#should i name her levina?

[tmntphantom]

i want to start explaining the lore but i don't think i have the energy to organize my thoughts on that anytime soon and i kind of want to be mysterious idk....

anyway i made a height chart that may change

mikey is a pink bellied side neck turtle, leo is a japanese pond turtle, raph is a red cheeked mud turtle, and donnie is an oblong turtle

[therrerium-valkryonia]

Magician's Mistake

There was a magical female in a very isolated area it was lonely but filled with beauty, flowers that shine even in the night, magical giant eagles peotecting this land from the evils of darkness and heavenly spirits made of the Aurora Borealis coming down at day and night as being the lonely heavily pregnant beautiful double colored eye'd powerful magical woman having eyes of diamond and obsidian, silver hair, luscious plump red lips, hourglass fit body having round wide hips and big round breasts her name was Levina and as being the lonely pregnant lesbo that she is, not knowing how she got pregnant being a protector of this place of these animals, plants and grounds but on this day the very day she would unknowingly give birth to her very first child and she knew it was a beautiful, gorgeus, lovely girl being the immortal mother that is Levina she wishes her daughter a good great amazing life not knowing it will be very, very soon.

Levina was walking down the flower path and finding a glowing crystal cave, she enters the magical cave and it opens up to a bright large cave system full of many colored crystals and Levina was stunned carefully travesing the cave, she got distracted by the ceiling crystals and she slips and falls right on her side, loudly grunting in a large bruising pain. "OOoooh, Wow I should have been looking and OW that really fucking hurt, me with my dumbass got me and unborn child a really bad fall." Climbing very carefully and vigilantly up the cave, Levina gets back out into the fields of flowers and starts walking through the very thick bioluminesent green forest and travesing down this forest and holding the bottom of her big round belly, she finds a not very deep clear lake that shines and wanting to take a dive she slowly walks to the lake and strips down to take a swim and swimming through the lake and floating on her back, holding her belly from the sides a strong contraction and tries to hold her belly, flips over and in under the water, she rises out of the water and struggles to swim to shore but she gets there and climbs out of the water hand on belly eventually sitting down and holding her left side of the belly while the right hand on the dirt as she gasps in shock trying to calm down, she looks down at her belly "It's only been 10 minutes! Since the last one, why?" Then a sudden realization hits her "Oh, Shit! Why contractions are getting closer?" She reaches for her towel and dries her self up and she gravs her clothes and gets dressed, dusting off the dirt on her clothes, walking home, hands encircling her belly and as she gets to the flower fields, she slightly bends over as strong contractions hits her, groaning and taking a deep exhale, she continues through as the her burning surge of contractions get closer and stronger walking towards the beautiful house that Levina lives in as lonely as it is.

The golden road to Levina's house is very long but she still walks along the protected path and as she walks over to the house, She casts a spell to close the gap between her and the house and after the spell is cast she encircles her hand on her belly and bends over in reponse to a strong contraction that is averaging around 5 minutes, "GAAAH, HooOH, OOow, Come on, no need to be that fucking painful, ya know!" She swings her hair and holds the bottom of her belly as she walks towards her mostly house and finally she enters the mostly modern pearl house that is beautiful she sits on the couch and naps on her back, hands encircling and when she wakes up, she stand ups and takes a big stretch at 8:00 AM as Levina usuallly wakes up at 4:00 AM and she gets in her bathroom, strips down into the bath tub fills it up and washes herself, after 3 minutes she get out of the bathtub and dries herself.

She enters into her changing room shuffling between all her tight clothes and she finds a fitted tight black maxi dress with large side slits on the side of the skirt and a hood she excitedly wore the tight fitted outfit and was happy with how it turned it out, she wore fitted thigh high black socks and black boots with treads she walks out the door holding her belly and the other holding the rail walking down the steps and as she reaches the bottom and holding her belly like a circle she runs of in to the wilderness her coat flowing in the wind but she suddenly stops and falls to her knee, grunting as a strong contraction hits her hard and holding her belly like a ball "Woah, Ow no need for that, jeez." Levina walks to the place she went as a child the floating lights of the "Flumen Puerperii" in Latin or "The River of Childbirth" being the place where many pregnant women give birth to their kids and Levina not very intrested in the area leaves and walks to her favorite nearby the river place called "Ager Magicus" or "The Field of Magic" and as the hooded Levina walks in to the fields full of wonders then the feeling of her baby sliding and going through her cervix and a contraction makes Levina hold the bottom of the belly and bend over in an annoying pain and unknowingly her vagina fully dilates, placing a hand on her back and the bottom of her belly she walks towards a slope of land and oversees a beautiful grove of various glowing flowers and lights as she gets off the slope and down in to the glowing grove looking for a place to sit, she finds a empty patch in the grove and takes a seat against the rock wall watching the lights float and the wisps fly with birds and animals coming by here for 15 minutes and after that whole session she stands up and walks out the grove walking home as it's 8:00 PM but she finds herself lost in the bioluminesent forest glowing bright, Levina traveses the forest and through the ferns, cycads, bushes, braches and thorns she slips and falls on a redwood tree root and lands in her belly thoroughly breaking her water now rolling over holding her belly, "Ow! Fuck I am so sorry baby, your okay Ooow, oof!." Constant contractions hit the Magical girl as she casts a spell with her right hand to remove her undergarments like her bra and underwear as the other hand is on top of her belly, not feeling much pain as she is very used to pain she still sits against the tree, widens her legs and takes a deep breath aaand does a big push, popping out the head and neck immediately, Levina taking fast deep breaths gets hit with a contraction and bears down with a even bigger push now screaming, "OKAY!!! NOW IS REALLY THE TIME TO COME OOOUUTTT, BABY!!!" Then *Plop* goes the baby she cast a teleport spell for the baby onto her chest as she wouldn't do it to travel home as it long distance knocks you out or death so the new mother magical Levina smiles and says "Wow, you are even more beautiful than your own mother you know....... Alicia, your beautiful, I love you sweetheart." and there the ending not much magic was there she uses it when necessary.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

365

Season Two Premier 

Dean Winchester x Reader

Words: 2385

Masterlist 

Summary: At peace with her family, Amara gives Dean a reunion he was never expecting. But Mary isn't the only one she brought back. Now two women must adjust to being in the land of the living, one having been gone for 33 years, and the other having spent the past 365 in hell. 

Notes: I told you I had something planned! Let me know if you’ve missed this series and if you're happy to see more. Responses mean the world. 

-

Amara looked at each picture curiously. She saw Dean as a young boy, smiling brightly in the arms of his mother. The woman that started it all. Her death put him on this course. This painful, dark journey. Amara set the picture aside, noticing something shine from the back of the drawer. 

She took out a small tin box. Inside were more photographs. Amara examined one in particular. It was Dean leaning over the hood of his car. Around his waist were the arms of a laughing woman. He had a glint in his eyes that Amara hadn’t seen. It was then that she understood. Dean would never be with her. He could never join her in her new world. His heart was far, far away. Perhaps she could bring it back to him. 

-

Mary couldn’t get her out of her head. That woman. Who was she? She had looked at her… like she knew her. 

“You okay, mom?” Sam asked, noticing the far off look in her eyes. She had been acting strange, but that was, of course, understandable. She just came back from the dead, for Chuck’s sake. She gave her youngest a small smile. 

“Yeah, I’m just daydreaming, I guess.” She glanced around the kitchen, noticing an absence. “Where’s Dean?” 

“He’s probably going to spend the day in his room.” Sam sighed deeply. “Today is a sort of anniversary for him.” 

“Anniversary? For what?” From the look on her son’s face, it couldn’t be good. Sam sat down and motioned for her to join him. 

“A few years ago- three, to be exact- we lost someone. Dean lost someone.” He clasped his hands together on the table. The wound of losing one of his closest friends had healed some, but it still stung. Especially today. “He loved her. And she loved him. Maybe too much.” He shook his head. It felt like so long ago. 

“Dean found someone?” Mary smiled slightly. She had hoped her boys had been loved by someone, since she wasn’t there. Sam nodded. 

“Yeah, yeah he did.” He tried not to get choked up, but remembering still pained his heart. And for Dean… After losing Jessica, Sam wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone. His brother had shouldered it for the past three years, accepting little to no help. He never even talked about her. 

