#lecturis

[garadinervi]

From: Schrofer Sketches, Text by Frederike Huygen, Designed by Studio Joost Grootens, Lecturis, Eindhoven, 2014 [Dutch lettering history]

[m1ssunderstanding]

If Paul can't be who he is, or talk to people, keeping it in him who's to blame for this. If he has problems he doesn"t talk about or we older fans see him the way we do, whom is he hiding from? Is it really fare to blame his fans for thinking like he's happy and got it together. Do the younger generation see things differently? I care and adore Paul and don't want to think he isn't. Is that it? Or do we need to feel he's lying and all pr I know pretty much everything public about Paul. I dont mean to be rude or disagree with you. I enjoy seeing new fans and sees him from your pov but I wanna know what you think what he feels he can't share.

Hi! Okay, let's break this down.

Question one: Who is to blame for Paul not being more open about his private life?

Jim McCartney. Next question. No, it's a lot more complicated than that. Besides it being just a natural part of his personality, the foundation of this trait was formed through the whole context of his upbringing which laid the groundwork for how Paul would react to fame, as opposed to the other three. Then, because he was already set up to do so, fame and its side-affects and consequences made Paul double down on closing up. Then during the breakup, John's diarrhea of the mouth syndrome and Linda's encouraging Paul to lean into his home life and let his public life be, put Paul further into a pattern of craving privacy.

Question two: Is it fair to blame older fans for taking Paul's public self as his private self?

Firstly, I don't see the point in talking about blame in the first place. A) being a private person, putting on a face in public, is neither bad nor uncommon. (Maybe nobody really does it to the degree Paul does it. Maybe it does have some negative outcomes and does point to a lack of self-assurance and a strong tendency to emotional avoidance) but to some degree, Paul's cagey and fake public self is normal and healthy. B) blame is the least interesting mystery here.

Secondly, no one is trying to blame older fans for Paul's behavior. What I personally am frustrated with is what such a large group of people taking the surface as the entire ocean does to Paul's character as a historical figure and to the Beatles narrative as a whole. However, this large group is certainly not limited to older fans, nor does it contain all the older fans. Additionally, people can do, think, and say what they want. It's not some pressing humanitarian concern if people misunderstand Paul McCartney and the Beatles. It does seem to indicate and contribute to a large-scale cultural deficiency which may negatively impact more important social issues, but it is certainly far from a life and death situation.

Question three: Does the younger generation see things differently?

I'd actually never thought of these views in terms of generations, but yes, I guess many younger fans do look beyond the surface more than many older fans do.

Question four: Do we need to assume Paul is lying and all PR?

Again. Nobody needs to do anything. Do what you want. But. If you are looking to gain a more serious understanding of one of the most influential people of the twentieth century, then I suggest you don't take every word from his mouth as one-hundred-percent truthful as you should with anyone. This is absolutely not to say Paul is a liar and only cares about looking good to the public for business reasons. In fact, I believe if he was completely open about a lot of the things he guards against fully sharing, he would come off a lot better.

My personal rules of thumb with the Beatles are these: 1. John (and to a lesser extent George) often speaks from a place of strong emotion and uses talking about his experiences and feelings to regulate and soothe. Therefore, his statements are often extreme and often emphasize the negative. Paul (and to a lesser extent Ringo) cannot express strong emotion and fears talking about his experiences and feelings without disguising them or softening them. Therefore, his statements are often evasive and often emphasize the positive. If John says "I was going through murder," he means, "my mental health struggles were particularly difficult at that time even with all the good things I had going for me." If Paul says, "but it wasn't all, you know, great," he means, "Despite what I've made it seem like, that period of my life was not even safe, let alone perfect." 2. Take into account the culture these men were raised in and the attitude that culture would've pushed on them about certain topics. None of them are going to be particularly open about anything they would've been in any way punished for during the bulk of their life experience.

Question five: What do you think Paul feels he can't share?

If you were internationally famous, would you share absolutely everything about your personal life, innermost thoughts, politics, desires, regrets, hurts, and loves? I don't think so. Now, imagine you had most of your ability to be emotionally vulnerable beaten out of you as a child, you and your three best friends experienced death threats and permanent career damage due to one seemingly innocuous comment, and the person you trusted most in the world turned on a dime and exploited all your insecurities and the entire world followed suit for decades. I imagine there would be galaxies filled with all the things you feel you can't share and that you would use whatever protective measures necessary to keep yourself sane.

