#mething but this was written on the 19th

[moron-hassaikai-and-more]

Younger Aizawa: It’s so fucking hot. Like. It’s so hot having the window open does nothing because there’s no wind to move the air about. I was not built for this. I’m an emo with an emotional attachment to onesies and hoodies with sensory issues. I’d be better in fucking Antarctica than here.

[dillydedalus]

april reading

oh yeah this is a thing. anyway in april i read about uhhh.... first contact (twice), murderers on skis & victorian church politics

the yield, tara june winch a novel about indigenous australian identity and history (now and throughout the 20th century) in three narrative strands. imo the narrative strand that consists of a grandfather writing a dictionary of his language (wiradjuri) in order to prove a claim to some land is by far the strongest, but overall i liked this quite a lot. 3/5

land of big numbers, te-ping chen a solid short story collection focused on modern china and young(ish) chinese people, both in china and the diaspora. i particularly liked the stories that had some slighty surreal or speculative elements, such as one about fruit that strongly evoke emotions when eaten and a group of people stuck in a train station for months as the train is delayed, which imo use their speculative aspects in effective (if not super subtle) ways to talk about society. 3/5

the pear field, nana ekvtimishvili (tr. from georgian by elizabeth heighway) international booker prize longlist! a short, fairly depressing read about a 18-year-old girl at a post-soviet school for developmentally disabled childred (but also orphans, abandoned children & other random kids) who is trying to get a younger boy adopted by an american couple. there seem to be a lot of novels set at post-soviet orphanages etc & imo this is a well-executed example of the microgenre, with the pear field full of pears that are never picked bc they don’t taste right as a strong central image. 3/5

the warden, anthony trollope (chronicles of barsetshire #1) ah yes, a 6-part victorian series about church politics in an english town, exactly the kind of thing i’m interested in. not sure why i committed to at least the first two entries of the series but here we are. despite this lack of interest (and disagreement with most of the politics on display here) i found this quite charming; trollope has a gift for an amusing turn of phrase & making fun of his characters in benevolent ways. 3/5

the lesson, cadwell turnbull first contact scifi novel set on the virgin islands, where an alien ship arrives one day. the aliens seem benevolent & share helpful technology, but also react with extreme violence to any aggression. they claim to be on earth to study.... something, but it’s never entirely clear what. the book makes some interesting choices (like immediately skipping over the actual first contact to a few years in the future, when the aliens are already established on the islands) but i thought much of it was kinda disjointed and confusing. 2/5

the heart is a lonely hunter, carson mccullers look, i get it, it’s all about the isolation & alienation (& dare i say loneliness) of 4 miserable characters projecting their issues on the central character singer, who is kind and patient and also deaf and mute, thus making him the perfect receptacle for their issues without really having to connect with him as a person and how that isolation hinders them socially, artistically, emotionally, politically, but like... i didn’t really like it. i didn’t hate it but i just felt very meh about it all. 2.5/5

acht tage im mai: die letzte woche des dritten reiches, volker ulrich fascinating history book about the last week(ish) of the third reich, starting with the day of hitler’s suicide and ending with the total surrender (but with plenty of flashbacks and forwards), and looking at military&political leadership (german and allied) as well as prisoners of war, forced laborers, concentration camp prisoners, and everyone else. very interesting look at what kästner described as the “gap between the not-anymore and the not-yet.” 3.5/5

firekeeper’s daughter, angeline boulley) i’ve been mostly off the YA train for the last few years, but this was a really good example of contemporary YA with a focus on ~social issues. ANYWAY. this is YA crime novel about daunis, a mixed-race unenrolled ojibwe girl close to finishing high school who is struggling with family problems, university plans, and feeling caught between her white and her native familiy when her best friend is shot in front of her and she decides to become a CI for an fbi investigation into meth production in the community. i really appreciated how hard this went both with the broader social issues (racism, addiction) and daunis’ personal struggles. there are a few bits that felt a bit didactic & on the nose (and the romance... oh well), but overall the themes of community, family, and the value of living indigenous culture are really well done & i teared up several times. 4/5

the magic toyshop, angela carter i love carter’s short stories but struggle with (while still liking) her novels so far. this one, a tale of melanie, suddenly orphaned after trying on her mother’s wedding dress in the garden, coming of age and awakening to womanhood or whatever. carter’s really into that. it’s well-written, sensual as carter always is, and the family melanie and her siblings are sent to, her tyrannical puppet-maker uncle, his mute wife and the wife’s two brothers, both fascinating and offputting (& dirty) make for an interesting cast of characters, but overall i just wish i was reading the bloody chamber again. 3/5

barchester towers, anthony trollope (chronicles of barsetshire #2) (audio) lol tbh i still don’t know why i am committing to this series about, again, church politics in 19th century rural england, but it’s just so chill & warm & funny (we love gently or not so gently - but always politely - mocking our characters) that i’m enjoying it as a nice little trip where people do some #crazyschemes to gain church positions or fight over whether there should be songs in church or whatever it is people in the 19th century fought about. it’s very relaxing. there also is a lot of love quadrangleyness going on and that’s also fun. trollope has weird ideas about women but like whatever, i for one wish mrs proudie much joy of her position as defacto bishop of barchester, she really girlbossed her way to the top. 3.5/5

