#michu talks

[michu-writes]

Ayo, you just got weezered!

[harryswinks]

10 years since swansea signed iconic one season wonder michu ✨

[jasontoddssuper]

Perlex is so funny.Lex is this tiny girl(and boy and nonbinary person)who dresses in pastels and plays video games in their free time and thinks boba is a better gift to man than anything the Gods have made and happy stims over dogs and when someone asks them why they love Percy,they say it's because he's so sweet and gentle and would never be cruel to them like almost everyone else they've met and like,yeah that's all very true,but then Percy's this 6' dude with a rbf who's always talking shit and is implied to be into rock music in canon and is tied with Hazel as the strongest demigod and does NOT hesitate to gaslit gatekeep girlboss his way into a win.And Lex is really into it😭Percy's off putting looks and autistic tendencies have bewitched them

@1clown1 @kyojurolover @leo-thecactus @michu-isaiah @moonage-gaydream @domeworshipper @chaoticcerise @theultimatesagavan @autismdino @percysupremeacy @desi-pluto @peachyblkdemonslayer @insomniac-jay @julieemarine @lisas-magic-bangs @sarasanddollar @million-golden-drachmas @genderconfusedhellenic @adorkfromnewyork @glxssyhexrts @nogender-onlystars @thingsenjoyer @girlbossbigbrother @hazycomet

[sftwinko]

i’ve had a lot of problems lately and i went to my doctor, he told me that my job is the reason why my sleep schedule has been so messed up and the nosebleeds that i had over this week and if i don’t change my job or just leave it it could give me serious health problems, even depression.

[hollyhomburg]

My responses on this chapter will be a little delayed! Assuming I feel this terrible tomorrow cuz I was an idiot and didn’t think my wisdom teeth where a big deal when they started hurting and now I can’t talk or swallow without it hurting 😭😭😭😭😭one side of my face looks so puffy it’s like I’m a little Michu

[spooky-cat-and-corgi-girl]

The Sailor Guardians on one of those teacup rides The Inners(Usagi, Rei, Minako and Ami): *talking and spinning slightly*

The Outers (Haruka, Michu, Setsuna and Hotaru) +Makoto: *Go flying past them, screaming*

Chibi-usa, Chibi-Chibi and Mamo: *concered staring from a teacup*

[okdnn]

Okada Nana and Murayama Yuiri Mail September 4 2020

Okada Nana Mail

September 4

Last night I think deeply

The meaning of “value”.

Every single person has their own version of  “natural”...

And once again I realized 

That what is natural to me

Is so blessed, how I should thankful of it,

And how warm my environment is…. ..

Lot of kind people

Has offer their love to me,

And I want to return it 

In a positive way hundred folds! 

Love repayment! Let’s do it !

Let’s do our best today. Fun friday〜 。

Nostalgic 3 musketeers lane

2nd gen Yoshida Sara chan.

After the concert yesterday, she talked to me!

She said she came to 3 musketeers’ HS events in the past! Lol

So happy 〜 … Thank you 〜 … 

She was AKB’s fan in the first place

And she know well various things

About AKB’s member and songs

So it’s really helpful for her work now right !

I want her to do her best to use that knowledge.

Also, it seems that she really like Yuiyui~

She’s also 18 y.o just like Yuiyui !

**kii

Ikeda Yura chan !

She said that she really like

My Nanakii performance…

When she said that,

Her expression and eyes are so bright!

It seems that she told me the truth. lol

So I told her

“Please do Yurakii someday ok!” lol

Performing Warukii with confidence

Is a hard thing to do …

Michu captain 

Michu who did her best 

As captain … !

She’s getting more beauty everytime I meet her,

“God doesn’t give with both hands”

Michu’s wit and beauty seems to have broken that saying.

Next time, we will go for a meal together! fufufu …

Love lemon and citrus 

I got Lemon Squash Ikaten.

So happy! Happy! Happy! 

I also got the Ponzu one which I like. 

I can’t decide between Umashio and ponzu …

But I chose this one ! so excited !

Autumn of appetite 

Today’s appetite 

Is very very big.

So I ate TKG, natto and Tofu.

It looks to be a low calorie

But it’s surprisingly high in calories … … … 

Also after that

I had chinese cabbage & meat hot pot …

Request 

We’re planning a video.

I’m happy if you can answer it if you have time!

THe deadline is Sept 10 19:00

You can use Filter apps

(as long as your original face can be recognized)

https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfhyNR9nyl70377S-vwwSjtBrBZG8Q1MvBzQJkkbNbpmGf8AQ/viewform

Please your support !

