way he chose his words, just as selective with those as he had been with his movements. The longing for it was so sharp it felt like it was cutting him from the inside out and yet it still felt like it wouldn't be enough. His smile was ghostly as he tried to stay tied to the conversation and Rhys' information about Corinne. "Good to know she's still speaking her mind even from beyond the grave." She'd certainly been headstrong. Rhys seemed willing to accept whatever choice he made regarding contacting Alix but he would definitely need some time before he made a decision. "Merci. It's...a very generous offer. I'll let you know." That was all he could bear to say about it for now.

It was much better to focus on how good it felt to kiss Rhys, to have him so eagerly return the gesture, to be able to touch him again. While he was normally the one who liked to drag things out and tease he felt amazingly impatient and only needed Rhys' final permission to move them to the bedroom. Apparently, according to Rhys, that permission had already been granted. "Forgive me for seeking enthusiastic consent." The comment was a little wry even if he followed it with more kisses to Rhys' neck. In a blink they were in the bedroom and on the bed, Rhys lightly pinned beneath him as he kissed him again, rocking his hips down against him with a slight sound. He moved his hands down and was met with the soft fabric of the hoodie rather than the stiff dress shirt he was more familiar with. Roland pulled back from the kiss with a light laugh. "I'm so used to having to undo your buttons it's a surprise not to find them there. Are you wearing anything underneath this?" The question was decidedly mischievous, lightly teasing, and he pulled back just enough to hook the bottom of the hoodie and lift it over Rhys' head to find out. Impatient as he was, Roland still enjoyed the anticipation that came with undressing Rhys and being undressed, it seemed too important a part to skip over entirely.

[classiqals]

{thomas doherty, 27, cismale, he/him} we are so glad to see you safe, KING ROLAND STUART of SCOTLAND! it’s dangerous out in the world these days, but i hear that you are RECKLESS and LOYAL TO A FAULT enough to handle it. just don’t let your DEMANDING NATURE bring you down! stay on your guard, because with your secret being at risk for exposure, you wouldn’t want everyone to find out YOU THINK YOU ARE BEING HAUNTED BY A GHOST AND IT'S GIVEN YOU INSOMNIA.

BASICS;

nicknames: ro

sexuality:  bisexual

relationship: devoutly single

date of birth:  july 22nd

zodiac sign:  cancer/leo cusp baby

moral alignment: chaotic good (?)

hobbies: gardening, writing, hiking, camping under the stars, horse riding, fishing, swimming, anything to do with the outdoors, archery, storytelling, folklore.

dislikes: ghosts, witchcraft, conflict, excessive rain, broken promises.

politics/loyalty: he was not raised to think as a leader, for a nation... so instead, his loyalty, politics, and decisions are most guided by his heart. he is loyal to his loved ones above all else.

inspirations: tba

DETAILS;

as a child, roland clung to his mother's leg and listened to her tales of dark fantasy with wide, dreaming eyes - taking to the moors before lessons, and never able to sit through a full reading. he would take to his journals, inspired by the folklore of the highlands, creating new tales from his own mind, and dabbling in a world of gruesome fantasy.

he was able to get away with such whimsy for a spell; the youngest of four, when was he to ever lead a kingdom? it was not by his parent's urging, but that of his peers, to finally grow up into a young man rather than a boy with his head in the clouds.

so he did; he grew, becoming a fine rider, a fine hunter, a fine dancer. a son that the stuart's were proud of, even if his habit of journaling fantastical thoughts && stories never quite left him. stolen afternoons up a tree could be kept secret, scribbling away in a world far from his own.

there was much to be said for the childhood he lived; he was not unlike his siblings in any way, each one as full of life as he, and he aspired to be like each one of them in different ways. always he felt close to their mother, her beautiful mind, and would trust anything she told him.

even if it involved the mythical. maybe she believed her stories more than she let on - she taught roland of special herbs, of ways to prepare them, secrets for curing illnesses and heartache. she taught him songs to recite when he was afraid, shapes to draw in the dirt for protection. he never told a soul. it was their secret, something for the two of them to have alone.

but now - she is gone, and he is king. it was never meant to go this way; he was never meant to find a seat of power, and he was not trained for this. his mother taught him love, and love oh, how it was a fearful concept now. love could tear apart everything his parents had built; it could be their downfall, but he cannot help it. if the siblings choose to make a vow against love, then he would honor it, for them.

for their safety, roland would do anything. he did not ask for this life, nor did he want it; but he rose to claim it. a promise was made to his mother, and he intends to keep it.... keep them together, roland, no matter what. in this world, all you have is your family. if they work together, everything will be fine. but can they work together?

since his mother's passing, with the sudden pressure of the duties of a king, roland has taken to sleepless nights and sleeping potions when desperate. dreams haunt him; he sees shadows in the corners of rooms; it feels he is watched from afar. his mother taught him to believe in spirits; and now, roland fears they dabbled too deeply in the mythical. perhaps he was being haunted - or hunted - by something int he beyond? perhaps the promises he gave when their hands were in the soil, meant more than he knew.