[atlantic-grave]

Another au Hollow 🌝

Their name is Silvas, there isn't much to say bc it's just a massively self indulgent au. They have glowy top surgery markings and glowy cracks! They have much more control over soul than fluffy Hollow, or Knight (monster hollow).

[girlspecimen]

there is something so wonderfully horny seeming about biographers talking about their favorite historical figure of interest. one of the expert biographers of ho chi minh they have speaking in this documentary keeps talking about how as a young man he had like an "air of intensity" and "dark, sharp eyes that seemed to bore into the soul" lololol

[cristinaboncea]

10 lecturi la care am renunțat și de ce

Am citit în această viață câteva cărți care nu mi-au plăcut, la fel cum am făcut și alte lucruri ce nu mi-au produs bucurie pentru că nu știam încă despre “nu trebuie”. Acest imperativ ne ține deseori captivi în numele unui principiu mai mare și transformă experiența vieții noastre în ceva anost, care ne ia mai mult decât să ne ofere. Raportat la lectură, am decis cu ceva vreme în urmă că nu voi…

[semnebune]

Keanu Reeves și China Miéville au scris împreună o carte

Ce cred cititorii despre unele cărți clasice; provocare de lectură pentru adulți; de ce nu e bine să împrumuți cărți – o abordare amuzantă; Keanu Reeves și China Miéville au scris împreună o carte; o listă cu cele mai bune romane din literatura japoneză – iată câteva știri din lumea literară, în ton cu sezonul vacanțelor. ♣ Prima oprire am făcut-o pe website-ul The Washington Post, unde mi-a…

[loredanaadrianam]

Ce am citit în luna martie 2024

Dragilor, îmi mai fac și eu apariția pe aici din an în Paște, dar momentan chiar am destul timp la dispoziție din motiv de concediu medical, așa că m-am gândit să vă prezint în câteva cuvinte lecturile mele din martie. A fost o lună foarte bună și am reușit să citesc în toate cele trei medii disponibile: hârtie, digital și audio. Nu-mi fac un scop din asta, dar e foarte plăcut când îmi dau seama…

[saltcharm]

i feel like this author just finished taking a gender 201 course and like. it has fundamentally changed their interpretation of the world and made them a more compassionate person, but Also i'm over here in the 400 levels and really not reading this fic for a lecture

[xumoonhao]

yknow. sometimes i read things i write and think it’s so good and wonder how i wrote it, and other times i re-read things and it feels like an encyclopedia entry bc it’s so sterile and serious and i always wonder why and then i remember ah yes…..the Autism……………

[bmhasdeu]

Jane Austen, scriitoarea care a creat cele mai iubite eroine literare din toate timpurile

La 16 decembrie, 2023, se împlinesc 248 de ani de la naşterea lui Jane Austen (1775-1817), cea mai notabilă scriitoare engleză realistă din perioada romantică pre-victoriană „Uneori, ca să faci o revoluție, e destul să ai un stilou, o mică masă de scris și o fereastră prin care să poți urmări lumea de afară. Îmi amintesc bine salonul casei noastre din Steventon, unde tatăl meu era paroh. Eram…

[asistenta-virtuala]

Promoțiile zilei, 21 iulie

La Noriel, ai Transport Gratuit la orice comanda, pana la data de 23 iulie. Descopera ofertele Noriel și bucura-te acum de transport gratuit! Si campania 20% Reducere la toate papusile si masinutele – Cupon NORIEL20 -24-27Iulie. Esti in cautarea celor mai distractive jucarii pentru cei mici? Acum ai ocazia sa le achizitionezi la un super pret! Foloseste codul: NORIEL20 si ai 20% Reducere la toata…

[garadinervi]

Stanley Brouwn, 1 m, 1 step, Published by Stedelijk van Abbemuseum, Eindhoven, Printed by Lecturis BV, Eindhoven, 1976, Edition of 500 [Walker Art Center, Minneapolis, MN. © Stanley Brouwn]

[julia-kalman]

Despre efectul Dunning-Kruger

“Upload pe AMAZON”, “indie author”, “traditionally published author”, “digital marketing”, “social media advertising”, “daily prompt”, “SEO”, sau “CEO”… sunt termeni care produc o mulțime de confuzii. De aceea, este important să ne documentăm și să ne actualizăm cunoștințele cât mai des. “Indie author” nu are legătură cu India, ci este diminutivul lui “independent author”. “Un autor independent…

[andreablog2]

I have a lot of respect for people w that mix of off putting intensity with dryness but like calm too if know what I mean. Like lectury and information driven and sort of indifferent but cordial and symbolically passionate. I feel like that sort of vibe is really frowned upon but im always so taken aback by it.