Murayama Yuiri Mail

Lucky Zukky

Hello！

Yesterday, I played Dobon

With all my family

We pushed play button

While saying “one~two!” together

To see how many of us can play together

We did it a lot！ 

I can’t decide which member

To put on my deck

And I can’t decide on one oshimen too… 

The other day, I pulled Zukki’s rare card

On the gachaー！

[idiotthewise]

After I spend an hour listening to Michu Kaku talking quantum entaglement.

😬🤯🥴

[michu-writes]

You have no idea how angry and dissapointed I get whenever I see any Jonah x Adam, Mark x Cesar and sexualised fan works of mandela catalogue. Alex Kister has stated multiple times he is not comfortable with it, and shipping the characters just ruins the narrative purposes.

Sure, maybe some people might’ve not known this, but please just respect the creators boundaries ! This isn’t only for Alex Kister’s sake, but also for any other fandoms and creators.

[harryswinks]

got distracted from what i was actually looking for (a lloris 16/17 shirt) and have stumbled across a michu shirt and i need talking out of buying me

[jasontoddssuper]

Percy is autistic.His rsd is really bad,his favorite stims are pacing and flappy hands,his biggest comfort items are the Blue,Mangenta and Green Puppy plushies Sally bought him after she killed Gabe,they used to be embarrased about doing raptor hands but Hazel and Reyna-who are also autistic-helped them realize they're's nothing wrong with them,their special interests are the color blue,Miffy and video games and they had a hard time understanding gender until they talked to Alex about it and realized he's bigender and wants to use he/they pronouns

@1clown1 @autisticwithagun @michu-isaiah @genderconfusedhellenic @peachyblkdemonslayer

[thempoetry]

“There Are More Beautiful Things Than Beyoncé” by Morgan Parker

This book had been years coming in my collection. Its name rang out inside me when I felt its titular sentiment — that the popular worship of Beyoncé is overblown — and whenever I thought of it, I felt a spark of solidarity.

Of course, this is not a book about Beyoncé — and in fact, this is not even a book that is very critical of Beyoncé. Instead, Beyoncé acts as a literary device throughout — a mouthpiece, an amulet, a proto-idea that shapeshifts to meet Parker’s endless need to talk, sing and moan about race, class, democracy, depression, music and drugs. It’s a brilliant move.

I’d like to start more broadly by commenting on Morgan Parker, because she strikes me as an outsider among insiders. In my head, Parker is of the generation of contemporary poets that includes Danez Smith, Franny Choi, Ocean Vuong etc. … she’s decorated with a Pushcart, she co-curates a reading series, she performs with Angel Nafis as part of The Other Black Girl Collective. Her poetic career is bedazzlingly active — so why don’t we talk about her more?

By which I mean: there seems to be a kind of halo around young poets like Ocean Vuong, who — and I say this with admittedly limited experience of his work — turn the harrowing vine-tangle of identity into a kind of rhapsodic experience: a thing worth looking at because it is beautiful. (Here is an example, from Vuong’s “Tell Me Something Good”:

Snow on your lips like a salted

cut, you leap between your deaths, black as a god’s periods. Your arms cleaving little wounds

in the wind. You are something made… )

There’s no arguing that Vuong’s poem is beautiful; my issue is with how the beauty is used. Vuong’s poem here seems an extension of the (frankly depressing and oppressive) idea that “foreigners” can make their stories worthy through pathos, pity and craft — i.e., hard work and relatability. If the sentiment sounds familiar, just tune into the way mainstream conservatives these days talk about immigrants: I don’t have a problem with immigrants writ large, I just prefer immigrants who work hard, keep their heads down, are pleasant to my children, are generally agreeable…

Anyway, it’s not fair for me to pass such a blanket judgement over Ocean Vuong’s work, and that’s for another review. But insofar as Morgan Parker is concerned, she parses the work and space of otherness in an entirely different manner. Similar to Claudia Rankine of Don’t Let Me Be Lonely, her argument is this: I won’t “fix” myself for you. I won’t try to make myself beautiful. I will tell the (magical, insatiable) truth as it is, and you will have to try to keep up. Because I am too tired to bow down, to construct something for you, to micro-manage. Parker’s poems are for haters of micro-management; they offer big gestures in small bottles.

Consider the opening lines of the opening poem, “All They Want Is My Money My Pussy My Blood”:

I am free with the following conditions.

Give it up gimme gimme.

Okay so I’m Black in America right and I walk into a bar.