semiosis, sue burke (semiosis #1) i love spinning the wheel on the “first contact with X weird alien species” & i guess this time we landed on plants! plant intelligence is interesting and the idea of plant warfare is really cool. i do like the structure, with different generations of human settlers on the planet pax providing a long-term view but this allows the author to skip over a lot of the development of the relationship between the settlers and the plant and locating the plot elsewhere, which i think is ultimately a mistake. i might continue w/ the series tho, depending on library availability. 2.5/5

one by one, ruth ware a bunch of start-up people go on a corporate retreat to a ski chalet in the alps, avalanche warning goes up, one of them disappears, presumably on a black piste, the rest get snowed in & completely cut off when the avalanche hits and then they get picked off *title drop* (altho really not that many of them). nice fluff when i had a miserable cold (not covid) but fails when it tries to go for deeper themes... like an attempt to address classism and entitlement sure... was made. also like what kind of luxury skiing chalet does not have emergency communication devices in case internet/phone lines are down...  i’d have sued just for that. 2/5

fake accounts, lauren oyler the microgenre of ‘alienated intellectual(ish) probably anglophone person has some sort of crisis, goes to berlin about it’ is my ultimate literary weakness - i almost never really like them, they mostly irritate me & yet i can never resist their siren call. this one is p strong on the irritation, altho at least the narrator does not ascribe much meaning to her decision to go to berlin after she a) discovers her boyf is an online conspiracy theorist (probably not sincerely) and b) gets a call that said boyf has died, it’s really just something to do to avoid doing anything else. but other than that it’s so BerlinExpat by the numbers, like she lives in kreuzkölln! put her somewhere else at least! there is one scene that elevates the BerlinExpat-ness of it all (narrator asks expatfriend for advice on visa applications, expatfriend assures her that it’s really easy for americans to get visa, adds “especially now” while literally, as the narrator remarks, gesturing at the falafel she’s eating) other than that, the novel is.... fine. it’s smart, but not really as smart as it thinks it is, which is a problem bc it thinks it’s just sooo incisive. whatever. 2/5

the tenant of wildfell hall, anne bronte this is reductive but: jane eyre: i could fix him // wuthering heights: i could make him worse // wildfell hall: lmao i’m gonna leave his ass anyway i enjoyed the part that is actually narrated by the titular tenant of wildfell hall, helen (which thankfully, i think, is most of it) because the perspective of a woman who runs away from her abusive alcoholic of a husband is genuinely interesting and engaging, while gilbert, the frame story narrator who falls in love with helen, is.... the worst. i mean he’s not the worst bc the abusive husband arthur is there and hard to beat in terms of worseness, but he’s pretty fucking bad. imagine if helen had found out that gilbert attacked her secret brother over a misunderstanding, severely injured him & LEFT HIM TO DIE & then (when dude survived & the misunderstanding got cleared up) apologised like well i guess i didn’t treat you quite right! she’d have to run away from her second husband as well! poor girl. 3/5

[ld14u]

diary

It’s way past time to start writing about this place and without the thick convoluted strappings of poetry...I’ve been in this hospital two months and I don;t know how to feel the truth of that once it’s been written down. It sort of just feels like anything else I might’ve done––when most people I know would balk at living like this in a sad, medicated hotel. I big old liminal space––isn’t everywhere liminal? If we are all just passing through? Bullshit questions like that get me in trouble here. I think I’m vitamin D deficient and lots of my hair falls out and get stuck, cemented to my hospital sheet. My friend is down the hall crying into her phone. She’s blonde and I wouldn’t have ever imagined having a friend who talks casually about leaving her cartier at home because she thought some of us twitches might be cleptos. I’ll forgive her. She reads a lot and loves economics and is a self proclaimed recovering coke-head. My room is a sort of periwinkle, its a color that is more oppressive than you’d think. Who is you? Who am I talking to? Is this in any way even the slightest bit organic? Are all diaries written with some theoretical audience in mind? Why do I think Im better than everyone? Why am I never enough? My room is “periwinkle” and the lights are harsh fluorescent boxes and there are multiple layers of mesh chicken wire type screens over my windows. The girl from Isreal moved out of my room and I can’t get up the nerve to ask for my vibrator. I’ll have to wait until a staffer friend of mine is on. Or maybe I can convince them that I use it to cleanse my face or zap the hair on my upper lip or something. Too bad I think that they've collectively discussed my possession of such a thing in a meeting. I haven’t been responding to letters since I got bak from the locked ward. An attempt is self injury with any intention to die---It doesn’t matter if fatality is a realistic consequence. 

Have I changed? I know I have...but am I me? I am scared of change and the loss it betrothed. I can recognize most footsteps in the hall-Can identify the staff bu their cadence and jingle of keys, like cowbells. 

Theres a line in an Anne Sexton poem about a prisoner being so poor that they fall in love with the prison. 