[rhysdasiorarchive]

closed starter for @councillor-roland

This wasn’t an event Rhys was thrilled to have to attend. If his presence wasn’t a mandatory requirement for the sake of maintaining the magical barrier and keeping a watchful eye over the collars until the time came to activate the negation of the abilities on display, it was safe to say that Rhys would rather happily be anywhere other than here. He’d never seen the appeal of violence for the sake of violence and this tournament was a prime example of all he despised. The only small plus side to any of it was that some of the participants – namely the slaves – were given a chance to let off a little steam and flourish with their abilities restored. Other than that, Rhys saw little need for celebration or even the slightest investment of interest. 

Rhys paid little attention to the fights themselves, only occasionally checking in to ensure everything was as it should be in terms of maintaining the required level of security and safeguarding. Letting his gaze flicker curiously around the crowd, it didn’t take long for him to spot Roland revelling in every second of the brutality on display. Of course he’d be enjoying it; that hardly came as a surprise. As expected, he’d also gone above and beyond in terms of the wardrobe choice and Rhys stifled a laugh to himself. Not one of mocking but sheer adoration. He looked stunning, to put it simply, not that Rhys had expected any less. From the looks of it, the entire council had decided to doll themselves up for the tournament. Sparing a final glance towards the ring to check that all was as it should be in such circumstances, Rhys shrugged off the last of his apprehension and teleported up to Roland’s booth to settle beside him with an indignant huff. “At least one of us seems to be getting into the spirit of things. Do I even want to know how much money you’ve sunk into your bets?”

[rhysdasiorarchive]

“All right, all right,” Rhys smiled in defeat, a stifled laugh shaking his shoulders a moment later. “I promise I’ll shut up about it for the rest of the evening. If I mention it again, feel free to kick me under the table. Won’t hold it against you.” It was a significant effort to push the thought of Seth’s looming death to the back of his mind. It felt insulting to do so, but the sight of the younger witch’s smile helped to subdue the first hint of guilt that arose as a consequence. For the evening, at least, they had the chance to enjoy a little normality again and it was just as well; there was a lot of lost time to make up for. 

END.

"Sorry, sorry, when," Seth laughed. Truthfully he didn't want to get his hopes up and much preferred staying realistic. He was literally going to hell and even with Rhys and Cairo's powers combined, how feasible was it to pull him back out? Did shit change because he made a contract with a demon? Did Lilith's death before his own affect anything? He supposed they'd all find out one way or another. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind as the two of them walked and smiled over at his mentor. "How 'bout we figure that all out if –– when –– we get there? Let's just enjoy the evening together." A little normalcy wouldn't hurt anyone tonight.

[blcssom]

closed for @thursdaygrl ft. roland ashmore

"darling.... i was up all night thinking of a kinder way to phrase this, but i'm sorry to say i came up short so i'll just tell you outright: i'm not sure you have what it takes."

[konradolssonjournal]

Söndag 28 april 2024

Jag har suttit här med först 20 sidor ur Roland Allens The Notebook - A history of thinking on paper, en bok jag först upptäckte på Daunt Books i London, men som sedan beställdes från Amazon. Tyckte först att prosan var irriterande och lite otydlig, men innehållet är guld. Det hela börjar med en case study i hur Moleskine föddes 1997 – långt senare än jag trodde – och sedan blev en av vår tids största kommersiella succéer, helt parallellt med den digitala utveckingen, no less. Tänkte först, jävlar vilken kommersiell inledning på boken, men sedan: denna författare kan sin målgrupp! Han verkar vara min ålder, berättar om en anekdot om Bruce Chatwins anteckningsböcker som inspirerade Moleskine, med ett underbart utdrag ur Chatwins faktiska anteckningsbok. I beskrivningen av Moleskine blir man sinnessjukt inspirerad, och vill genast sätta igång att anteckna igen, köpa fler anteckningsböcker, det finns något beroendeframkallande i det. Författaren försökte själv sälja in ett konkurrerande märke till Moleskine till Barnes & Nobles, men fick till svar: vi har redan försökt, vi tillverkar en liknande produkt med samma kvalitet, men Moleskine säljer ändå mer, vissa kunder kommer in varje vecka och köper en ny bok, kompulsivt, vi vet inte vad de använder dem till. Jag vet: de förvarar dem i skåp i hemmet! Kul att japanska Midori refereras till som en mer ”aquaried taste” hos kunder som vill ha något mer speciellt än Moleskin – mitt nuvarande favoritmärke.

Boken börjar sedan om från början, och berättar om den första anteckningsboksliknande artefakten, The Ulu Burun discovery, två waxtabletter som ihopsatta med en bindning i mitten, två ark som kunde skrivas på och sedan raderas, som en ålderdomlig etch a-sketch. Denna tablet kan numera beskådas på ett museum i Bodrum, Turkiet.