“What happened?” Mary asked softly. Sam opened his mouth to answer, but he didn’t get the chance. 

“She died.” Dean said, having appeared in the doorway without them noticing. He crossed the kitchen and poured himself some coffee before joining them at the table. “Three years ago today.” 

Mary didn’t know what to say. She had more questions, but it didn’t seem like the time to ask them. Sam and Dean both looked… broken. All she could do was offer some kind of comfort. She put a hand on top of each of theirs. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Dean looked into her eyes and she looked into his. They weren’t the same eyes of her bright little boy. They held so much pain, so much loss. She had to tear her gaze away. 

She had only been back for about a week and everything was so overwhelming. She should have been there for them. She should have made sure that they never had to feel this pain. She never wanted them to be hunters. She just wanted them to be boys. 

Dean finished his coffee and retreated to his room. Sam looked like he wanted to say something, but he just sat in uncomfortable silence. Mary’s heart ached. She just wanted them to be boys. 

-

He should be used to losing people by now. In three years, he should have gotten over it. Losing you. But even now, the image of your last smile as the hell hound tore away your flesh was burned into his brain. He would never forget. He opened the drawer of his desk and found the small tin box. 

A quiet knock caught his attention and he turned to see his mother in his doorway. She gave him a small smile. 

“Can I come in?” He nodded in reply and she sat on the edge of his bed. For a moment, she didn’t have the courage to say anything. How would he react? Would he get upset and make her leave? Or would he close up and not say a word? Maybe, hopefully, he would talk to her. He could make her forget how much she had missed. “Can you…” She paused, waiting for a sign to continue. Dean looked at her expectantly. “Can you tell me about her? I know you probably don’t want to talk about her, I just-”

“It’s okay.” He sighed, putting a hand on top of the box on the desk. “Sam’s always saying that if I talk about her, it keeps her alive in a weird, hippy sense of the word.” He shook his head to himself. Mary watched him carefully, making sure she didn’t push any boundaries. 

“What was she like?” Dean thought for a moment. 

“Stubborn.” He chuckled deeply. “If she thought she was right, you’d never get her to budge and she always thought she was right. God, the fights we used to get into…” He paused, recalling a few in particular. “She had a big heart and wasn’t afraid to show it. She was tough and smart and funny and beautiful. Best damn pool hustler I’ve ever seen. That’s actually how we met.” 

Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand over his face, trying to hold back tears. 

“How long were you together?” Mary wondered. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was staring off into memories. 

“Four years.” He answered quietly. “She- uh- she was there for me when Sam…” This was more than he was ready to talk about with her. How was he supposed to tell his mother that her sons have been to hell? How did he tell her that Y/N was there because of him? He forced his shoulders back and sat up straighter. “Anyway, um, this-” He passed Mary the box of photos. “This is her.” 

Mary opened the tin slowly, peering down at the photographs with a sad curiosity. As she looked through them, her expression changed. She selected one that gave her a clear view of the woman’s face. She was smiling, a beer in hand and a bright glint in her eyes. Dean was beside her, staring at the woman like she was the only thing in the world. Mary’s eyes widened and Dean noticed her body language shift. 

“What is it?” 

“Dean I…” Mary was hesitant, but she knew without a doubt that she was right. “I’ve seen her before.” Dean’s brows knitted together. 

“What?”

“I know this girl.” 

“Mom, that-” Dean sighed, “That isn’t possible. You died before Y/N was three.” Mary handed him the picture. 

“I saw her, Dean.” She insisted. 

The two stared at each other. Mother and son. Dean broke his gaze first. 

“I think Sam needs help in the library.” He said, his voice becoming flat and emotionless. “Please go.” 

“Dean-”

“Mom.” He stared at the wall, his command firm. “Please, just… I need some time alone.” 

Mary didn’t say anything else. She put the pictures back in the box and tried to hand it back to him. When he didn’t make any move to take it, she set in on the desk and left. 

Dean resisted the urge to throw the box across the room. The metal was already dented and battered from other fits throughout the years. Dean just kept his eyes trained on the ground, wrapping his head around his mother’s words. She was wrong. It couldn’t have been Y/N. It just couldn’t. 

-

One Week Ago

“Mary?” You gasped, gaping at the woman across from you. Everything was dark, clouds of black surrounding you from every angle. Through the darkness, you could see a woman you only knew from pictures. A woman that had been dead for over 30 years, or at least she was when you were still on earth. You were surprised you still remembered. 

“Who are you? Where am I?” She asked, eyes wide with uncertain panic. Before you could answer, you felt something pulling you further into the darkness, yanking Mary back in the other direction. 

When you opened your eyes, you were staring at the sky. The real sky. The night sky stretched out, stars shining brightly down at you. So bright you had to shield your eyes. Your skin pricked with every movement. You were cold. You were naked and you were cold. 

You stood slowly, your legs barely able to hold yourself up. The night air sent goosebumps up your bare arms and legs. The dead grass crunched under your feet and you took a deep breath. 

“Very funny, Levina.” You called into the night. This wasn’t the first time the demon had tried to trick you, made you believe that you were free only to pull you back into your torment. “You must be running out of ideas.” You crossed your arms over your chest to try and stay warm. There was no answer. “Levina!” 

“You aren’t in hell anymore.” A voice startled you. You whirled around to see a woman in a black dress looking at you curiously. “Surely, you can tell the difference.” 

“Who are you? What do you want?” You took a defensive stance, backing away as she stepped forward. 

“I’m the one that lifted you from your torment.” She said it like it was obvious. “You’re free now.” 

“You think I’m going to fall for that again?” You scoffed. “You must be getting a little rusty, Lavina. Have to say, I like this face more than the old one.” 

“My name is Amara. We have a friend in common.” 

“Let me guess; Lucifer? Well tell the dark lord if he’s up for round two, I can handle-”

“Dean Winchester.” She interrupted, making you shut up. “He misses you. I want to give you back to him.” 

“Why the hell should I believe you?” You growled. “Dean doesn’t even remember me.” 

“You’re wrong.” She shook her head. This time, when she stepped towards you, you let her. “I can’t erase what they did to you in hell, but I can assure you that you are no longer in their grasp. Find Dean.” With that, she just vanished. Poof. Gone. 

You didn’t have many options, so you just walked. You found a road and mindlessly walked beside it. Every step ached. You had numbed yourself for so long that every gust of wind felt like a thousand tiny needles stabbing your flesh. You weren’t sure if you were capable of feeling anything else. Only pain. 

Headlights drew closer and closer, quickly joined by flashing blues and reds. You didn’t stop walking even when you heard the car door open and close. 

“Ma’am are you alright?” The police officer’s voice cut through the night, but you barely heard it. Your ears just kept ringing with the sound of your own screams. You stopped and turned around. The woman was approaching you slowly with a look of sympathetic concern. Being naked and wide-eyed, it wasn’t hard to read her thoughts. But she had no idea the depth of violation you’d been through. You took a heaving breath. 

“I need to find Dean Winchester.” 

-

Now

“Dean!” Sam called, knocking on his older brother’s bedroom door. “Dean, we need to talk.” 

“Sam, not now.” Dean groaned, opening the door just enough to give him a glare. “I really don’t want to talk or deal with any of your other hippy healing crap.” 

“It’s Jody.” Sam pushed inside without giving him time to object. “She said she needs us in Sioux Falls right away.”

“Did she say why?” 

“No, but she sounded pretty freaked. Apparently, she’s been trying to get a hold of us for a while, but things kept coming up or we weren’t answering.” Sam sighed, running his fingers through his hair. 

“To be fair, our mom came back from the dead and you were being tortured by that British bitch.” Dean countered, feeling guilty for ignoring Jody’s calls. “What did you tell her?” 

“That we’ll be there before morning.” 

Dean nodded in agreement. 

“I’ll pack a bag, you tell mom we’re leaving.” 

“I think she should stay here.” Sam suggested, keeping his voice down like it was a secret. Dean gave him a strange look. 

“What? Why?”

“She needs to adjust, Dean. Maybe giving her just a few days to herself here in the bunker will help her do that. Besides, we don’t know what’s going on and it could be dangerous and I…” He sighed. “I just don’t think she needs any more excitement right now.” Dean thought for a moment before he nodded. 