I wish I could simplify all of these selves into something cohesive, a pattern, a memoire, so I could make meaning of this mess. A curated mess? No? Maybe that’s all another way to minimize the way shit has turned out. I don't like that the movie version of Diary of a Teenage Girl left out the use of meth and tried to tie everything up neatly. It stripped it of some of the ubiquitous humanity. Is ubiquitous right? I want a type writer. Does this hospital provide a clean white background? Enough contrast for the pain to show up? How long have I been living with this secret death wish? Wrapping the blind chord around my neck, smoking meth in a bath tub in pacifica-waiting for the baby momma to get her rocks off in the next room. Maybe it was a performance, so i could rehash the show at a backyard barbecue in LA before my best friend’s 19th birthday. Right around the time I had started telling everyone I’d quit smoking weed. What does it mean for my future if I willingly get sober before I’m 21? Am I real? Am I real? STOP. What happened? Is it perverse to picture ones own funeral? A sort of masturbatory avoidance. I’m sure we all do it. It’s like a beer in the morning...A little dog hair never hurt anybody. 

Do I write for consumption or catharsis?I feel like Im in a constant of state of delirium. Is it rude not to acknowledge the woman that comes to check on me every 15 minutes? All she needs to know is that I am alive...not that I am sociable or polite––I don’t know. Maybe I’m too ADD to write in this style, kA stream of consciousness. I have so many doubts. Who is to say it won’t be like this forever? 

INCIPIENT-developing into a specified type or role (incipient lovers) 

INCIPIENT-foolish

The kids in this unit can’t stay away from that which is forbidden. Scratching their forearms up with a loose nail or plastic butterknife, an idea that may have never occurred to them before another girl showed up to interpersonal effectiveness group in a t-shirt sporting webs of purple scars on the soft skin below her leave. Once we are all back in the van the girls pull small carved animals and chocolates from under their shirts and compare prizes. The romance of each tiny insurection, even if it means a deeper enslavement_to what? Emotional instability and a lack of personal control/freedom? A prewritten role in a societal performance reserved for the troubled and misunderstood. It can't be healthy for people to grow up in this environment. I can't imagine what id be like if i had. I can't imagine boston in the summer. I can’t imagine a future for myself that doesn’t find me lost and clinging to the dregs of life. I hope I can outrun this self imposed prophecy. There are beautiful absurdities in the mundane-not that Im the first to see it but hopefully its enough. The tiny girl holding chopsticks in her chubby little hand, the men meeting for dinner, unsure if they should hug or shake hands--they end up patting each other quickly on the back as if burping a baby. The waitstaff at this restaurant yell a greeting in japanese as soon as a new patron walks in. Funny. Theres a man sitting eating ramen alone wearing beats headphones and a shirt that says He Hate Me. 

Sometimes I am uncomfortable with how earnest  sound–on the phone with my patents or talking to the night nurse as I exit the bathroom. I feel like it opposes everything else I might be seen as . Am I even gay? Straight? Ive been thinking lately. The word like a diagnosis; to mark a pattern of behavior that hasn’t held much integrity to begin with. 

An emotional retracting of a finger from a hot stove or testicles pulled pulled back into the body. DONT READ YOUR OWN WRITING DONT THINK ABOUT WHAT WAS SAID DURING SEX DONT SCRATCH YOUR SCALP IN PUBLIC DONT END THE CALL WITH I LOVE YOU DONT LET YOUR MOUTH DRY UP DONT DREAM ABOUT YOUR OWN DESTRUCTION DO IT. 

I’m not sure what to write except that I’m anxious and I’m jealous of everyone that is not. In this moment i find fault with every last offering I have. My body. That words that come out of it. The worst that don’t. Imagine believing I might be more. Than those things. My memories make me sick with shame_I watch to all from a one sided mirror. M; chatting with a bar tender about the oily chested italian flirt in the photo on the wall behind him, me; on all fours crawling towards the hot tub–my body exposed at right angles under bright pool night lights. My tongue feels thick and dull and vengeful. Ready to provide reprisal for some crime I can’t remember committing. I punish myself. I only write about feelings and hardly ever about goings on––maybe because story telling is too fraught a medium or maybe because that’s how I operate anyway. 

Something in me feels very un-transmutable...all the ways I ache and think inwards have no place being spoken aloud. Oh, how hard it its to live simply. To really focus on each moment t the next and not the space behind or in-between. How unattractive. It seems fated that I become wayward and aimless. But reality never suits anyone. Simplicity isn’t flattering. Im scared of myself; of my propensity to twist everything into a rose, into a glass of wine or whiskey or a piano. I feel as if this might be a blinding step back.