Jag ser verkligen fram emot att läsa den här boken. 

Jag plockar upp Mastery, som har nära 50 sidor obearbetade sidor som jag lyssnat på i veckan, men inte gått igenom i boken och strukit under. Hittar ett skönt sätt att läsa på genom att placera en kudde i knät, ihopfälld iPad som ett slags arbetsyta, och boken stadigt uppfälld så det är lätt att göra understrykningar.

Churchill brukade jobba i sängen, man förstår varför, det är ett slags upplösande att den fysiska kroppen att ligga horisontellt.

Det var viktiga sidor där i början av kapitlet som handlar om den kreativa fasen. Jag har redan reflekterat över det, och det inspirerade en av veckans REELs.

Här är utdrag:

Masters inevitably possess another quality that complicates the work process: They are not easily satisfied by what they are doing. While able to feel excitement, they also feel doubt about the worthiness of their work. They have high internal standards.

At certain points in this process, lesser types would simply give up or settle for what they have-a mediocre and half-realized project. But Masters are stronger.

At a particular high point of tension, they let go for a moment. This could be as simple as stopping work and going to sleep; or it could mean deciding to take a break, or to temporarily work on something else. What almost inevitably happens in such moments is that the solution, the perfect idea for completing the work comes to them.

If we remained as excited as we were in the beginning of our project, maintaining that intuitive feel that sparked it all, we would never be able to take the necessary distance to look at our work objectively and improve upon it.

When we let go, we are not aware that below the surface of consciousness the ideas and the associations we had built up continue to bubble and incubate.

Think of yourself as your own Zen Master. Such Masters would often beat their pupils and deliberately lead them to points of maximum doubt and inner tension, knowing such moments often precede enlightenment.

Thomas Edison understood how much better he worked under pressure. He would deliberately talk to the press about an idea before it was ready.

--

Detta fäster så bra. Det relaterar till konceptet negative capacity, att kunna genomlida the messy middle, att stå ut med att ens idéer tappar i lyskraft, att momentum stallar, att tvivlen sjunker upp till ytan. Att se på denna fas som nödvändig, att se på tvivlen som bränsle till att förbättra grejen, det är en avgörande insikt. The only way out is through.

Kan inte släppa tankarna på Quantum Jesus, och känner att jag måste lära mig mer. Keiths teori tappar i omfång då han leder den mot Jesus ord, vilket är intressant, men knappast hjälper mig mer i min nyfikenhet. Idén om alltings medvetande är så stark att jag måste lära mig mer.

Hittar en artikel i Scientific American som handlar om panpsychism. Rubrik: Is consciousness part of the Fabric of the Universe? Den beskriver hur forskare kämpar med frågan om hur medvetandet aldrig riktigt kan förklaras med fysikens språk. Galileo kunde bevisa hur materia funkade genom matematikens lagar och språk.

Such things as colors, tastes and smells “are no more than mere names,” Galileo declared, for “they reside only in consciousness.” These qualities aren’t really out there in the world, he asserted, but exist only in the minds of creatures that perceive them. “Hence if the living creature were removed,” he wrote, “all these qualities would be wiped away and annihilated.”

Panpsychism proposes that consciousness is a fundamental aspect of reality, like mass or electrical charge. The idea goes back to antiquity—Plato took it seriously—and has had some prominent supporters over the years, including psychologist William James and philosopher and mathematician Bertrand Russell. Lately it is seeing renewed interest, especially following the 2019 publication of philosopher Philip Goff’s book Galileo’s Error, which argues forcefully for the idea.

Tänker mycket på AI när jag läser om detta. Artikeln föreslår att minsta beståndsdel av universum, minst elektron, har någon form av grundläggande medvetande. Jag har också hört teorier om att växter har medvetande i mycket större utsträckning än vi tidigare trott. Se experimenten där man jämfört växter som man vårdag ömt med kärleksfullt språk med växter man skällt på och kallat smädeord. Resultatet ska vara häpnadsväckande. Min poäng är denna: om intelligens och medvetande finns i allt, då är artificiell intelligens en ickefråga. Självklart finns artificiellt medvetande, eftersom allt är medvetande. Det handlar bara om vilken komplexitet vi tillför intelligensen, för att den ska kunna bete sig liknande vår mänskliga intelligens. Detta lyfter också frågan hur mycket av vår mänskliga intelligens som sitter i vår fysiska kropp. Små ledtrådar finns överallt. Robert Greene pratar om det vedertagna i att det finns en stark koppling mellan handens och hjärnans arbete. Att anteckningar i en anteckningsbok skapar starkare synapser än att anteckna digitalt. Jag själv nämner treenigheten sinne, kropp, natur i gårdagens REEL. Tre avgörande beståndsdelar för välmående. Tre delar som egentligen är samma .