“Alright, tell her that we’ll hopefully be back in a few days and that she can call us or Jody if she needs anything.” 

By the time the two brothers got packed up and ready to go, a dark feeling had settled deep inside Dean’s chest. Something felt off. It sunk into his lungs and into throat, as if a shadow was trying to strangle him. When Sam climbed into the passenger seat, his brother looked white as a sheet. 

“You okay?” Sam wondered, half tempted to ask if he should drive, but he didn’t want to get punched. 

“Something about this feels wrong, Sam.” Dean muttered, shaking his head as he started the car. 

“What, do you think it’s a trap?” It wasn’t totally out of the realm of possibility. With the British Men of Letters and Lucifer out there, it wouldn’t be that shocking that someone was out to get them. But Dean shook his head. 

“I don’t know what it is, but with the buckets of crazy we’ve been through, I don’t think it’s good.” The two let that sink in, pulling out onto the road. Hoping to distract himself, Dean switched on the radio. Both brothers froze as the beginning words made Dean grip the steering wheel. Chuck sure had a cruel sense of humor on today of all days. 

Sister Christian, oh the time has come… 

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624; @halesandy; @livshaes; @d-whinchestergirl87; @mrspeacem1nusone

The Deal Series: @writeroutoftime

[cinnabuntastic]

You designed DW's mom? What does she look like?

I did! Her name is Levina Bufflehead (my whole hc for Drake is that he legally changed his whole name in college, both for personal reasons and to distance himself from his blood relation) and she is... a terror, honestly.

I'm still extremely fond of the design I ended up with. She does look like a widower on the hunt for #2. She's a genuinely unpleasant woman. In one story (the one I'm working on now, actually), Drake point blank tells Birdie that some people should need to fill out an application to be parents.

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2010s: 130 - 126

130. Triana Park - “Line” Latvia 2017

[2017 review here]

One of THE most tragic tales in this decade is that of Latvia. They completely reinvented themselves, turning themselves from an inept laughing stock into a precious indie sanctuary and aren’t getting rewarded for it. 

Fortunately, we at BorisBubbles believe in recitfying criminal underratedness, because, man, “Line” is great. A supernova of technicolor trance, subdued EDM undertones and styling reminiscent of Japanese kei, “Line” is both current and familiar, accessible and mysterious, providing a wholesome experience that makes you crave for even more of the same. My only qualm would be that I would have loved for them to be even *more* extreme/intense with their staging (Darker stage, more close ups, more colour projection), but otherwise a great entry that DESERVED to make the Grand Final. Kasia Mos was RIGHT! 🤗

________________________________________________________________

129. Il volo - “Grande amore” Italy 2015

HAAH THAT’S RIGHT, I DON’T EVEN- wait what am I saying I DO love Il Volo that much lmfao. However, I also love several other songs as much, so forgive me if let those underrated angels outrank “Grande Amore”, which doesn’t *need* any more attention. 🤗 That said, Grande Amore haters should take a hike because it plain owns. SO MUCH VOCAL POWER.  “Grande Amore” feels more like a Jalisse to me though: “Hey, Europe, see how superior our musical talent is, get rekt lol” and of course it is and we are. Braggart entries <3 

However, I am NOT someone who watches Eurovision for the music, or even the vocals, so let me just say one thing: THANK FUCKING HELL IL VOLO LOST. (if not only for their obnox fanbase). “Grande Amore” is great, mind, but this is not -my- Eurovision entry and I’m happy the true ESC traditions were preserved by having Måns and Polina as our top two. 🤗

________________________________________________________________

128. Bilal Hassani - “Roi” France 2019

Told you Bilal would be good! It’s kind of quaint how everyone convinced themselves, as soon as rehearsals started that Bilal was ~suddenly~ Good when I Had No Fear, The Power Lies In Him. 🤴

And I mean, the glow up was pretty amazing, not gonna lie. Growing from basic bop into an actually competent attempt at the gold <3 Naturally, Bilal himself is the best aspect of “Roi” for me. I have nothing but the utmost of respect how someone of his age, who had to suffer through so much abuse and dismissal still managed to keep a positive attitude, avoiding pettiness. 😭 WE ARE NOT WORTHY. 😭

However, while I think the revamp and staging were good, there was ONE big problem. You see, I think coming right before Mahmood is what really hurt Bilal, in the end. As lovely as I think the concept of “Roi” is, it pushes the idea of inclusion a bit too aggressively. Inclusion is, sadly, still a not theme everyone can (or wants to) relate to. Mahmood on the other hand provided a similar emotional pull from a more inherent source (shit parenting), which has a more universal relatability. (Not to mention that “Soldi” is also a much better song than “Roi”) As such, once “Soldi” happened, I think a lot of people simply forgot about Bilal. 

Overall, I am at peace with Bilal’s role in the canon. He proved his haters wrong, once more. 🤭 16th place is maybe a bit too low, but always tragic are the fates of those born on a battlefield. Bilal has already won LIFE at age nineteen, and that is what ultimately matters most.

________________________________________________________________

127. Valentina Monetta - “Social Network Song” San Marino 2012

“DO YOU WANNA BE MORE THAN JUST ‘A FRIEND’ 😏 DO YOU WANNA HAVE CYBER SEX AGAIN? 😉"

The first chapter of the ~Valentina Trilogy~ is perhaps the most obscure of the three, but it’s nevertheless a most curious rose-tinted delight. Who could’ve known that when San Marino selected some haggard ponytail named “Valentina Monetta” to perform a song called “Facebook Ooh Oh Oh” in Baku, that she would end up one of Modern Eurovision’s most iconic human beings? Of course once Valentina took the stage and proved herself unironically great, as both a person and a performer, we all realized that even the smallest country can cast a very tall shadow. <3

However, it wasn’t *just* Valentina who was at her best, because Siegel & Meinunger delivered a great trampoline for her rise to stardom: Quotable and actually funny, “The Social Network Song” is a effective tongue-in-cheek spoof of the social media monstruosity everyone loves to hate. It matter-of-factly points out all the things wrong with social media culture, but frames it as an ad 😍 This is then topped off with some brilliant, obscure meta humour: DID YOU KNOW that “IF YOU WANNA COME TO MY HOUSE JUST CLICK ME WITH YOUR MOUSE” is a shameless plug for Valentina, who owns a b&b irl? <3 WERK that fanboy clientele, Valentinangel!  In sum, 

(That makes ”Crisalide” is the last San Marinese entry standing in this ranking)

________________________________________________________________

126. Lena - “Satellite” Germany 2010

I have a confession to make: I was never *that* hot on “Satellite”. I’ve always liked it, but I was never ~enamoured~ with it. Fun, chartable bop. Sure, it’s good, but it’s not something I get excited by.

However, during my recent rewatch I realized that I might have spent all those years severely underappreciating Satellite.  You see, between my last 2010 rewatch and now, Germany has subjected us to: Ann Sophie, Jamie-Lee, Levina and S!sters, all bland, beige, mediocre women without a discernible personality (or in Carlotta’s case, a deliberately annoying one to mask how painfully uninteresting she truly is) and good lord revisiting Lena and her disarming dork charm just REVITALIZES me. 

Even in what I think is the lesser of her two entries, Lena still fires off entertainment gold: from this BRILLIANT Safura take-down 

to wonderfully banal lyrics

“bought new underwear, light blue and I WORE ‘EM JUST THE OTHER DAY 😅"  + “I even painted my toenails for you. I DID IT JUST THE OTHER DAY!!! 😅”

to engaging in CONSTIPATED DORK DANCES.

Reliving all of that made me realize that, you know, Lena 1.0 is quite great after all. I do prefer Lena 2.0 though, but that is a write up you won’t be reading any time soon. 😏

[laviniadeconde]

☆ ━ ━ OUT OF THE WAY ! can’t you see LAVINIA DE CONDE, the TUDOR COURT PAINTER of TURKEY coming this way ? I hear SHE is FLIRTATIOUS, but also SUPERFICIAL. SHE seems to remind everyone of FLOWERS SCATTERED OVER MOONLIT WATERS, A PEARL STILL IN ITS SHELL, .&. PAINT SMUDGES ON DELICATE HANDS. hopefully one day SHE will succeed in HER ambition to KEEP FAVOR AT COURT, but then again, the court is a dangerous place. one can only hope SHE will keep HER head… ( MERVE BOLUĞUR  ) ━ ━ ☆ as written by DAISY ;; EST, SHE/HER, 22 .