[openanonymity]

Mass Shooting Rant

I believe I have mentioned in the past about how I feel about the subject of guns in the United States- second amendment, accessibility, and control/laws. Last Thursday, I shared a post from a page I follow on Facebook. It was a quote from Twitter, that said “Maybe we should change the name school to uterus so Republicans would do something to stop children from dying inside them”. I thought this was a pretty solid quote. It covered two things which I strongly believe in- reproductive rights for women and gun control laws. Of course, that triggered one of my friends to ask why it’s a Republican issue. I went ahead and explained that Republicans primarily protect the second amendment right to bear arms, and heavily oppose any form of reproductive rights for women, especially the right to an abortion (in any situation imaginable). I then went on to say that most of the Republicans in office have been accepting funding from the NRA to keep them away from pushing gun laws. Whether or not I was right about the NRA reference, I felt it was fairly accurate, especially when we have seen several tweets pop up all over the place about Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio accepting 7-8 figure donations from the NRA. One friend commented in my defense, then several others. After that, two others started a thread defending the first commenter’s side. Then another friend of mine chimes in and we had a three against two debate for three or four days. Yesterday, the original commenter came back into the debate and started throwing insults at my friend who was explaining the need for stricter gun laws. I decided yesterday I was planning on unfriending and blocking the guy who started the insults. Today, I did that, deleted the post, and direct messaged my friend who was the target of the childish insults.

My belief is that when two sides of a debate keep it civil, it should continue, but once someone starts throwing insults at the other side, they have automatically lost their right to debate, and therefore forfeited the victory of said debate to the opponent. It’s just showing that resorting to insults means you have nothing meaningful left to say.

With that being said, I am not what some would say is a fully 100% opponent of the second amendment, but I believe there should be limitations to access to specific grades of firearms. I feel we should research how we, as a nation, have made solutions for other harmful products. Take, for example, the Chevrolet Corvair. It was a rear engine car which, if involved in a rear-end collision, could explode. Ralph Nader published an article in Consumer Reports about this (if I am correct), and with enough publicity gain, the car was removed from production. There was the issue with Tylenol in the 80s. Some found it harmful to children, so they created a childproof cap for the container. A terrorist attack in the mid 90s caused by a specific fertilizer as an ingredient in the explosives triggered shops to require really specific licensing to purchase the brand of said fertilizer. Due to the easily accessible ingredients in crystal meth, Sudafed and similar brands of the pill are locked away behind the counter and require an ID to purchase.

So, these products may still be accessible (exception of the Corvair), but you have to jump through some hoops to purchase them. How about we take a look at the weapon of choice in all the mass shootings. As I have noticed, it appears the AR-15 is the weapon of choice. Some say it’s a military grade weapon, like the M16.

So, here’s my suggestion. Let’s categorize all military-grade weapons, and everything available to consumer purchase that is semi-and fully-automatic, as military-grade weapons. Once they’re categorized as that, we restrict the access for purchasing these weapons to a select few stores/military recruitment/bases. With this restriction in place, the purchase of said weapons require a valid military ID. Purchased weapon can be reasonably priced, but there should be a hefty tax on the weapon. Bullets should be priced higher, taxed like tobacco is in states like NY, MA, or RI. There should be mandatory insurance and liability required to own such a weapon as well.

I understand the need to have a firearm for hunting such as a rifle or shotgun, or a handgun for self-defense, because I know the second amendment will never go away. This country isn’t mature enough to handle giving up that right just yet, even though the second amendment was written after we won the Revolutionary War, when the only guns available were rifles, muskets, and flintlock pistols (possibly others?). Semi and fully automatic guns didn’t come into existence until the late 19th to early 20th century, I believe.

[adastraradionews]

Court News - Drug, large hot check suspects appear

A Hutchinson man was ordered held this morning on a 12 thousand dollar bond after he allegedly pushed a woman during a disturbance late Monday afternoon and was later linked to distribution quantities of suspected meth. Andrew Martinez’ request for a bond reduction was denied by Reno County Magistrate Judge Dan Gilligan during his initial appearance. The person reporting the disturbance told officers Martinez left in a pickup with a toddler and with a backpack. When stopped by police at 4th and Waldron there was no backpack present... a backpack matching the description of what the reporting party saw was found by a citizen who turned it into police, and inside it was 14 grams of suspected meth along with drug paraphernalia. Martinez will be back in court March 19th, sooner if charges are filed before then.

A Wichita woman was read charges in four cases involving theft by deception and passing over six thousand dollars in worthless checks this morning in Reno County District Court. Rikki Caffrey is charged in four separate complaints. One complaint had one felony and three misdemeanor worthless check charges involving checks passed at four businesses in Yoder last August... one of the checks was for over one thousand dollars, which made it a felony. A second case involved theft by deception involving 190 dollars obtained from a man by false means in August, one involved a check written in November for over four thousand dollars to a South Hutchinson area furniture store... this also a felony... and one for nearly 900 dollars in mid-January. A waiver-status hearing for Cafferty on these four cases was set April 3rd. Following her appearance Cafferty was arrested on a newly filed check case, on which she posted a 2500 dollar bond and will probably make an appearance on next week.

Sgt. Tank, Hutchinson Police’s drug dog, got to go on a road trip to Haven Friday evening where he picked up on the smell of drugs in a vehicle stopped for a broken tag light that ultimately led to arrest of three people. Those three, Amy Rodriguez, Anthony Addison and Mario Ontiveros, made initial appearances in Reno County District Court Monday. Rodriguez initially gave officers the name and date of birth of her daughter and said her license was suspended. Eventually officers got to the truth of the matter... Rodriguez was driving as an habitual violator. In the vehicle was found a number of pipes with suspected meth residue. Once they got to jail, Rodriguez and Ontiveros said they didn’t have any drugs on their person... strip searches turned up suspected meth in Rodriguez’ bra and Ontiveros’ waist band, adding trafficking in contraband charges. All three are scheduled to be back in court March 19th.