[letters-from-dekarios]

tolerate it

summary: you and gale were growing apart. your usual cute routine slipped into becoming a mundane list of tasks you did, and the tension was slowly rising. it was high time something snapped between you two, it was just a matter of when.

or: you and gale get into an argument that ends.. badly.

word count: 2.8k

tags: established relationship, gale x gn!reader, angst, abrasive language, based on ‘tolerate it’ by tswift, lyrics used loosely, part of the mystra hate club

Gale Dekarios. Notorious ‘Wizard of Waterdeep’. Your boyfriend and the love of your life. You had been together for years now, you knew each other like the back of your hands.

There wasn’t a thing separating you from one another- until now. Until he started investing his time more and more into his studies. Until he started going away and into the weave for nights on end. Until he started ignoring you.

You had a nice routine going for a while. He’d get up, make you breakfast, and you’d start the shower for him. He’d get ready and you’d set the table, prepped with the dishes your friends gifted you when you moved in together. You’d go out to get the paper, and he’d be waiting for you to solve the latest crossword puzzle. You were always by his side, whether it was helping him point out certain notes in his books, or simply existing by him. Sometimes he’d cling to you, too, as you practiced in your artwork. If he had to leave for a while, you’d have dinner ready and made for him. Sometimes you’d do nothing at all and everything in the world together. You were inseparable.

But now? Now, that routine turned into daily tasks. Those tasks soon turned into chores, and finally, you dreaded waking up in the morning, only to feel your heart break over and over again. You tried to bring it up, tried to tell him how neglected you felt, but it was met with apathy, a wave of the hand, a “we’ll talk about this later”. You couldn’t bring yourself to up and leave- not after all the time you had spent on him. On together. Whatever your concept of “us” had become.

Today was no different than every day for the last three months. You sat at the table, watching Gale read over the paper you begrudgingly brought in. You watched his chest rise and fall unceremoniously, unfazed by the world around him. When he was done, he got up, put his dishes away, and left for his study to get back into things.

He didn’t even notice you hadn’t touched a thing on your plate.

A few hours went by, Gale left to go to the library, and you waited. You waited like a little kid, hoping that this time- this time would be different. This time he would come back and welcome you with open arms, this time he would kiss you like he used to, this time would be happy. This time he would love you.

He was gone for a few more hours, you made dinner, and you waited. Again and again, you waited. You waited for him to come home, to become the man he used to be. The longer you waited, the more he strayed from the path you thought you were on.

The day came and went, you made no move to attempt to talk about it. You were just tired of it all, now.

As you fell asleep, your back to his, you vowed you were over it. You swore to yourself that you were no longer going to sit and watch him, waiting idly for the day that he turned back around. You were not some lovesick puppy who, no matter how many times you were kicked or hit, continued to seek love from someone not willing to give it. You were done.

You didn’t get the paper the next morning. You didn’t set the table, or start the shower, you didn’t do anything you usually did. You got up, you got yourself ready for the day, and that was that. You needed time to think of how to approach him, so you went off to your area of the house and started working on a painting.

You were only left alone with your thoughts for a short time, though, before they were harshly interrupted.

“Why isn’t the table set?” He asked, his voice cold and fierce like he was lecturing a pet who’d done something wrong.

“Because I didn’t set it.” You answered, equally callous. You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing his words out of your mind. He wasn’t going to affect you. You swore on it. You vowed it.

“And why is that?” Why is that? You know why that is. You almost retorted, but instead, you took a breath and shrugged your shoulders.

“I didn’t feel like setting it.”

“Right. Of course.”

A hush fell within your space, you wondered if he was still there behind you. He was. You only knew from the loud sigh he let out, his footsteps trailing away and back out into the hall, that he finally left. You heard the dishes slam into the sink and his door smash shut. It shook your supplies. You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream- at him, at the world, at whatever changed him in such a way that it created this monstrosity before you.

You did everything for him, everything to bring him happiness and comfort, and you were left with what? His disinterest in you?

Was it your body? Were you no longer enough for him? Was it the sex? Did you not satisfy him anymore? Or had he simply grown tired of you altogether? Would nothing you did change anything at all?

He left after a while, and you broke down. Your tears landed in the paints below you, your portrait of him becoming something vile right before your eyes. You hated it. You despised this. This was your home, too. You were supposed to belong here, and yet you felt like a stranger in the space you created with your own hands.