Historical Inspirations: Levina Teerlinc, Lavinia Fontana

Levina Teerlinc (1510s - 1576) was a Flemish painter and miniaturist who lived in the Renaissance. Widely regarded as one of the most important artists of the Tudor court, Levina served the English courts under the reigns of Henry VIII, Edward VI, Mary I, and Elizabeth I.

Lavinia Fontana (1552 - 1614) was an Italian painter who is regarded as the first female artist working in the same capacity as her male counterparts, outside of a royal court or religious convent. She was the first female artist to paint female nudes, and possibly the first female to use live nude female models.

AU History:

[ trigger warnings for mentions of sex, miscarriage/loss of baby, and parental death ;]

With such a strict upbringing, it is wholly surprising that Lavinia Efendi grew up with naught more but freedom in her heart, her words and thoughts wrapping themselves into poetry and song. The daughter of an Ottoman ambassador and a French countess, Lavinia discovered her talent for turning observation into art at a young age, her bouts of childlike fixation on the exquisite remedying itself in the examination and creation of art itself. As the daughter of world-travelers, the young girl often awoke to chambers filled with color and splendor, discovering different landscapes and new skylines with each city her father was tasked to visit, the nomadic lifestyle simultaneously an expansion of her boundaries and knowledge, and a contributing factor to her restlessness and inability to simply settle.

Her mother often lamented the fact that, of the two jobs women should hold (being pretty and sitting still), her daughter only ever managed to accomplish the former. Pretty was easy, but stillness, a forever-escaping ideal. There was no stillness when so many lovely things were around her, and her adolescence was one of self-made adventures, of finding a new escape in unexplored castle corners and mud-soaked peasant streets alike, as well as in their respective inhabitants. Her tendency to simply follow an interesting, beautiful thing stirred up disappointment in her parents, who believed the worst of their daughter and feared she had been stripped of her virtue before being presented for marriage opportunities within both the Ottoman and French courts.

The pursuit of various romances and trysts existed, of course, though they were not the sole reason for the excursions that persisted throughout her late adolescence. The girl, despite obvious beauty and the innate sensibilities that came along with a privileged background, found it easy to blend into her surroundings through her ease in presence alone. While her aptitude for chameleon-like charm went largely unnoticed by the royals and courtiers who almost always surrounded her, the locals were quick to consider her one of their own, teaching her peasant songs and drinking games without hesitation. It was never her plan to find a new lover in each new city, and neither a simple kiss nor the pleasure-pain of a song caused the ‘typical’ reactions of shame within her body or her mind, aligning herself explicitly with pursuits of freedom and beauty. In her mind, love was meant to be felt, to be experienced, and often -- as often as possible.

At eighteen, her father relocated the family back to France in order for  Lavinia to pursue a proper education in art, his hope being that the stricter French lifestyle would iron out her proclivity towards the wild, and subdue any and all tendencies she had towards romances with anyone other than a suitor he approved of. For four years, she lived the way he requested of her, devoting her life to art and poetry -- a life of beauty, to be sure, but one restricted in its endeavors and unsubstantial in terms of fulfillment. For a girl who knew only how to live with freedom shadowing every step she took, the greatest restriction came upon her father’s death, a sudden iron tether to the reality that she would have to marry in order to secure her family’s wealth and their position within French society.

Her mother, before her untimely death, worked quickly to present her to the French court as her world-traveled, exotic beauty of a daughter, a talented conversationalist and even better artist, hiding entirely the girl’s history of indiscretions while living in the Ottoman territories. She attracted several suitors, though none quite held her attention the way that Antoine de Conde did, his charismatic way of speaking enchanting her entirely and inspiring a deeper passion than she’d ever held for any of the men or women before. At twenty-three, she was married to the ambassador, perfectly in love with him even while finding herself still attracted to beauty in all forms.

The first affairs started quietly after their first year of marriage. In her hopes to find new muses to spur on her creativity in the wake of both her parent’s death and the suddenness of married life, Lavinia sought men and women of great beauty to soothe the distress she did not know how to present to her husband. Unlike the trysts of her past, this time was not just for the experience or to test her own boundaries, but as a means of clinging onto something familiar when everything seemed shaken and ripped away from her -- or, perhaps, as a way to simply be anything but what she was: an orphaned woman married to a man she may have loved, but did not truly know. The hedonistic, freedom-seeking girl of her youth was not lost entirely, but simply buried under the earth of newly-married life and all the trappings of societal expectation and reputation. 

As the years have passed on, however, Lavinia has found herself returning more to the innocently reckless free spirit she once was, though only time will tell if the King, the Tudor court, or even her husband will cast her from their good graces and into a world with no safety net, and no freedom to exist exactly as she pleases.

Additional:

When it comes to her indiscretions, there is a part of her that does feel (somewhat) guilty for her actions. She understands that her affairs are not acceptable to the society she now finds herself in, but refuses to accept their reasoning and adopt their refusal as her own. Her guilt mainly stems from the fact that she does love the man she married, and she knows that this marriage is likely not what he had hoped for. For Lavinia, Antoine is the first one to inspire in her what can only be love, a distinct blend of both passion and respect, and an endless fascination with his mind. Still, not only is it currently impossible for Lavinia to resist her innate tendencies towards hedonism, but the idea of limitation of one’s experiences is one she will always rebel against. 

Prior to rumors of her indiscretions swirling about court, Lavinia was granted a position of ‘Court Painter’ to the Tudor Court, which she takes great pride in. Others may slander her or speak ill behind her back, but no one can speak negatively of the woman’s work, which has been thoroughly praised by the previous King and current King alike. Due to her success within the artistic realm, the King has also appointed her as art tutor to the young ladies of the royal family. She greatly enjoys this role, and finds she is at her most peaceful when she is around children.

Lavinia fervently longs to have children and raise a family. In the past, she has had trouble carrying the baby to term, but has kept her fertility issues private -- not even her husband knows that she has gotten pregnant, let alone suffered a miscarriage. While she will likely always crave freedom, she cannot deny that there is something entirely appealing at the prospect of starting a family and raising little ones to embrace themselves fully, and carry themselves with dignity and grace.

Essentials:

Name: Lavinia de Conde (nee Efendi)

Position: Tudor Court Painter

Nationality: Turkish, French (through marriage)

DOB: May 21, 1508

Birthday: May 21, 1508

FC: Merve Bolugur

᛫ art heaux  ᛫ honestly, a hot mess. wants to be loved but doesn’t subscribe to societal conventions of love, which in turn limits the way she can receive love. ᛫ fights in the form of pouts and whines, never knows how to express her anger or frustration ᛫ gives the impression of an airhead, though her original thought often hides behind poetry to mask her more intellectual, ever-examining nature ᛫ falls in love every day with someone new (im paraphrasing Hozier here) ᛫ does actually feel guilty about how her indiscretions have negatively impacted her husband! ᛫ “limitations? i don’t know her.” -- lavinia de conde, probably + imaginative, artistic, charming, free-spirited, mischievous - selfish, superficial,  childish, air-headed, reckless

[katleowriting]

Hi everyone, Style or format questions here for all of you about one of my WIP. I’m starting to work on a story that jumps around a lot. I’m connecting multiple universes together to write one massive crossover. I plan for the first couple chapters to have time skips and jumps in them, showing the childhood of a group of siblings up to a sort of canon age. This is just really to give the background of the family and the family relationships between the main characters. And then go into the main story lines, these will start canon with the issues, that connect to make a major story line.

1) Should I make the family background stuff its own little story to show more in depth the family growing up? Or just keep first couple chapters jumping around the family until the actual story lines start? And adding flashbacks when they seem relevant.

2) Because I have multiple main characters, one from each of the universes, Should I have each chapter follow a different one? Or follow each one around a little in each chapter? Which way would you prefer to read it? I don't want the story to not flow.

The crossover consists of: Teen Wolf, The Vampire Diaries/The Originals, The Avengers/Marvel Universe, Arrow/DC Universe.