.

[willswalkabout]

Buenos Aires

It's hard to know where to start with BA. Undoubtedly the most eventful 6 consecutive days of my trip. Some events I'll discuss in vaguer detail than I could, and maybe get in touch if you'd like to know more! I arrived late afternoon at Milhouse Hostel. It's a party hostel but with more heart than most. Every member of staff was awesome, and you really got to know them over the week. The way the nights worked, was that there was a party at the hostel, or its sister hostel across the street, until 2am. Once this rounded up you could buy discounted tickets to clubs. The first night was Saturday, and accordingly the biggest club of the week. The ticket we bought from the hostel included minibus travel there and queue jump. The only issue was that this used up all my cash, and that of 4 others. The club, with 4 rooms and an outside area was great, but we all realised our predicament at the same time as we came to leave. With no money and only one phone between us, there was pretty much no option but to walk the 5 miles back to the hostel. It meant that we left the club at 4:30am, not to get back until 7am. This should have been a forewarning for what was to come on the following nights. The next day was taken up almost entirely by my attendance at the Boca Juniors vs Union game. Going to a Boca game was on my bucket list, and it surpassed every possible expectation. Boca had won the title a week previous, so this was the crowning home coming party. The atmosphere started off lively, and then built to deafening noise from 20 minutes to go until the end. It's hard to explain what it was like to be in the middle of such a crowd, and I don't think I'll ever surpass such an experience. We had to be at the ground 4 hours in advance so we could get in with our technically illegal tickets. Boca run a strict members only policy which I respect, and I do feel slightly conflicted about being a football tourist, a trend at the Emirates that I loathe. There was partying in the streets late into the night, however not the streets your advised to go to as a tourist. I went to a club that evening with Andrew from Dallas, it wasn't great and so we left in search of a better bar. On the way to such bar I was somewhat attacked by a zombie looking meth-head (guess, I cannot confirm her condition). Luckily she only managed to rip my shirt apart, and steal about £25 worth from my pocket. A little shook up we ended the night at a local girl's 19th birthday party. The bar were very apologetic on behalf of the city, and gave me some antiseptic for the couple of deep scratches she'd managed to make with her nails. This was night one of an incredibly unlucky trilogy. The next day was pretty relaxed for the most part, just attending a tour of the Boca neighbourhood and Stadium with Museum, put on by the hostel. It is at this point that I'll introduce Roy de Booij, pronounced 'Roy de Boy'. This 6 foot 7 Dutchman was my partner in crime throughout my time in Buenos Aires, and one of the best people I have met on my trip. I do intend to visit him in Rotterdam at some point, and he has sold me very highly on Dutch lifestyle and cities. We went that night to an incredible steak restaurant with a friend he met in São Paulo. It was the best I have ever had by some distance. At some point pictures will follow on here. Our bromance was never stronger than this Monday night, as we won the hostel's beer pong tournament. We were the last pair standing from an original pool of 8. The fact we beat Americans on our way to immortality, a country where it is the national sport, made it even sweeter. We won hostel t'shirts as a result, with our names "Will and Grace" (Our team name, after the sit com), written on the back in permanent marker. After our victory we headed out to another club. This one was alright, though as we left (myself, Andrew, and a couple of other English guys), we soon realised we were being followed by 6 locals. Followed soon turned to chased. This was pretty exhilarating even if scary, and we lost them after a couple of blocks and got a cab back to the hostel, something we should have done in the first place. On Tuesday myself and Roy felt like we hadn't seen enough of the city, so took a stroll through town, followed by the nature park by the coast. This was after we'd been to the world famous Pizza Guerrin. In the Italian neighbourhood, the restaurant with an absolutely epic concoction of organised chaos, serving pizza by the huge slice. Mine was about 80% mozzarella, 10% tomato, and 10% base. It was unreal, and a must visit if in Buenos Aires. We walked back to the hostel via Galleria Pacifico, a high end shopping centre with a cathedral like mural on the ceiling. That evening was pretty uneventful for the most part, staying in the hostel. At the end of the night one of two Argentinian girls at the hostel had been somewhat abandoned, and didn't want to walk home alone. In retrospect and hindsight and all that great stuff, I should have considered my current run, and not helped out. The short of the story is that as we talked on the steps of her apartment we were encircled by 4 men, who requested her phone, and for an unknown reason....my shoes. Being left on the streets of Buenos Aires barefoot was not the greatest of situations, however I managed to get my hostel to order me a taxi. The bigger issue was that the whole saga caused me to miss my flight to Lima that was to depart at 6.30am that morning. So I stayed an extra two nights in BA, and booked a flight direct to Cusco for Friday, missing out Lima, of which little positive had been said. The next day I slept a lot, and made a visit to the police stadium to report the loss, so an insurance claim can be made hopefully for the missed flight and new shoes. I don't think the police quite knew why I was bothering with such a claim, and I did happen to turn up at the same time as left wing protest turned violent in the city centre. My last day involved visiting the current Pope's old digs, the cathedral, and buying some new shoes. It ended with one of the highlights of my trip. The circus/rave/party/dance show known as Fuerza Bruta. It was an incredible, and a frankly indescribable experience. It felt quite like Cirque de Soleil, but more intense and with audience participation. It was one of the most unique things I have seen on the trip, and again is not to be missed. That same night/morning I caught a 6am flight to Cusco, via Lima. I do look fondly on Buenos Aires, and there is still loads I would love to see that I couldn't manage this time. Yes, I could have been more streetwise at times, but my trip has been so incident free for the last 4+ months, that maybe I let my guard drop. It is a beautiful and lively city, and I am certain I will return. Tumblr has been playing up recently, when I try and add photos, so this will be a text only post, and I will try and add relevant photos from Chile and Argentina.