Fortsätter med artikeln i Scientific American. 

Since Galileo’s time the physical sciences have leaped forward, explaining the workings of the tiniest quarks to the largest galaxy clusters. But explaining things that reside “only in consciousness”—the red of a sunset, say, or the bitter taste of a lemon—has proven far more difficult. Neuroscientists have identified a number of neural correlates of consciousness—brain states associated with specific mental states—but have not explained how matter forms minds in the first place. As philosopher Colin McGinn put it in a 1989 paper, “Somehow, we feel, the water of the physical brain is turned into the wine of consciousness.” Philosopher David Chalmers famously dubbed this quandary the “hard problem” of consciousness.

But panpsychism attracts many critics as well. Some point out that it doesn’t explain how small bits of consciousness come together to form more substantive conscious entities. Detractors say that this puzzle, known as the “combination problem,” amounts to panpsychism’s own version of the hard problem. The combination problem “is the serious challenge for the panpsychist position,” Goff admits. “And it’s where most of our energies are going.”

Paul Draper, a philosopher at Purdue University, talked about a subtly different idea known as “psychological ether theory”—essentially that brains don’t produce consciousness but rather make use of consciousness. In this view, consciousness was already there before brains existed, like an all-pervasive ether. If the idea is correct, he writes, “then (in all likelihood) God exists.”

Känner starkt behov av en mörkblå sweatshirt, helst amerikansk navy eller university-motiv. Googlar. Broadway & Sons har, men ovillig att betala 600 kr för vintage. Det får bli en jakt.

Kidsen ute och leker, spelar strandtennis på gräsmattan, försvinner iväg på cyklarna. Att ha dem här, tillsammans, roaming ön utomhus, det är en bliss.

Öppnar Maria Popovas nyhetsbrev, hon vittnar om en läsning av en geolog vid namn Richard J. Nevle och hans buddistiske poet till vän Steven Nightingale. De skrev gemensamt en bok vid namn The Paradiset Notebooks, om en vandring genom Sierra Nevada-öknen.

Nevle skriver:

Many claim to have found God in the mountains. I don’t know what God is, but I admit to having sought her there too.

Whatever my search, I have found that the pursuit of scientific inquiry — its own, necessarily limited kind of truth-seeking — can be as much an act of devotion as it is scholarly meditation.

For to pay attention to the world, to seek its stories, to run your fingers along some crack of rock or furrow of tree bark, to admire a raptor in flight, to look, closely, at the construction of a previously unencountered wildflower — to wonder and to seek answers to how these things might have come to be in the world — are themselves acts of devotion, ways of knowing, ways of longing for communion.

Många har hittat Gud i öknen, många hittar Gud i naturen.

Lyssnar på Philip Goff, lär mig med om panpsychism. I princip är det en tredje disciplin, mitt emellan materialistiska tänket, att allt är sprunget ur fysikens lagar och att vårt medvetande kommer ur hjärnans komplexitet… samt det dualistiska tänket, att medvetande existerar parallellt på något sätt, helt bredvid det fysiska. Panpsychism – allt är medvetande – vittnar om att all materia har ett inbyggt medvetande, det är ett slags substrata genom hela universum. Jag gillar tänket.

Problemet, vilket Goff lägger ut, är att vetenskapen aldrig kommer bevisa detta, för det finns inget sätt att kvantifiera och verifiera våra medvetna individuella upplevelser. Medvetandet, enligt de mest die harda fysiker, finns alltså inte i vetenskaplig mening, för vi kan inte bevisa att det finns. Ingen kan bevisa min upplever av världen, och ingen kan bevisa din. Finner detta djupt fascinerade. Redan beställt hans bok från Amazon.

Minne: S vid köksbordet på fredagkvällen, då vi pratade om anteckningsböcker, och hon peppade mig att börja rita i mina böcker, hon hade någon fantastiskt inspirerad utläggning om att jag borde satsa och tro på mig själv, och att man kan nå dit man når om man bara ger sig tiden. Det var en mycket vacker utläggning, förmodligen inspirerad av hennes Åke Skiöld-böcker. Jag sa att jag gärna skulle vilka rita miljöer, arkitektur. Jag kanske borde testa. Hon får tipsa mig om bra pennor, hon hade en fantastik blyerts jag skulle vilja ha.

[lyamobrian]

CAPITULO 8: El Poder Que No Puedo Controlar.

El ambiente en la casa de los Rhodes estaba cargado de una tensión palpable. La familia de Dylan, sentada en la mesa, observaba atentamente a los padres de Ryan, como si cada palabra que se pronunciara pudiera cambiarlo todo. Roland Rhodes, el padre de Dylan, rompió el silencio con una voz profunda, cargada de preocupación.

—Tenemos que hablar de lo que ocurrió anoche, —dijo, mirando a los padres de Ryan. La atmósfera estaba cargada de una extraña calma, pero se sentía que algo más grande estaba en juego.