Stiles(Teen Wolf), Caroline(The Vampire Diaries), Felicity(Arrow) and an OC(Her name is going to be Levina) are going to be siblings and Children of Tony Stark. This Idea came to me and won’t leave me alone, so I’m going to write it. No idea where it came from but it is here now.

Thank you all in advance for your opinions. If I need to clarify any of the info let me know, Or I can give more details on characters.

[lifebetweenlines]

I’m semi-satisfied with the new name of my tumblr - “lifebetweenlines” though I think I might have compromised the originally intended pun. Well, I’ll just wait till another wave of epiphany hits me.

I spent my Christmas in the most low-key but not necessarily quiet way at home today. It involved a fair amount of prancing to the music and cooking with lots of pots and pans. The best part was I managed to do a bunch of things that were not that inconsequential as I could definitely benefit a thing or two from them.

1. I read a few chapters of “Eleanor Oliphant is completely fine”. I supposed it was yet another novel of an introvert struggling to find her rhythm in the cacophony that is life. I toggled between this book and “When you Kant figure it out... ask a philosopher”, the later of which was really engaging and enlightening. I love books that introduce me to many other good books. I already got through Spinoza (Desires), Aristotle (Experience), Nietzsche (Self-Realization), Epicurus (Mindfulness), Plato (Love), Pascal (Time) and Levinas (Love for Other) and still have about five more philosophers to weigh in on other flavors of life crisis. 

2. I finally submitted my CISA application after much procrastination. I need to be more proactive when it comes to career advance and professional improvement. Now that I have a better idea of what interests me, I should follow up with zeal and grit so I can realise my true potential (the fact that I see potential is already a grand gesture but I say take it up a notch).

3. I finished all the web trainings on the KMPG site and earned myself 2 CPE credits. This might not be a conventional relaxing thing to do during holidays but an overview of SEC and anti-bribery/corruption did not give me an upset stomach either so I woudn’t count this towards my bad decision bucket.

4. Instead of watching Love Actually or The Holiday for the hundredth times, I watched “Won’t you be my neighbor”, a Netflix documentary on Mr. Fred Rogers. I was deeply moved by his philosophy - that we are all special, not because it is our birth right but because we don’t have to do something sensational to be loved. I ended up crying a little towards the end as I realised what a wonderful, kind and genuine being he was.

5. I came across a beautiful poem about the unrequited love for the universe  - “The More Loving One” by W.H. Auden. My favorite part was this:

“How should we like it were stars to burn With a passion for us we could not return? If equal affection cannot be, Let the more loving one be me.“

2019 has been nothing short of amazing. I hope I can find some time tomorrow and the right frame of mind to jot down a few things I have learnt about myself and others the past year. Be right back.

[sterwood]

37,48,80

First of all, let me just respond by saying....love u. Okay, now for the questions:37. Do you read a lot? What's your favorite book? I'm surprised you asked this one, because I think you know, lmao. But yeah, I read a ton, though I should be reading a lot more, for sure. I was trying to read 50 pages a day for a while, and that was going well until I tried to do that with Difference and Repetition. That....did not work out. Not I'm out of sync.But instead of a favorite book, I'm going to list some favorite books, because they form a good constellation of my thought: 1) Pedagogy of the Oppressed (Freire), 2) Being and Time (Heidegger), 3) Being and Event (Badiou), 4) Totality and Infinity (Levinas), 5) Guerrilla Metaphysics (Harmon), 6) After Finitude (Meillassoux), and yeah, probably 7) Difference and Repetition (Deleuze) now. That's a really white/male list, I know, but that's just a sign that I need to read more lmao.48. Who is your role model? That's a really hard question, honestly. I guess if I were to name someone that I know in person, I would say Turtle Professor. He has an endless appetite for knowing things, not out of vanity or some sense of wanting to get 'complete knowledge' or whatever, but out of honest curiousity. That's why I was able to learn about complexity theory from him and also why, when Enrique Dussel visited UNR, he was the only one from our department that was fluent enough in both Spanish and Marxism to talk to him at length. He's also just a very kind and generous person who has education as one of his major goals - that's an ideal I'd like to embody.80. What is your biggest pet peeve? People who lack any kind of social awareness of when you don't want to be talking to them. Not even in a rude way, just because other stuff is going on. For example, I have a coworker that will just endless talk at (not 'to') you, even at the end of the day when I'm just trying to log entries in student binders so I can go home. And she'll just talk and talk and talk, and it's obvious that no one wants to be talking to her, they just all want to go home. That kind of utter lack of situational awareness is extremely irritating to me.Finally, and for a second time....love u.

[eurosong]

Eurosong's ESC '17 ranking and commentary

Good afternoon, folks! The clock is ticking down to the final and it's now about that time of the year where I unleash my commentary on all the songs. I tried to limit myself to a few sentences per song, but since there´s 42, this will doubtless be considered by some as a big read. Tongue in cheek in part but very candid about my views on some of the songs - don't proceed if you don't want to see a few songs savaged. As the ancient Romans said, de gustibus non est disputandum, and these are just my views and tastes.

1 Portugal From which planet did this extraterrestrial talent come and why do his people want to break our hearts so exquisitely? I cannot speak highly enough of these three perfect minutes of melancholy, longing, and yet, at the same time, love and hope. This performance speaks to the soul so intimately. It is a pure and timeless composition that I feel like I've known all my life, but have been waiting all this time to hear. Extraördinary and twelve cuts above everything else in the contest in my eyes. 2. Hungary How I love the fearless Magyars and their tendency to dance to the beat of their own drums, sending things that sound like nothing else in the contest. This is one of the most emotional performances in the contest and certainly one of the most meaningful lyrics - talking about the prejudice he faced as a Romani and the salvation he found in songwriting. The music is a sui generis blend of rap, traditional folk and other elements - and the pure passion invested into the lyrics and their delivery gives me goosebumps. 3 Belarus This is what three minutes of unshackled, care-free joy sounds like. Naviband are adorable, their chemistry pure, and their song is so full of joie de vivre. I feel like I’m out in the primordial forests of Belarus hearing the call of the ancients. 4 Armenia Another nation keen to exhibit its traditional music in curious new blends is Armenia, who this year bring us something that sounds at once distinctly Caucasian and East Asian. A curious mélange of genres and influences make this almost as far as you can get from the tired "Melfest reject" mould. I love the non-linearity of this song, and the æthereal feel that makes the song feel like a forgotten psalm to the gods. Great effort. 5 Iceland If you combine dark but infectious electro beats with some of the most subtly meaningful lyrics of the contest, you get this, in my book, one of Iceland's best contributions to the contest in some time. Svala's song is very personal to her and, through an extended metaphor, talks about struggling with accepting yourself for who you are. A very underrated track in my eyes.