[ntrending]

The weirdest things we learned this week: Sheep on meth, hopping space robots, and the economy of “Frozen”

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/the-weirdest-things-we-learned-this-week-sheep-on-meth-hopping-space-robots-and-the-economy-of-frozen/

The weirdest things we learned this week: Sheep on meth, hopping space robots, and the economy of “Frozen”

What’s the weirdest thing you learned this week? Well, whatever it is, we promise you’ll have an even weirder answer if you listen to PopSci’s newest podcast. The Weirdest Thing I Learned This Week hits iTunes, Soundcloud, Stitcher, PocketCasts, and basically everywhere else you listen to podcasts every Wednesday morning. It’s your new favorite source for the strangest science-adjacent facts, figures, and Wikipedia spirals the editors of Popular Science can muster. If you like the stories in this post, we guarantee you’ll love the show. Check it out:

Fact: Ice was once a hot commodity

By Eleanor Cummins

In 2018, ice is everywhere. You can make it yourself by putting a tray of water into the freezer. Or you can find one of those special fridges with an in-unit ice machine and wait for the cold stuff to simply plop out into your cup. But ice used to be much, much harder to get your hands on—and in the era before A/C, it was desperately desired. That’s why, for much of the 19th century and into the 20th, ice was the cold, hard heart of an international economy called the “frozen water trade.”

How did it work? In New England and other northerly regions, ice would be cut up from frozen lakes or brought down from mountain peaks. It would be insulated (though 90 percent was still somehow lost) and transported by ship, and later, in some places, by ice, around the globe. Boom towns arose on the banks of frosty rivers, the hardy carvers besieged by frostbite and knee injuries. Ever wonder what those singing Swedes were doing in the opening sequence of Frozen? They were carving ice. In the dead of winter. (Probably to be shipped to India!)

Today, when an unchilled beverage is a rare offense and there’s so much ice to go around we can do YouTube-d dunk challenges, the frozen water industry has a twinge of ridiculousness. But for Frederic Tudor, the industry’s founder, the Ice King himself, the man who was (probably) the first to say, “Stop, collaborate, and listen, ice is back with my brand new invention,” it was the foundation a fortune.

Fact: These robots are hopping around an asteroid and sending pictures home

By Mary Beth Griggs

When I got to write about this amazing picture I was instantly charmed by its photographer: a hopping robot currently bouncing around on another world like a tiny, majestic mechanical bunny rabbit.

Rover 1B—and its twin, Rover 1B—are part of the Japanese Hayabusa-II mission. They’re currently leaping around on the surface of the crystal-shaped asteroid Ryugu taking pictures and temperature measurements. They’re autonomous, which means they decide where and when to jump. But why jump? It turns out that because the gravity on asteroids is so low, rolling wheels would just send rovers floating off into space. So instead, internal motors push the little Roomba-like bots into the area above the asteroid and send them gliding for 15 minutes, taking them about 50 feet from their last position.

This is especially exciting for Japan, which had a rover planned for its first asteroid-visiting mission, Hayabusa, back in 2005. Sadly, the rover was released from the spacecraft and tumbled off into space. (If you click on that link, the rover is circled in yellow, floating away).

The current mission to Ryugu is just getting started. A more-powerful lander was just released to the surface today and while it won’t hop around as much as the rovers, it will still be able to right itself on the asteroid surface.

Fact: Octopuses on MDMA are way better than sheep on meth

By Rachel Feltman

After editing an article about a truly delightful study about how octopuses act on ecstasy, I found myself wondering what other research on critters and recreational drugs I could dig up. I found one example that intrigued me and another that totally horrified me! We’ll start with the bad news: back in 2010, researchers (funded in part by Taser International) shocked a bunch of methamphetamine-addled sheep to show that tasers don’t pose life-threatening risks to human drug users. Some animal research is important, and some is arguably harmless (those octopuses, for example, just got very huggy and then went back to normal), but this study definitely made me squirm.

On a less disturbing note, I was excited to learn that those super-meme-able photos of spider webs made under the influence are actually exactly what the internet advertises them to be. But does a spider’s inability to weave a normal web while hopped up on caffeine mean that drinking coffee is bad for your workflow? Not exactly.