Gregory y Evelyn, los padres de Ryan, no podían disimular la culpa que los embargaba. Habían estado ocultando la verdad durante años. Aunque no eran los padres biológicos de Ryan, siempre habían cuidado de él, siendo los verdaderos brujos quienes los habían tomado bajo su tutela. Y ahora que los padres de Dylan ya conocían la verdad sobre el mundo sobrenatural, todo parecía haberse complicado aún más.

—El consejo se ha reunido, —continuó Roland, su voz grave. Los ojos de los padres de Ryan brillaban con una mezcla de culpabilidad y ansiedad. Sabían que el momento de enfrentar la realidad había llegado. El consejo, formado por representantes de todas las especies, estaba en alerta. Las tensiones entre las criaturas sobrenaturales habían alcanzado niveles insostenibles.

—¿Qué pasó exactamente anoche? —preguntó Evelyn, la voz temblorosa. A pesar de que ya conocían la existencia de seres sobrenaturales, los eventos de la noche anterior los habían sacudido. Era claro que lo que fuera que había ocurrido, no era algo común.

—No lo sabemos, —respondió Roland, su mirada fija y seria—. Pero el consejo está preocupado. Todos los brujos, vampiros, hombres lobo y otras criaturas en un radio de 300 kilómetros lo han sentido. Es un evento que no podemos ignorar.

Ryan observaba en silencio. No entendía completamente lo que estaba sucediendo, pero algo dentro de él, una sensación vaga y lejana, le decía que todo esto tenía que ver con él. Recordó la magia que había sentido, esa chispa de poder que había invadido su cuerpo en la noche del ataque. No sabía qué lo había desencadenado ni cómo lo había hecho, pero lo sentía, como si un cambio estuviera en marcha dentro de él.

Dylan estaba parado cerca de la ventana, observando el paisaje, pero Ryan no podía ignorar la forma en que sus ojos se posaban en él, con una intensidad tan fuerte que casi lo incomodaba. Dylan no decía nada, pero su cuerpo hablaba por él. La forma en que se mantenía alerta, como si estuviera dispuesto a proteger a Ryan de algo, le hacía sentir una mezcla de confusión y... algo más. Dylan no lo sabía, pero el deseo que sentía por él era imposible de ocultar.

—Nosotros... —dijo Gregory, sintiendo la presión de la situación. Miró a Roland, con una expresión grave—. Nos hemos mantenido al margen, lo sabemos. Pero ahora, con todo esto, ¿qué debemos hacer?

Roland hizo una pausa, mirando a los padres de Ryan. La tensión era evidente en su rostro, y su voz se suavizó un poco al hablar.

—Lo único que podemos hacer es esperar, —dijo con firmeza. —El consejo está tomando cartas en el asunto, pero nadie sabe qué significa esto. Sabemos que es grave. Y no podemos permitirnos subestimarlo.

Ryan asintió, aunque en el fondo se sentía más perdido que nunca. Había una magia dentro de él que no podía controlar, y ni siquiera entendía de dónde provenía. Recordó lo que había sucedido en la noche del ataque, cómo había sentido ese poder recorriendo su cuerpo, y aunque no sabía cómo lo había hecho, sentía que estaba vinculado a algo mucho más grande de lo que había imaginado.

Dylan se acercó a él, con una mirada cargada de emociones no dichas, pero Ryan no sabía qué hacer con eso. No entendía por qué se sentía así, por qué Dylan lo miraba de esa manera, como si no solo fuera su amigo, sino algo más. Pero la confusión no era solo por la situación sobrenatural; era porque el vínculo entre ellos, lo que sea que fuera, comenzaba a sentirse más real, más intenso.

—¿Y qué pasa con la magia? —preguntó Ryan, rompiendo el silencio, su voz baja. Miró a sus padres, buscando respuestas. —Yo... yo no sé qué sucedió. No sé cómo lo hice, pero... hay algo dentro de mí. Algo que no entiendo.

Dylan no apartó la mirada, y sus ojos brillaron con una mezcla de preocupación y deseo. Era claro que, aunque intentaba mantenerse distante, su instinto protector hacia Ryan no hacía más que crecer.

—Por ahora, lo único que podemos hacer es esperar y mantenernos alertas, —respondió Roland, con tono grave. —Lo peor que podríamos hacer es actuar sin tener toda la información. Nadie sabe qué podría traer este evento.

Ryan asintió, aunque sabía que eso no sería suficiente. Algo dentro de él le decía que este era solo el comienzo.

[rhysdasiorarchive]

“No, I wasn’t. The extra few days would have gone towards your rehabilitation if necessary, as well as adequate time to recuperate; mentally, emotionally and physically if needs be. It’s the standard procedure in my family coven and a practice I’ve had drilled into me. I don’t like having to alter it but you’re giving me barely any time, here. If you’d bothered showing up to your previous appointment, it all could’ve been said and done by now. Perhaps you should consider this a lesson to learn.” It was far too tempting to call it quits on the entire thing and abandon the prospect entirely. With every second that passed, Rhys felt himself grow wearier and wearier and he was struggling in seeing the point of helping at all.