6 Czechia Speaking of underrated, we have the perennially undervalued Czechs sending us one of the most understated and sincere offerings this ESC. Czechia's is a very subtle song about strength in adversity and human connection. The music is very pleasant, and the lyrics are sung with heart. 7 Belgium No matter the disastrous reaction to the rehearsals, City Lights remains for me one of the most unique and meaningful pieces in the contest this year. Whilst last year they sounded like a 90s girl group trying to emulate the 70s, this is year 3000, futuristic cool. There is a powerful minimalism in the lyrics that lets their many nuances sink in. "Are we going to lose it all?" 8 Romania You get instant ESC-snob credit by disavowing this Romanian effort, which on paper - a yodel-rap about breaking away from the 9 to 5 - sounds like it should be a ludicrous mess. But you won't see me doing anything but praising it as it is an instant ray of sunshine in a song. I love how much Alex and Ilinca, an incredibly cute pair, love their song and how they put their heart into each performance. I feel lifted up to the Alpine heights by each listen. 9 Azerbaijan For the first time ever, Azerbaijan stand to get into my top 10. They’re still raising my hackles by importing music from Sweden, but this time they’ve picked a credible and glacially cool artist with a mystifying and dark composition about obsessive love. A step in the right direction. 10 Italy The bookies’ favourite by far, and I can understand why - Francesco exudes cheeky chappie charisma and his song is one that can appeal across generations. Why only 10th then from this bonafide Italophile? I always found the chorus of the song to be very dated, sounding like the theme tune of an early 90s quiz show, whilst the verse and bridge has a much more monumental, anthemic air. I was more able to overlook the repeats of the chorus before they made disastrous cuts and excised most of the first verse and all of the second verse, leaving a song that is still fun, but a lot more repetitive. 11 Netherlands I’m honestly amazed that O’G3ne, a band with such a ridiculous name and a dubious pedigree, are on the cusp of my top 10 this year. They sing songs that are so dated that they wouldn’t have counted as fresh even in the early 90s. And yet, their song has a certain child-like naïveté in its lyrics about their ailing mother that it makes it unbelievably moving. 12 France A nice enough song from France this year, but nowhere near as good as Amir last year in my eyes. What really took the song down a notch was the clunky addition of unneeded, comparatively cacophonous English lyrics, which replaced the existentialist French chorus of the original with some throwaway clichés. 13 Macedonia Some fans consider the Macedonian entry fresh despite its reminding me of 3-4 different 80s’ songs blended together. What it is though is catchy and kitschy in a fun way. I have doubts about the live performance given her scandalous playback in London, though. 14 Finland As Holly Brewer  sang, “I wish I loved you more.” I should love a song like this, but instead I don’t enjoy it as much as I might because I feel they put a distance between themselves and the audience not fitting for such an emotional song. 15 Ukraine It’s no secret that I’m a rocker, but unfortunately, a lot of the rock at the contest has been sub-par in recent years - or has been “rock” in inverted commas. This is not a bad effort from Ukraine, but nowhere near the britrock-inspired heights of Georgia last year. It’s a bit too repetitive for my likes. 16 Latvia Something less to my typical tastes is this unexpected piece of 90s rave revival, a step away from the cool Aminata-penned electronica Latvia has sent in the past two years. It’s a welcome stylistical oasis in a desert of identikit pop ballads, but qualitatively isn’t great, and her nasal, oddly pronounced vocals are an acquired taste which I am yet to acquire. 17 Bulgaria Very nice, relaxing background music but I don’t think of it as much more than that. 18 Ireland This starts out so promisingly with a gloomy and mysterious beginning, but soon degenerates into an early 2000s B-side that was not only rejected by Westlife but also by an assortment of C-list bands imitating Westlife. It’s even complete with the obligatory key change that launches young Brendan into a register so high that it could shatter contact lenses while they're still on your eyes. Yet, I do find some charm in it, and this would be a contender for places 11-15 for me were it not for the god awful last minute. 19 Albania For once, Albania don’t completely destroy a song in its revamp - they maintain most of the rock-ish edges of the original, instead of neutering them like they did with Përallë. As is typical, though, they lumbered Lindita with a bewildering and clunky English translation that takes a lot of my enjoyment away from the song. 20 Germany This couldn’t be more middle of the road if it tried - so it’s apt, I guess, that it has a position almost precisely in the middle of my ranking. Levina was the best of a bad lot in Germany’s insane format of a national final and she soldiers through a song even she seemed like she preferred not to sing. The riff ripped from Titanium is so blatant - and the song is brought down too by some ridiculous lyrics. “Almost a sinner, nearly a saint.” So you’re almost exceptionally holy and almost someone who frequently sins at the same time? *Head explodes* 21 Switzerland An innocuously bland mid-tempo pop ballad. Not much to say about this one.   22 Croatia A man singing a duët with himself, giving a motivational message - to himself. One half in the quivery, syrupy upper ranges of an R&B tenor, the other half in a booming operatic baritone. It’s as ridic as it sounds and yet this Jeckyll and Hyde act is saved from the very bottom by its endearing barminess. 23 Denmark Disposable pop with a shout-sung chorus, albeit by a performer with some charm and connection to the audience. 24 Australia Musically, not so bad at all, but there’s something offputting about a chap young enough to almost be fœtal putting on a drippy voice and ridiculous puppy dog eyes, singing a song of a life of broken hearts and lost love more befitting of an old man. 25 Serbia Serbia used to be one of my favourite countries in the contest. They stuck to their own language and sang songs imbued with Balkan rhythm and tradition... now they send someone sending a poor rip-off of Katy Perry’s Firework. Каква срамота. 26 Moldova Evidently, meme status can open doors and can gift you a return ticket to the ESC. It’s a shame, as even in Moldova, there were better options than this rather misogynistic effort that seems to have been Bing translated, not even Google translated, and which sounds like it was based off a MIDI ringtone. Apparently bound for the final just because it’s upbeat. 27 Austria This exudes that relentless forced cheeriness that makes my blood run cold. It’s such a plim-plom song that bounces along whilst saying nothing. Most songs aim for the top and I can admire that, even if they have no chance - this aims for mid-table mediocrity in the final. 28 Israel Generic dance track with words plucked at random and thrown onto the paper. 29 Norway Robotically cold. Most songs make me feel something, even if it’s annoyance. This just leaves me numb. 30 Poland An oppressive dirge with lyrics that rely on a rhyming dictionary a little too much (rhyming fire, desire, wire and higher in the space of ten words!) and a bizarre song structure with an anti-chorus and no real progression, which make these 3 minutes feel very long indeed. 31 Sweden Predictable, repetitive pop with one of the most laughable performance routines (blokes trying to act “smooth” by doing very silly gestures) and lyrics that read as though written by Jay in the Inbetweeners. Let’s not romanticise uncontrollable lust. 32 Cyprus A rip-off of Rag and Bone Man’s “Human”, but without a message. Instead, some incredibly daft lyrics written by someone who failed physics even in primary school. Hovig likens himself to gravity because he will catch his paramour when she falls - when it is in fact gravity that pulls her down to her grizzly death. 33 United Kingdom Turgid rent-a-ballad delivered in a hammy style with not a whisker of sincerity - compare that with the virtuoso performance of her rival in the final, Holly, who sang like she felt the pain. I’ve been saying since the contest that it will do well, though, but I’m not sold one bit. 34 Spain Many of us Eurovision fans in Spain wasted money voting for other songs in the national final, only to find that the jury - 2/3 comprised of people with vested interest in one of the candidates - was able to override thousands of televoters when it came to a draw. They put the televote’s 3rd place, Manel, first, leaving a considerable bad taste behind. And what for? One of the most inane songs the contest has ever seen, in which either “do it for your lover” (do what?) or “just do it” are repeated on average less than every 4 seconds. It sounds like a homebrand Lazy Song and the songwriters sure were lazy. Playing this on a loop for just 15 minutes could make even the toughest commandos cry for their mammies. 35 Estonia Part of me wants to put this at the very bottom of the pile, but sadly, there are worse horrors yet to come. It’s really disappointing when your favourite ESC country in recent years throws aside a bunch of daring possibilities to represent them in 2017, in favour of something so aggressively bland, a cynical Eurosong by numbers with hackneyed, ultra-repetitive lyrics that mostly consist of entoning “á-a-a-a-à-a-a-a-á-a”, performed by a duo who have as much chemistry as two inert gases and spent most of the time hammishly gurning. 36 Montenegro How does one interpret it when one of the European countries with the biggest problems of homophobia - with 71% of the populace thinking homosexuality is a sickness and where a number of hate crimes have been registered just against people who support LGBT rights - sends such an OTT act with lyrics that are packed to the brim with single entendres? For me, it seems a cynical move. Slavko himself seems a cool guy but the song itself is a hot mess. 37 Lithuania And this is a hot mess, frozen then microwaved, then frozen then set on fire with a flamethrower. Be careful of watching this with pets or small children or they may well end up traumatised for life. Whilst unbelievably sweet in interviews, the lead singer of this act seems like a banshee possessed by demons whilst singing. Her bandmate seems like her creepy “keeper.” They sing a song with about 180 instances of the words “yeah, yeah” and some trumpets that sound like they were taken from Windows 95 sound effects. 38 Slovenia This has to be one of the most overblown and pompous entries in many a year. Omar claims he was waiting to unleash this on the unsuspecting public for over a decade - even back then, this grandiose attempt at a Broadway-style number would have sounded dated. 39 Greece I will never forgive the genius lyrics “rain falls from abooove!” Neither can I forgive the fact that such a completely generic track with lyrics written on the back of a Cornflakes box is probably destined for the final with the help of some gimmicky staging. 40 Malta This song fills me with all the energy of someone who’s been in a coma for 15 years. 41 San Marino Some folk are happy to see Valentina Monetta back for the fourth year. I’m sad to see a talented performer come back for scraps of infamy no matter how bad the song she’s offered. And my god, is this disco rehash fever dream bad. 42 Georgia Georgia is typically one of my favourite nations in the contest, because of their willingness to break away from the mould, to enter things that are very atypical of the contest and often do well with them - like the exhilerating psychadelic-Britrock of last year or the trippy folk of a few years before that. This year, they couldn’t have gone more off into the other direction, into the methane-scented hinterlands of mediocrity.  I find this song disasteful in so many ways. The overt and ham-fisted political nature of it. The creepy music, like the soundtrack to a cheap straight-to-VCR horror movie, which creates an oppressive atmosphere that makes me feel like the music is holding my head down under the ghoul-infested waters of a frigid lake in a winter forest. The ghastly, cliché-ridden lyrics, where “keep the faith” is repeated so many times that by one minute, my faith that the song will ever end is already shaken. Ugly composition.