If you like The Weirdest Thing I Learned This Week, please subscribe, rate, and review us on iTunes. You can also join in the weirdness in our Facebook group and bedeck yourself in weirdo merchandise from our Threadless shop.

Written By Rachel Feltman, Mary Beth Griggs, Eleanor Cummins

[amplifyingsorrowful-blog]

After She Killed Him, It Killed Me

Written by: Diana D It has been twenty-six years since the murder, and I am now forty-two years old. The purpose of this essay is to allow the readers to explore the events and situations that lead up to why I eventually became a criminal. In February 19th, 1990, I assisted in the murder of Johnathon D, Curry. Due to section 21(1) of the Criminal Code, (a) aiding another person to committing a crime, made me liable to be convicted of murder, and in the fall of 91’ at just the age of seventeen, I was found guilty for second-degree manslaughter and was placed into an all females prison facility in Nebraska for 15 years. Whilst in prison, I maintained a psychology degree, which has led me to conclude that the actions and reasoning behind my criminal past are linked to three different theories, Psychological; Social theory, parent modelling and symbolic modelling, Sociological; my peer influences, and Classical theory; my rational thinking. Mother rarely left her room, for she always had a bottle attached to her hand. She was slowly getting weaker every day, and my sister and I could see that. I noticed I liked the feeling of vodka when one of mom’s “friends” offered it to me, before leading me into the next room. I was eight, and it only took me a few sips to feel numb, which later led me to unconsciousness. After seeing my own mother with the same bottle, almost every day, I convinced myself that it couldn’t be that bad, “That’s why mom drinks, she doesn’t feel anything!” I would tell myself. It was very easy for me to get drunk, all I had to do was open the fridge, it’s like I had a full mini bar to myself. At the age of ten I started drinking as if it was water, nearly every day. My teachers started noticing my physical change, “You look weaker” they would say. Parents at the school would notice my mother’s absence and talked; kids started to tease me, calling her a “Whore”, calling me a “Child of Satan”. I started acting out in school, falling asleep in classes and always had the intense feeling of anger burning inside of me. Under the Psychological Theories of Crime, Linden (2016) discusses that a significant component of Social Learning Theory is modelling (pg. 558), because individuals learn behaviours from observing and experiencing events. While Bandura (1986), from Lindens book, also supports that theory suggesting that aggressive behaviour can be learned through family, stating that children with “parents who respond aggressively to problems will tend to use similar tactics” (pg.258). One day a boy came up to me and started teasing me about mother, calling her cruder names. My body clenched, but I felt no tears come out. I quickly remembered back to a time when Mother jumped on this man’s face and scratched it bloody, to finally he then left and never came back. I closed my eyes, and within seconds, I felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me off of him. I saw his wounded, bloody, scratched face, smiled and thought to myself, “Now, he will finally leave me alone.” The earliest time I can vividly remember is when I was three years old. Every day I would come home from school and sit in front of the television for hours, and when my body wore out from no food, and exhaustion, I’d finally fall asleep next to my little sister. I didn’t have any friends, and I did not speak often, I liked being with just her and I. Mother never took us out, and we never got the chance to meet people other than Mother and her friends. I listened to Mother because that’s all I knew. I was a quiet child who always did what she was told, I would always smile even when I didn’t want to, Mother taught me that. Whenever I would disobey she would take the television away from us. We both depended on the television as a social outing and a gateway, we were quite attached to the feeling of being taken to another “realm”. Brumbaugh, C, Kothuri, Marci, Siefert, & Pfaff (2013) states that “Personality may modulate how an individual orient to television content as well as how one allocates attention to emotional stimuli.”(pg.6) The only thing I remember ever being played on the television was the news. Watching Bernard Shaw’s face every day at 4pm to 11 pm was the leisure of my days. I was exposed to daily news, such as thefts, murders, and natural disasters. Those were the imageries I fell asleep to, those were the images I saw closest to reality. Although there is no study that supports 100% that viewing violence on Television/Videogames are linked to aggressive behavior, Linden (2016) argues that it’s “possible that exposure to television violence increases one’s tolerance toward violence and decreases one’s sensitivity to acts of violence.” (pg. 259) The images became normal to me, the blurred out faces of dead bodies with the header “WE ARE AT WAR”, the disaster storms that destroyed homes, and mothers and fathers pleading for their young children to come back home. The tragedies of the world did not scare me anymore, I did not feel any strong emotions when looking at these images, I was desensitized, for it only motivated my undeveloped thoughts to push myself till I did feel something. From as early as I could remember, my mother always had a new “friend” come around. Some would stay for what felt like seconds, and some would stay for what felt like months. My sister and I tried our hardest to drown the noises out with the television. As I grew older, strange men stopped bringing me back into my room, my mother somehow forgot about my sister and I even more so, and continued when her “friends”. I was fourteen now, made a new group of friends, drinking every day, and wanted to see the world. Since I never had to fear of