As Shade launched into his next torrent of noise, Rhys spared a quick glance at his phone and winced at the number of notifications. It wasn’t easy trying to subtly text back, but he managed a concise explanation and shoved his phone back into his pocket with a sigh, hoping at least one of the parties vying for his attention could be satisfied with a response from him. “You’re keeping me from him right now,” Rhys replied bluntly, his displeasure over such a fact evident in his tone. “If you’d decided to show up tomorrow morning, I’d probably be a little more willing to fully cooperate. Well, if we’re applying your baseless logic to the situation, that is.” 

The next series of events occurred in such quick succession that Rhys barely had time to react to anything before he found himself pinned by the newfound bane of his existence. Holding Shade’s gaze with a disappointed stare, Rhys heaved a heavy sigh and gave the cambion a few seconds to feel proud of himself before allowing his transmutation magic to take hold. With a little skilfully employed intangibility magic, Rhys phased through both Shade’s grip and Shade himself to make it to safety on the other side of his desk with a tired sigh of relief as the magic gradually subsided. He’s always hated the lingering discomfort with such a spell and only ever used it as a last resort, but resorting to violence wasn’t the gentleman’s way, nor would he feel like explaining such a tale to Seth at any point, so it had been a necessary evil. “I’d like to remind you that you’re in my place of work, Shade. I expect a modicum of common decency as the bare minimum – I’m sure even you are capable of that. Secondly, given your status as the unfathomable apple of Seth’s eye, I don’t wish to engage with you on anything deeper than a professional level. Don’t try that shit with me.” Given that Seth was more like a son than a colleague to him these days, the thought of involving himself with Shade in any way wasn’t one he wished to entertain. “If you’ve got any sense, you’ll agree to the terms of my earlier offer and won’t give me a reason to bring up your treatment of a staff member to any member of the council. Tell me, do I make myself clear?”

"Which means you were blowin smoke up my ass with your few days spiel, Sabrina." Shade was tossing the paperweight between his hands now. "The fuck is that about? You like adding in time just for shits and grins? Never mind, we'll unpack that later." Shade said not all that interested because Rhys phone going off continuously caught his attention too and having an overthinking guy he was into he knew what it was like to be asked a lot of questions about shit.

"Pretty sure you don't know what the fuck your type is, if you ain't slept with no one since the dawn of time, darlin." He watched the other text a few more times. "Who you got with your hold out ass? Someone else who's scared of sex? Scared of their dick? They know how to use it? Seen it before? Need pointers or you need some." Shade now threw the paperweight at the witch and it served it's purpose to distract as he used his new found speed to follow it. Taking the man and his chair to the ground. Rolling them around until he had the other pinned under him.

Shade was sure the guy'd likely never had a man atop of him before. Definitely not one as good as looking as him either. "Know what to do when he gets you like this or you just gonna panic, princess?"

[avaford2009]

Sofia the First (Rewrite) - Clover is a Star! -

CEDRIC

Thank you. Thank you so much, Sofia. Having to pretend to care, having to snack at only my most desperate moments has been quite annoying.

He then turns and walks towards Queen Miranda.

CEDRIC

And waiting for you to hand over the star...

KING ROLAND II

Queen Miranda!

The guard blocks King Roland II’s body in order to silence him.

CEDRIC

...is making me unexpectedly hungry! Hmm, but perhaps I'll start with your mother's wish.

 SOFIA

(O.S.) Stop! Okay, okay, I'll give you the star.

In what may go down in Enchancia’s history as the single greatest example of desperate times calling for desperate measures, Sofia raises Clover over her head and presents him as the star. Cedric and the crowd look at Clover in astonishment and understandable disbelief.

ENCHANCIA CITIZEN #1

Is this a joke?

CLOVER

(WHISPER TO HIMSELF) I can do this, I can do this, I can do this! No, there's no way I can do this! (SHOUTING) People of Enchancia!

ENCHANCIA CITIZEN #2

The rabbit talks!

CLOVER

Hello, I come from the sky! I am here for you!

Sofia’s friends could tell that the crowd still needs convincing so they decide to join in.

PRINCESS AMBER

Oh my goodness! It is the most beautiful star I’ve ever seen!

PRINCE JAMES

It’s a miracle!

RUBY HANSHAW

Oh, this is amazing!

CEDRIC

What game is this!?

CLOVER

Cedric! If you want me, first you have to free everyone's wishes!

Cedric doesn’t believe that Clover is a star.

CEDRIC

That’s just the rabbit!

To convince the crowd of his power, Clover calls to the animals.

CLOVER

WEEE!!!