[hisikofficial-blog]

Nah ist nur Innres

alles andre fern

 Only, the one inside is close

But everything is far

-Rilke-

  Ô Nour inside me!

Don’t you want to take my hand till the morning in which I woke and all becomes far away but you? You are believed to be such beautiful as being an inspiration to the poems of poets! You are so obvious and visible! So dizzying as the simplicity of a dream and you, transcendental being who reveals more than the tenderness of a mother!

We are in a night where we lost our way. Everywhere is obscure. Putting our pens to the sea of blood in place of the ink, we, one by one, are praising your name! Don’t you want to guide us to your way? If the only wish of the heart is you, don’t you want to appear in to this heart?

***

How beautifully said Höderlin:

Nach ist/ Und schwer zu fassen der Gott

“Is Close! And Is God hard to be comprehended of course!”  

 Such a difficult task is to turn the face to your light’s visage. Whereas, how close it is! Whereas, all the legacy that the poets have in all these centuries is the idea of the beauty of God’s visage! All universe is enlightened by the beauty of his visage. Means, he is the Outer who is visible(zaahir) and he is the Inner(bateen) who reveals the invisible ones.( هُوَ الْأَوَّلُ وَالْآخِرُ وَالظَّاهِرُ وَالْبَاطِنُ) (He is the First and the Last, and the Outer and the Inner. Al-Hadid 3)

Then what is the meaning of all this clamour for a lover? Why can’t he feel this beauty? Why does’t he know with whom he should fell in love? Whereas, love is a privilege. It is burning, being disappeared, taking all your existence off and being a none! Whereas, love is the place(maqam) of the one who is protecting himself from all strangers(non-mahrams).  The one, who opens his heart to only mahrams, can be in love! Then the days of love come! It is close but also it is hard to be comprehended, the existence of this union. It is inside and it is close and apart from the inner one, everything is just so far. It is like eternal and indeed it has no beginning as well. In the first, it is started by the love and it is also in the end. How lovely said Hafez Shirazi regarding this:

 ماجرای من و معشوق مرا پایان نیست

هر چه آغاز ندارد نپذیرد انجام

The story of me and my love can’t see an end

Indeed, the one without beginning can’t accept the end

 And again, Saadi Shirazi, in one of his lyrics, says:

 خوشتر از دوران عشق ایام نیست / There isn’t more beautiful days than the days of love

بامداد عاشقان را شام نیست / There isn’t the night for the pens of poems

مطربان رفتند و صوفی در سماع / The singers have gone and Sufis are dancing

عشق را آغاز هست انجام نیست / There is a beginning but there is no end for love

 ***

 Ô Nour that enlightens the darkness!

 Can’t you heal our tired bodies? There is no enough but you! Our wishes haven’t reached to us. Don’t you let into your home, the slave that understood there is no door to be knocked but yours? We have woken up from the imaginations and exchanged the dreams with the reality! Don’t you inspire your love to this heart? Aren’t you the one against whom all the powers kneeled? Aren’t you the one to whom all outgoings turned back? Aren’t you the one for whom all stopped started to move? Aren’t you the one leading the stubborn to dignity? Aren’t you the one guiding the blinds of reality to the truth? Then, can’t you stop by into our homes in this dark night?  

 We are in a day where we lose our way. We have no body and become stranger to our families. The ones who we asked help, have left us alone. Today, we have surrendered to you and we want you. Don’t you want to enlighten our minds with your Nour as well? Ô Nour of the ground and the heaven! Don’t you turn us to the home where we belong to?

***

We should also talk about the lover if God lets us! Why doesn’t He let us? The one who created love lets us to talk a few words about the lover who catches the heart.

 When we start to talk about the lover, the angel of intellect, how begins to help us! The face of God is the secret of the love indeed. An enormous energy, a powerful Nour spreading out of your eyes to the eyes of the lover. In my opinion, love is a revelation descended to the heart with which the lover can understand the beloved one beyond the appearances and the images. And with descent of this revelation, like a Prophet who gets divine messages, the one in love starts to suffer. Love descends to Poem’s heart and to Philosophe’s mind. So they want to spread out this Nour revivified their souls. The claim of Ibn Arabi, Jalal ad-Din Rumi, Suhrawardy and Mullah Sadra in the introduction of their masterpieces that “these books were made written by God” signs this revelation. This is the revelation of love. This has no relevance with the revelation of Prophecy but it is an important experience to be able to understand the suffering of a Prophet a little.          

 While we are talking about the divine beauties, we mostly forget to say a few words about the beloved one. Whereas, every single word told about the lover is the best word for the one who is in love. While suffering Hafez Shirazi crying such as to his lover:

 “درد عشقی کشیده‌ام که مپرس / Suffered with such a love, don’t ask

زهر هجری چشیده‌ام که مپرس/ Drank the poison of a separation, don’t ask

گشته‌ام در جهان و آخر کار/Travelled all around the world and at the end

دلبری برگزیده‌ام که مپرس/ Felt in love with such a beauty, don’t ask              

آن چنان در هوای خاک درش /Sat in front of her door, in dust and dirt

می‌رود آب دیده‌ام که مپرس  / Saw what was happening, don’t ask                      

من به گوش خود از دهانش دوش /Me, with my own ears, from her lips

سخنانی شنیده‌ام که مپرس/ Heard such words, don’t ask

سوی من لب چه می‌گزی که مگوی / Doesn’t say, keeps in her lips

لب لعلی گزیده‌ام که مپرس   / Slaved by a mute langue, don’t ask

بی تو در کلبه گدایی خویش / Without you, me as a beggar    

رنج‌هایی کشیده‌ام که مپرس / Took such troubles, don’t ask    

همچو حافظ غریب در ره عشق/ So, alone in the way of love, Hafez          

به مقامی رسیده‌ام که مپرس" / Reached in such place(maqam), don’t ask

  This is the story of the complaints of Hafez to his beloved one. But at the end again, with the Nour of ayat of Love, he confesses that he reached to a place(maqam) where he can see purely and he gets accustomed to the loneliness.  

Sometimes, like Hafez, the lover sees the place that he reached and understands the enlightenment of his mind. But in some other examples, the lover loses his peace and decides to accept the will of God and describes the love as predestination. These verses of Shams Langaroudi tells us:  

 آیا تقدیر

نام دیگر عشق بود

و برف و سنگریزه

هدیه اسمانش؟

 Indeed, fate

Was the other name of the love?

The snow and the rain of stones

A gift from love’s sky?

 And sometimes, the lover thinks that if he exists, the beloved one can’t be present. He wants to lose his existence in his lover’s and to become one. Levinas names this state as the melting of the subject in the object. About this state of lover, these verses of Royayi have very deep meanings:

 حضور من اینجا, غیبت تو در اینجاست

My existence here becomes your disappearance here.  

 Another state of love is to lose the existence of the beloved one. The one loves her in such a density that he loses the ability to know her real state. Now the beloved one has changed her existence with the body that shaped by the lover and in this state the lover starts to lose the hope. The example of this state described by Nadim, in his verses:  

 Yok senin vasfettiğin dilber bu şehr içre Nedim

Bir hayal olmuş, bir peri-suret görünmüş sana

 The beauty, you described isn’t present, Ô Nadim

It was just a dream or appeared a fairy to you  

 ***

Ô Nour appeasing the hearts in love!