punishment for leaving, I would roam the streets at all hours of the day, and I felt powerful, drunk, high and free. Through Machon and Warner’s (2002) Study, they discovered that Widom (1989b) “found that abused or neglected children had higher rates of juvenile arrests” (pg.4) At fourteen, I was arrested for the first time, for public intoxication and breaking and entering. At the time I was fifteen, I could drink a full 26er of Vodka and was spending nearly every second high on meth. I hung out with local delinquents that offered and pressured me to do drugs and drink, and I loved it, I didn’t have to feel a thing. I had left my little sister, and left my mother and moved into one of my girlfriend’s house. The guilt of leaving my sister only made me want to numb myself more. My girlfriend, Sarah was the life of the party, and everyone always wanted to be around her. She was tall, thin, blonde with bright green eyes that could mesmerise anyone. I felt alive when I was around her, and we both built each other up in so many different ways. Sarah knew a lot of people, and always brought me around; I started being part of their group. We would wake up around 4 PM every day, drink, smoke, party and fall back asleep, Repeat. Sarah and her friends made everything look so fun. The way they stole cars, sped down the street and smash mail boxes, the way they seemed to always be happy. They never got caught, and they never appeared to really care. I wanted that. Using the Sociological Theories of Crime, Peer influence; I wanted to be just like them, “These peers provided the personal contacts and criminal opportunities that made ongoing criminality attractive.” (Linden, 2016, pg. 396) One day, after Sarah and I had stolen a couple bottles from the liquor store, both drunk and high, she drove her brother’s car home with me willingly in the passenger seat. We got pulled over a couple blocks down from the store. At the age of fifteen, I was arrested on theft and drug possession charges. At the age of 16, still haven’t matured, frontal cortex still being developed, I still felt as if jumping from couch to couch was fun and exciting. I didn’t see a downfall to life, that is, until I ran out of drugs. It was an extremely cold February day, and we both had realized that we were quickly running out of money for drugs and alcohol. Sarah and I started going through withdrawal, as we desperately broke into our old dealers’ houses’. Baron (2003) argues that self-control is one of the main causes of crime, and with the lack of it, can be linked to a range of behaviors and life outcomes. (pg2) I had always struggled with self-regulation, struggled with being antisocial and with all the drinking and drugs, my brain was deteriorating. We started fighting, physically harming each other and destroying the house till we found just the tiniest bit of meth. After we stuck the needle in our arms and fell asleep, I woke up to Sarah staring at me with bright eyes. Still noticeably high, she pulls my drained body off the couch and led me to the car, to where she hands me a 26er of Vodka. She knew it was my favourite. After a few moments she pulls up to a familiar door I hadn’t seen in a while, it was mothers house. She told me the plan of breaking in and stealing money, and I agreed. Supporting Classical Theories of Crime, Rationale Choice Theory, Hayward (2007) supports that “Rationale choice should recognize the potential impact psychopharmacological agents such as alcohol may play in the decision making” (para 18) I was high on meth, I was drunk off Vodka, and I felt as safe as could be. When we got in, we did not plan for Mothers friend to be there. Time felt like it had sped up, Sarah and the man were fighting, and as I looked to my right just in time to see my little sister’s frightened face, I heard a shot. Sarah had shot him. Now, time felt like it was getting slower, slower, and slower. I could hear the sirens of police cars coming from only a short few miles away. I could hear the scream of my mother, begging me to give her an explanation. I could hear my sister cry out and I could hear Sarah’s voice booming, telling me to “Leave, Run!”. At seventeen, I was found guilty for second-degree manslaughter. In February 19th, 1990, I assisted in the murder of Johnathon Donald Curry, and in the Fall of 91’ at the age of seventeen, I was found guilty for second-degree and sent to prison. Because of what happened to me as a child, the neglect, the abuse and the early exposure to death and crime I explored three theories, Psychological, Sociological and Classical theory. Psychological lead me to social theory and modelling. Sociological led me to view the peer influence theory, and under Classical theories; I reviewed my rational thinking. These experiences and events have all lead me to get the label of a Criminal. References: Baron, S. W. (2003). Self-control, social consequences, and criminal behavior: Street youth and the general theory of crime. Journal of Research in Crime and Delinquency, 40(4), 403-425. doi:10.1177/0022427803256071 Brumbaugh, C. C., Kothuri, R., Marci, C., Siefert, C., & Pfaff, D. D. (2013). Physiological correlates of the big 5: Autonomic responses to video presentations. Applied Psychophysiology and Biofeedback, 38(4), 293-301. doi:10.1007/s10484-013-9234-5 Hayward, K. (2007). Situational crime prevention and its discontents: Rational choice theory versus the ‘Culture of now’. Social Policy & Administration, 41(3), 232-250. doi:10.1111/j.1467-9515.2007.00550.x Linden, R. (2016). Criminology: A Canadian Perspective (8th ed.). Nelson Education Mcmahon, J., & Clay-Warner, J. (2002). Child abuse and future criminality: The role of social service placement, family disorganization, and gender. Journal of Interpersonal Violence,17(9), 1002-1019 Schreck, C. J., & Fisher, B. S. (2004). Specifying the influence of family and peers on violent victimization: Extending routine activities and lifestyles theories. Journal of Interpersonal Violence, 19(9), 1021-1041. doi:10.1177/0886260504268002