With this bold opening, Parker’s commitments are clear: she will demand things of the reader (“give it up gimme gimme”) and she will clearly demarcate what commands her attention and respect (“I’m Black in America right”). And with this begins what I can only describe as a chimeric collection, more warm-blooded fantasy animal than diorama; more occult message written in glitter than typeset monolith. She scrounges from jazz, RnB and pop to fill her pauses. She is unrelentingly new instead of subtle. I like it:

I am a dreamer with empty hands and I like the chill. I will not be attending the party tonight, because I am microwaving multiple Lean Cuisines and watching Wife Swap… (“Another Another Autumn in New York”)

—and the sincerity of her materials shine through. (To continue this silly dogfight I’ve set up, compare the above with Vuong: “Air of whiskey and crushed / Oreos.” Parker’s allusion to pop culture delights; Vuong’s seems like an add-on, a sprinkling of something inappropriate on top).

But wherefore is the source of all this magic? I would say in what Sun Ra called “liquidity.” For example: Parker was best when R and I read her aloud on a grassy slope on Belle Isle in Detroit. There we were, in a historically Black city, in what I can only describe as a “public paradise.” Ducks waddled by and folks of all stripes strolled in front of us beside a small man-made lake. As we read Parker aloud, we laughed with her and from within her work — as though her words gave us the ability to access our inner performers, delivering punchlines (“I don’t know / when I got so punk rock”) and casting personal spells (“I breathe / dried honeysuckle / and hope”). We felt for her. And we wanted to continue feeling for her. All things told I had a moment of genuine orality with her work — a glimpse of what poetry must have felt like when it was shared, sung and social by default. This is a book that radiates the energy of the collective, that asks you to recognize it — and does not over-demonstrate.

So, in this false dichotomy, one might pose:

LIQUIDITY: ORALITY, SOCIALITY, LONG STANZAS SHORT LINES

against

SOLIDITY: WRITTEN, INWARDNESS, SMALL FORMAL STANZAS LONG LINES

In the former, you have the world of most popular songs, particularly jazz; in the latter, you have sculpture and “high art.” Perhaps this is why Ocean Vuong’s work has garnered him endless praise and attention, and most of us look askance at Morgan Parker’s messiness, silliness and genuine emotional bravery. She rambles, yes, but her rambling challenges the very idea of boundaries — of “discipline” as a set of limits, of borders we set for ourselves, however beautiful.

Finally, I will say this, as it’s becoming a theme in my reviews. Parker’s poetry feels affectively liberated. She is funny as well as ashamed. Take, for instance, this amazing section of “RoboBeyoncé”:

The reason I was built is to outlast some terribly feminine sickness that is delivered to the blood through kale salad and pity and men with straight-haired girlfriends […] Nothing aches in here It’s a quiet, calculated shame

Part of the power in these lines is the fact that despite the sprawling, messy energy of Parker’s poems, formally they are incredibly demanding due to their short lines. Parker does not give herself the liberty of overusing the form that has, frankly, become a meme among young poets — the poem composed of long couplets, like Vuong’s poem above — and instead prefers her poems one long connective muscle. The result is propulsive and exciting, like watching a figure skater do tight turns on the ice. She is insightful but also — I dare say it — entertaining. But in the wry, dark way that comedians have that communicates, “Look, I don’t care if you don’t like me. Most of the time, I don’t like me either.”

Which is not to say that Parker’s work is perfect — like the aforementioned figure skater, she does often fall short of her ambitions and can write poems that don’t hold together — often using the couplet form above. I think her work is best when it acknowledges its liquid merits, and doesn’t try to stand with too much air around it.

Overall: 9/10 for sheer spillage of fantasy radioactive plasma

Read If You: -Think it’s lame that Beyoncé talks so much about her “rock” -Miss the energy of cities like Detroit -Have friends you want to read with and you are all getting tired of the bone-dry landscape of contemporary poetry which is really just about “passing” politics and making pain beautiful and omg what if pain is NOT beautiful what if it is just pain motherfuckers what if leaving the party is political too goddamn

Further Reading

Don’t Let Me Be Lonely by Claudia Rankine -- deep classic, prepared the soil for Parker

BONUS: Things To Do In Life That Are Not Poetry

Inspired by Morgan Parker, try:

1. Starting a flashy project then abandoning it on purpose 2. Making a cocktail after a song by a Black American musician 3. Getting in a tub of ice cold water and listening to Kendrick Lamar’s DAMN. while doing one’s nails without shivering

Feverish and anything but lonely, Michu

P.S. A last thought while in the shower. Morgan Parker’s poetry is relentlessly self-aware. But I think what we mean when we say “self-aware” is actually not “being aware of the self” but “being aware of everything but the self” -- i.e. seeing one’s pronouncements as part of a larger (in Parker’s case historical) context. When Parker sits down to multiple Lean Cuisines and Wife Swap, the irony she projects comes from a deep rootedness in the idea that this is a thing that people do: skip parties to self-indulge in everyday, consumerist ways that our higher selves disapprove of. It’s not that her sentiment or self-report is inauthentic, but rather that it is aromantic -- it doesn’t presume that her experience hits on some prized singularness about being human. And I like that; I find it smart and honest at the same time, which is a rare combination -- not just in poets, but in people. 