You were waiting for him when he came home. Not with dinner, not with the paper, or with the table set. You were waiting for him with nothing but your words and a desire to leave. You couldn’t keep doing this anymore.

You stood in the foyer, waiting. Time passed slower than ever. You sat in the kitchen, waiting. The moon rose over the hills. You moved to the couch, you lit candles. You went to bed, he wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there.

Your sleep was restless, colder than ever, harsher than the last few months had been. Your desire to leave nearly slipped away. Would you rather be unhappy and in his presence than sleeping soundly? Was that what it came down to?

He was there when you woke up, sat at the kitchen table with his breakfast and the paper.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” You stated, watching as his eyes scanned the words. He didn’t look up at you.

“I didn’t come to bed.”

“I know.”

Silence. You wanted so badly to break it, to smash it with a sledgehammer and send the shards flying across the room.

“Gale-“

“Can we do this after I’ve eaten?”

“No, we can’t.”

No. Had you ever told him that word before? Had it ever slipped off your tongue in the way it just did?

“No?” Now he looked at you. Now he acknowledged your presence, taking up space in his world. Now he let you back in. Only for this.

“I’m done waiting to talk about this. You keep pushing me off- pushing this off. I’m done breaking at your feet and being disappointed that you won’t sweep me up, Gale.” You stood tall, strong. You focused on him, yet kept the image of your happiness ahead of you.

“What kind of a metaphor is that?”

“A damn good one!” You raised your voice at him. You raised your voice at him.

“Don’t shout at me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Silence. Was this what you wanted? Was this how you wanted to do it?

“Fine then. Let’s talk.” He pushed himself out from the table, standing and facing you directly. The deck was in your hands, it was your turn to deal the cards. Had you shuffled them in your favor? Was fate leaning in your direction?

“Fine then.”

You took a breath, thinking of all the time spent on him— spent doting on him, reassuring him, adoring him with everything you had. Then your mind turned to all the times he’d done the same for you. So far and few in between, clarity hit you harder than ever.

“I’ve been doing everything for you for the last few months and this is how you return the favor?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowed together in frustration and despair.

“You’ve hardly done everything,” he retorted, your anger boiling over.

“Every day- every damn day, I wake up and I get the paper, I start your shower, I set the table. When you leave, I clean the house, I polish plates until they gleam and glisten, I make dinner, I wait for you- I waited for you all night.” Your voice started to shake, but you steadied yourself.

“If it’s all, somehow, in my head- please by all means tell me now. Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow. You act like I’ve done nothing for you when I do everything in the world.”

“And I haven’t done the same?”

“While you were out building other worlds, where was I? When you spent hours on end away from me, where was I? What did you do when you got back? Where’s that man who threw blankets over my barbed wire? Who’d come home and shower me with all the love in the world because he missed me?”

“I still love you.” He tried to interject, but you were past it. Your words were flowing faster than you could think, you had spent so much time cooped up with your thoughts that it all just came out at once.

“No, Gale. I made you my temple, my mural, my sky— now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life. It’s like I don’t even exist to you anymore. You haven’t kissed me in months, we haven’t had a meaningful conversation in weeks. It’s like I’m always taking up too much space or time,” you didn’t want to sound like it, but gods were you begging for him to just return to you.

“Y/N, this is ridiculous. I’ve just been busy. It’s not like we’ve been arguing. We’re fine- there’s been a lot going on,” He sighed, your heart breaking more with every defense he made.

“Really? You assume I’m fine but what would you do if I—“ you cut yourself off, choking back a sob as tears welled in your eyes. How could you say it? How could you even dare ask that question after all you’d been through?

“If you what?” He demanded to know, crossing his arms over his chest. He only wanted to know for himself, not for you, not for your “us” that was slowly crumbling at your feet.

“Break free from this- from us- leave us in ruins? You’re twisting this dagger in me time and time again, Gale. What would you do if I took it and removed it?” Your voice cracked as it raised, your hands gesturing with your words. He looked shocked, almost, that you would even suggest such a thing.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Believe me, I could do it!” You exclaimed, turning and grabbing a bag you had ready nearby in case things went south. You held it up to show him how serious you were about the situation.

“Y/N.”