And the animals answer. All over Enchancia and even from the uncharted forest, dogs, mice, birds, fireflies, horses, goats, and all types of creatures from around the island stampede to assure the crowd of Clover’s power. An eagle lifts Clover from Sofia’s arms as fireflies form into a star behind him. The audience marvels at Clover’s glory, fully convinced.

CLOVER

It's over, Cedric! You have no choice but to surrender!

Cedric smiles indignantly.

CEDRIC

I have no choice.

Cedric uses all the wishes he held hostage spin around before crushing into his hands. The crowd watches in horror as several of them panting in grief from the desolation in their hearts.

SOFIA

Wha-! No!

The surge of power Cedric receives from destroying all those wishes at once begins to transform him. He grows larger, so large that the staff, which was once more than a foot taller than him now only had the head poking out of his closed fist. black hair with white bangs covers his body as his shirt and shoes tear away as a result of his new size. The bottom of his jaw extends into an underbite with large canines jutting out of it. His legs bend and contort in a way that made them resemble a wolf’s rather than a person’s. Sharp, black horns grow from the top of his head and his eyes become entirely green. Even Cordelia is horrified by Cedric’s transformation but Cedric himself relishes his new body and laughs in triumph over the power it grants him.

The guards see this and as they try to comfort those of them who have had their wishes destroyed, they realize that this has gone too far.

ENCHANCIA GUARD #1

We gotta do something!

The remaining guards charge at Cedric who just swats them aside like flies. He turns to Sofia with a massive grin on his face. His voice reverberates as he speaks.

CEDRIC

You think I’m an idiot?! I have the power. I have your wishes, I will have the star! So where is it?

Sofia is so terrified by what has just transpired that she can’t help but look at the lights coming from the top of the royal castle. Cedric follows her gaze as realization dawns on him.

INT. ENCHANCIA CASTLE, CEDRIC’S STUDY - NIGHT

Back inside Cedric’s study, all of the wishes and a myriad of seemingly random objects swirl around Star as he looks onto Princess Clio and Prince Desmond.

STAR

I think it’s working! Maybe? Almost? We're so close! We just need one more ingredient!

[acupofbritishearlgrey]

singing about each other during their divorce

'Fish Out Of Water' (1993)

'Sun King' (1998)

+ some quotes under cut:

Washington Post (1993): "Well, a lot of the songs were written while I was in a sense going through the divorce," Orzabal says. "Things like "Break It Down Again" refer to that to some degree, and "Fish Out of Water",  obviously.

Modern Rock Live Online (1995): Question: What is the song "Fish out of Water" about? T4FMRL: It is my "How Do You Sleep"? (The John Lennon song.)

Curt’s Radio Interview (1998?): Int.: Now you mentioned ‘Sun King��, so… CS: [chuckles nervously] Int.: We'll try to make it painless. So, I gather the subject matter is openly presented. CS: Yeah. Int.: I guess I gather at this point: you're still really not on good terms then. CS: Well, I don't… I don't think it's necessary that we're not on good terms. I mean, because how would we know? We haven't spoken to each other for years. But no, the… I mean, to straighten out the whole story behind ‘Sun King’ and, you know, people ask, and I said, ‘Well, yeah’, I mean, it's sort of a reply to ‘Fish Out of Water’, but you've got to put all these things in perspective because… a: when I first heard ‘Fish Out of Water’, it didn't piss me off. I found it quite amusing and… in a perverse way flattering, that someone would write a song about me, albeit in particularly unflattering terms. And then when I was writing ‘Sun King’, it was one of those songs that started literally with the chords, and… there's different ways I start songs. It may be like with a lyric idea, like ‘Jasmine's Taste’, or maybe with like the trumpet line on ‘What Are We Fighting For’, and that's the melody I remember. And with… with ‘Sun King’, it was a very discordant song, and it sounded musically very angry, so I wanted the lyrics to be angry. So then I go back thinking something I'm angry about, and so… this is the thought process I'm going through, and… but always in the back of my mind with a certain sort of tongue-in-cheek, you know, maturity about the whole thing that, you know, I really wasn't that pissed off, like I said, but it's an angry song, so how should I do this? And then like some, ‘Okay, I'm angry at Roland, right’ and… So how do I like translate that anger? Well, I think of ‘Fish Out Of Water’ at this point in time and I think, well, it's a very cerebral song and it's a very sort of roundabout way of dissing me, you know, and so I think, ‘Okay, how would one answer that?’ And I'm thinking of us as people, and we're different that way as people. He's very cerebral and he's into astrology, and, you know, and psychics, and all this kind of stuff, and I'm pretty straightforward and base, and that was the, you know, a lot of the time the reason why we work well together, strangely enough. And so I'm thinking of, ‘Okay, so I'm the bass one’. So, in more ways than one, forgive the musical pun. And so I'm thinking along the lines of, well, someone's like being very cerebral with you, and your answer would be what? And I'm like, okay, well, na-na-na-na-na, your mama's fat, kind of thing. You know, that's the way you want to deal with it. So that's ‘Sun King’. That's my version of that. ‘Sun King’ is just my way of being really straight ahead, like, ‘Go screw yourself’, basically, as opposed to being too like intellectual about it or anything. And the whole, I mean… I wasn't amusing myself while doing it, so it wasn't like it's all like really bass anger and it's a hundred percent men, you know? I… I find sort of half of it amusing in it's, because it's so based, and it's not the way I feel about him most of the time at all. But it's... it was just an answer to a song, and that's the way I wanted to make it, and, you know, I find it amusing, and hopefully he can take it the same way, but who knows?