[sftwinko]

i’m sad

[footballconfessions]

(...) Raiola says that Bayern can be a club in which Haaland can play and yet he never said he is putting pressure on me, so how do you have the nerve and try to make the Bvb board the bad guy here? if he is telling people that he will leave so they can talk about it on the media (this is about michu and one of his friends) then why dont you tell Watzke that you plan to leave? Easy. But no, he decided to make an interview so the whole world talks about it instead of going to his office(..)

.

[sittingoverheredreaming]

Quick light HaruMichi fluff piece, 700 words

———————————-

Michiru’s mother had always been a hard woman, and over the years Michiru had watched that stiffness become literal. The slow progression of stony maintenance, chiseling away each flaw as it manifested so that she might become a statue of the woman Michiru saw in her parent’s wedding photos. When she had last seen her mother, she could not raise her eyebrows again yet, and she asked if Michiru had considered starting ‘getting work.’

She’d been appalled at the suggestion, she’d always promised herself she would be different from her parents in so many ways, bult as she leaned into the mirror now…

Michiru had thought it would happen so much later. But the lines around her eyes extended like a dozen little liner wings, and creases on her forehead would not dissipate no matter how she relaxed the muscles beneath them. The bones of her shoulders, elbows, knees, the lines of her neck, they had all grown more pronounced, seemingly overnight.

She opened her phone to look through pictures. When had it began? Wasn’t she still so young? Her mother hadn’t… but how was she to know when things began for her mother? She was nearing sixty, and Michiru had never seen as much as a gray hair appear unchecked. Perhaps she had the right of it. It was the only way, surely, turn to stone to bear the weight of age. Michiru would have to make some calls, and then—

“Michi?”

She straightened, smoothed her dress, fixed her hair. “Yes?”

“You’re taking awhile, the show…”

“Oh, yes.” Michiru looked in the mirror again. She had not even begun her makeup, and she needed it now more than ever. “Perhaps you could go ahead of me, I’m going a bit slow today.”

“I’m not going without you.” Haruka cracked the bathroom door. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, love.” She grabbed her foundation and unscrewed the cap in a hurry. “I merely got distracted.”

“Michiru.” She opened the door further and stepped inside. “I know you. You can talk to me.”

It wasn’t fair—Haruka was every bit as handsome as the day they’d met, while she... while she…

Michiru faced her reflection. “I’m old.”

Haruka’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“I’m old.”

Haruka laughed, though not unkindly.  “If we’re old now, we’re gonna be ancient in a few years.”

“I will. You’ll be fine.”

“What?” Another laugh, this time with the slightest edge. “I look older than you.”

Michiru could not find the words respond. Haruka stuck her face in the mirror beside her.

“Soon I won’t even be able to call myself blonde.” She gave her hair a good-natured shake. “And Mina likes to say I’ve begun the slow morph from butch noodle to ravioli.”

Michiru met her eyes in the mirror. It was all true, in a strict sense, and yet...

“But it’s handsome on you. You look just as good, better even, than before. And I...”

“You’re beautiful, Michu.” Haruka took her gently by the shoulders and turned her so they faced each other. “You’re the most beautiful woman to ever live.” She smiled sheepishly. “I kinda like see you get older. For a long time I thought I wouldn’t get to.”

“Oh, Haruka.”

“I know, I know, but really.” She stroked her face with her thumb. “I wouldn’t want you looking younger. This is where we are now, and I like it.”

“You don’t think...” Michiru glanced back to the mirror. “You wouldn’t have me get anything?”

“God no.” Haruka kissed her on the forehead. “You’re perfect, Michu. And you won’t ever not be.”

“You’re very sweet,” she said, but she felt her spirits lift. “I’m sorry I’ve made us so late.”

“It’s okay, I was gonna sleep through most the show anyway. I’m so old, you know, I can’t stay awake anymore.”

Michiru laughed. “You’ve been old a very long time then.”

“I suppose I have.” Haruka grinned. “Though you know, if you’re worried about being late, we could go now. You’re more than beautiful enough already...”

“I’m going to put on my makeup, Haruka.”

“I figured as much, but it was worth a try. Someday you’ll believe me on that front, too.”

She kissed Michiru’s cheek and let her be. Michiru selected a lipstick with a lightness in her heart, a feeling that could never turn to stone.