“I know my love should be celebrated and yet- and yet, you tolerate it. I greet you with a battle hero’s welcome, I take your indiscretions all in good fun, I sit and listen— every day. Every day. And instead of loving me, thanking me for everything I do for you, I get ignored, tossed to the side like I mean nothing to you. You tolerate everything I do like I’m a burden to be around. You expect me to be able to just carry this weight of your disregard for my existence around like nothing. Well, I can’t carry it anymore.” Tears rolled down your cheeks, you noted his expression shift and change as he realized the significance of everything going on. It was like he was seeing how badly he screwed up just now and needed to stall to find out how to fix it.

“Don’t leave-“

“I’m done!”

“Y/N.”

You slung your bag over your shoulder, pushing past him and heading for the door. It hurt. It hurt more than anything in your life ever had but in a small, tucked away part of your heart, it felt better than ever.

“Y/N!” He raised his voice, you nearly stopped, but you kept going.

He called your name again, but you blocked him out. You blocked it all out- the damage, the outrage, the apprehension. You had no idea where you were going or what you were doing next but you didn’t care. You were free and you’d be damned if you weren’t happy about it.

Except it wasn’t that easy, of course it wasn’t. It never could be.

Suddenly, you were back in the house, unable to move. You were stuck in place, an emblem glowing around you. He cast a holding spell. You wanted to kick and scream and claw your way out, but you were helpless. You were nothing in comparison to him— did he have to make you aware of that?

“You wanted to talk. I hardly got a word in at all.”

You were released from the spell, not daring to look him in the eye. How could he? How dare he?

“How dare—“

“Don’t start.” He warned, his voice lowered to his seriousness. You became afraid. Afraid? You’d never been afraid of him. Afraid of losing him, sure. But afraid of him? Never. Except for now.

“My sincerest apologies go out to you for feeling this way. But I would never-“

“And yet you did!” You cried out, holding yourself together. You couldn’t pick yourself up if he just kept smashing you to pieces like this. You swore you could do this, that you would do this, but he was making it harder by the second.

“You can’t just leave like this!”

“I can and I will, goddamnit! I don’t want to be with someone who will never give me the peace of mind or recognition of my love that I deserve!”

“For Mystra’s sake..”

“Don’t bring her into this.”

“I’m not bringing anyone into anything. Nothing is happening! You’re not leaving!”

You both stared at each other, eyes narrowed with frustration at one another. You wanted this to be over. You needed it to be over.

“You know what, Gale. It’s really nice putting two-and-two together. Because ever since you started slipping away into the Weave, you’ve gotten more and more distant.”

“Don’t say what you’re about to say, y/n. You’ll regret it.”

“Oh? Will I? Will I regret it as much as I’ve regretted these last few years with you? Had I known I’d be standing here, begging to be let go, I would’ve never touched you in the first place. I would’ve never even laid eyes on you if I knew that, eventually, you’d let Mystra take hold of you. That you’d let her back into your life how she used to be— tell me, Gale, did you intertwine your soul with hers in those hours away? Did she convince you I was wrong for you? Did she steal you from me, or did you give yourself up willingly?”

He was silent, you had your answer.

No more waiting, no more serving hand and foot, no more. None of it. You gathered yourself up off the floor once more, straightened yourself out, and walked right out the door again. He didn’t try to stop you this time. He didn’t fight it.

Part of you wished he had, that he’d answer you in a way that fit the sad reality you wanted to twist. That it’d turn out he was just busy, that he was stressed and didn’t want to talk about it, and that he’d apologize for everything. Part of you wanted to find comfort in his arms, sob into his chest about how sorry you were for fighting, that you’d both do better. You yearned for him so badly that you were almost willing to turn around and give it all up again for him, but you didn’t. You valued your peace more than him. It would be an adjustment, you knew, but you could do it.

You could do it with a broken heart.

And in a few years, when you’d eventually cross paths again, you’d be happy. You’d have your peace and your love, and you’d be able to show him that you were worth it. You were worth the time and effort he could have put into you but didn’t. You’d be able to show him what he missed out on, and you wouldn’t be sad, or upset about it. You wouldn’t revert to that night, you’d stay the same, changed but strong, person you’d become.

Your love would be celebrated, not tolerated.

[cristinaboncea]

Am citit ce mi-am propus până acum în 2024?

Iată-ne ajunși la jumătatea anului 2024. Pentru mine, nu a trecut deloc rapid, iar pe plan personal au fost câteva luni destul de dificile. În mod paradoxal, în ceea ce privește lecturile, n-am mai avut de mult timp atâta avânt. Am citit 36 de cărți dintre care e drept că vreo 10 sunt din cele pentru copii, care se citesc în maxim jumătate de oră. Câte dintre celelalte se regăsesc însă pe TBR-ul…