LEXICON (summer 1997): CS: <...> I think a lot of these things get blown out of proportion by other people. It's also our fault as writers. You start a song off with a premise, which in the case of "Sun King" is "I'm going to answer 'Fish out of Water' ". And then the song just takes on a life of it's own. <…> the emotion in the song is what carries the song. That's not the way I feel about Roland every day of the week.

Cover Magazine (11.1997): Q: They say the song "Sun King" might be a swipe at Roland. CS: That would be because it is. Q: Any bitterness there? CS: I don't think there is — no, not on my part. The thing you have to remember about "Sun King" is that it's so tongue-in-cheek. I was amusing myself really. He wrote this song called "Fish Out of Water" which was about me in very unflattering terms. But it was in his normal cerebral sense that he does everything... overthinking and overintellectualizing whatever he does. It's an incredibly intelligent way of dissing me. I try to think about the best way to respond to this. I can't do it on his terms because it's not in my nature. I used to do it and we'd get into these arguments about what's right. There is no right and wrong — it's just one of those endless arguments that go on and on. That's what happens when you get in a fight with Roland. You can never win. The best you could do is not lose. "Sun King" is my response to someone intellectually dissing me. It's so blunt and to the point. I was always a lot more direct.

Tears for Fears' Curt Smith launches Mayfield (12.1998): "I’ve never consciously wanted to go out of my way to tear Roland apart because I think the reason it didn’t work was both our faults. And I think the more you labour on it the more it eats away at you." <...> "I’ve only heard Fish Out of Water once and it didn’t piss me off at all. At one level I was kind of flattered that someone would write a song about me. "Sun King is supposed to be amusing - I’m laughing while I’m writing it because I find it funny. Something that’s so blatantly over the top, I’m kind of laughing while I’m writing it, because I really don’t harbour those kinds of grudges."

Q Magazine (05.2004): Q: Roland, is Fish Out Of Water (from Elemental, his first ‘solo’ Tears For Fears album) about Curt? If so, those are some pretty cutting lyrics... RO: Yes, it is, and it contains some of my favourite lyrics. “We used to sit and talk about primal scream/To exorcise our past was our adolescent dream/But now its sink or swim since your memory fails/Now in Neptune's kitchen you will be food for killer whales.” Fantastic, no? Pure vitriol. CS: I couldn't give a fuck, quite frankly. It's a compliment, in some ways. RO: Absolutely. It means I cared deeply for him. [Laughs] That’s one way of interpreting it, anyway… <...> Q: After the fallout in 1990, was Roland pleased to see Curt’s career flop? RO: I didn't like his first solo album at all, but then nor did he. I felt it was going in the wrong direction. But his second, Mayfield, was really good. I thought to myself, ‘Why didn't he do this when we were together? I wouldn't have let him?’ Well, that’s probably true. I did view Tears For Fears very much as my band, I suppose.

Metro Silicon Valley (08.07.2009): "I thought it was quite amusing," Smith says of the song today. "That was a song obviously written out of anger. I'd left the band, he was pissed off, and fair enough." (Smith recorded a response, "The Sun King," on his next solo album.) <…> As for the vindictive songs they once wrote for each other? Water under the bridge, says Smith — even though he still feels he got in a humorous last word. "The 'Fish Out of Water' thing was a little obtuse," he says. "And my song was like, 'Yeah, but you're fat.'"

Curt's twitter (07.09.2013):

Curt's twitter (12.12.2013):

Curt's twitter (16.04.2014):

Curt's twitter (19.03.2020): [1; 2]

Vulture (10.02.2022): CS: I get a real kick out of “Fish Out of Water,” which is about me in a very derogatory way. I found it highly amusing.

[idagnyheter]

Roland Drexler jagas – misstänkt mord på borgmästare

“Mycket obehaglig situation” • Polisteori: Gömde sig i skogen i en kamouflerad bil Roland Drexler är fortfarande på fri fot.Polisen har fått in över 200 tips i jakten på den misstänkte mördaren i Österrike – som tros gömma sig i en kamouflerad bil. – Roland kommer absolut inte att låta sig fångas levande, säger en bekant till Kronen Zeitung. Två personer mördades i den lilla staden Kirchberg ob…