 We are in the day before we would step in to the way of love to turn our faces to you. Don’t you make this last night as a mean of appeasement for us? While it is your light tearing the darkness, don’t you enlighten our darkness? While you described yourself as the Nour of the ground and heaven, don’t you look to our face with the Nour of Love?

 The lovers have told, the Nour of Love cleanses a person. And Rumi told about this:

 هر كرا جامه زعشقي چاك شد

او ز حرص و عيب كلي پاك شد

 Who feels in love, grows up with it

Be cleansed from greed and sin with it

 Don’t you also clean us with this desire? Cleanse our heart in your home, Ô Nour! Inspire the revelation of love to our minds and be our guest in our homes…

[ruptureline]

Between Levinas and Lacan: Self, Other, Ethics - Mari Ruti

Preface

vii

This book charts the ethical terrain between Levinasian phenomenology and Lacanian psychoanalysis.

If Levinas views the other as a site of unconditional ethical accountability, Lacan is interested in the subject’s capacity to dissociate itself from the (often coercive) desire of the other— whether the big Other of symbolic law or more particular others who, for the subject, embody this law.

[W]hile Levinas laments our failure to adequately meet the ethical demand arising from the other, Lacan laments the consequences of our failure to adequately escape the normative forms this demand frequently takes.

This explains why Lacan does not join Levinas in celebrating the inviolability of the other but instead seeks to rupture the unconscious fantasies that render us overly compliant with respect to the other’s desire; it explains why Lacanian ethics sometimes sounds like a mockery of everything that Levinas stands for.

viii

Undoubtedly, the Levinasian approach speaks more easily to our everyday notion of ethics in the sense that we are used to thinking that we should respect the other regardless of how confusing or repellent she may seem. This stance in fact —explicitly or implicitly— underpins many of the difference-based ethical paradigms of contemporary theory. And it has generated one of the most powerful ethical visions of the last decade: Judith Butler’s ethics of precarity as an ethics that posits shared human vulnerability—our primordial exposure to others—as an ontological foundation for global justice.

Žižek has theorized the so-called Lacanian “act” —a destructive or even suicidal act that allows the subject to sever its ties with the surrounding social fabric— as a countercultural intervention with potentially far-reaching ethical and political consequences. Badiou, in turn, has explained how the truth-event (a sudden revelation of a hitherto invisible truth) can compel the subject to revise its entire mode of being despite the potentially high social cost of doing so. In other words, if for Levinas and Butler, ethics is a matter of recognizing the primacy of the other, for Lacan, Žižek, and Badiou, it is a matter of a profound reconfiguration of subjectivity — of the kind of realignment of priorities that makes it impossible for the subject to stay on the path that it has, consciously or unconsciously, chosen for itself (and that others may expect it to follow).

However, this quest should not be confused with the attempt to revive the universalism of Western metaphysics, for if Levinas, Butler, Lacan, Žižek, and Badiou have one thing in common, it is their rejection of the sovereign Enlightenment subject, which means that the universalism they advocate cannot be based on principles such as rationality or autonomy but must, instead, seek alternative forms of legitimation. For Levinas and Butler, it is the subject’s relational ontology that offers such legitimation: insofar as the subject owes its very existence to the other, its responsibility to the other is non-negotiable and without exception. Žižek and Badiou, in turn, maintain that even though the act or the event always arises from a specific situation, and even though it annihilates the subject’s fantasies of rational self-mastery, the illumination it provides strikes the subject with the force of a universal truth (which is precisely why it cannot be ignored).

How do we meet the suffering of others without reducing them to objects of our pity? Does ethics arise from the vulnerable face of the other, as it does in Levinas?

X

Her ethics of precarity, I will illustrate, cannot work without a grounding in a generalizable ontology of human vulnerability, with the result that her efforts to downplay its universality ring false.

Simply put, I wish to ask why autonomy is such a red flag for Butler despite the fact that most of the world’s population is arguably not suffering from an excess of smug confidence. If, as Butler herself repeatedly reminds us, we are precarious and broken, why insist on breaking us more?

xi

At the same time, Levinas draws a clear distinction between ethics (where normative considerations have no place) and justice (which arbitrates between individuals on the basis of a priori norms of right and wrong), thereby suggesting that justice curtails our ethical accountability.

xii

Yet I also question Butler’s conviction that grief serves as a basis for ethical and political accountability, for it seems to me that grief could just as well have the opposite effect of paralyzing action. Even more insidiously, the emphasis on grief could make relatively privileged Western subjects feel like they are accomplishing something —working for social justice— when in fact nothing is changing in the world; the notion that there is something inherently “decent” about grief could make it too easy for Westerners to feel so good about their “virtuous” capacity to mourn the losses of the rest of the world that they (conveniently) cease to feel any urgency about doing anything else.

Essentially, Žižek and Badiou believe that when we choose to define the human being as a victim, we foreclose the possibility of the kinds of courageous acts (or events) that disturb the status quo of the hegemonic cultural order and that, potentially at least, allow new social configurations, including more just collective arrangements, to come into being.

Žižek and Badiou themselves advocate a more radical approach, arguing that it is only when the subject risks its ordinary way of being (including, perhaps, its grief) that it becomes a “real” subject— a subject with agency and thus the capacity for ethical and political action.

Chapter 3

The Lacanian rebuttal: Žižek, Badiou, and Revolutionary Politics

77

[Butler’s] last book, although it does not mention Badiou, is de facto a kind of anti-Badiou manifesto: hers is an ethics of finitude, of making a virtue out of our very weakness, in other words, of elevating into the highest ethical value the respect for our very inability to act with full responsibility.

At the same time, I have expressed my reservations about the masochistic, disempowering tendencies of both Levinasian and Butlerian ethics, and these reservations are what steer me to the more rebellious Marxist-Lacanian ethical paradigms of Žižek and Badiou.

79

What I mean by this will become clear as my discussion progresses, but let me say right away that this basic Lacanian stance manifests itself in the theories of Žižek and Badiou as the conviction that the point of ethics is not to fixate on our entrapment in hegemonic power but, rather, to make the impossible possible. In other words, if Butler tends to underscore the impossibility of breaking our psychic attachment to wounding forms of social power, Žižek and Badiou insist on our ability to do precisely this.

81

While there may be some truth to this claim, it also overstates the issue because, as I explained in Chapter 1, Levinas does not actually depict the face as a locus of straightforward identification. Rather, he describes it as “a being beyond all attributes” (EN 33), as what escapes the kinds of conceptual and perceptual categories that would allow us to reduce it to what is familiar to us. The face is a site of utter singularity, of utter self-sameness, which means that it by definition defeats our attempts to classify it. Consequently, far from facilitating immediate empathy, the face alerts us to the limits of empathetic affinity, which is exactly why it elicits unqualified responsibility — why, in Levinasian terms, we are supposed to protect the other regardless of how this other appears to us, regardless of whether or not we experience the other’s face as benevolent.

[L]ike Badiou, Žižek wishes to demonstrate that multiculturalism works only as long as the other is someone with whom we can identify (and let us not forget that Butler’s ethics of precarity calls for exactly this type of identificatory capacity); Žižek reminds us that multiculturalism makes sense as long as the other possesses qualities, ideals, or values we can relate to but that matters become complicated when the other no longer makes any sense to us, when the other is, say, a suicide bomber who does not hesitate to kill random civilians for the sake of his or her cause.

82

We have in fact had to confront the problematic Badiou highlights, namely that despite our rhetoric of respecting differences, it is difficult for us to respect those who refuse to respect differences.

Are there not situations where the Levinasian respect for the face is overrated and it would be better to heed Žižek’s call to smash the other’s face (N 142)?

This is why the Butlerian solution is to humanize those faces that have been deprived of their human resonance by both global and more local structures of power. Žižek’s strategy is the exact opposite in the sense that justice, in his opinion, calls for a radical dehumanization of the subject—a move away from the face.

83

In other words, justice begins when I recall the distant multitude that eludes my relational grasp.

Along related lines, Badiou asserts that it is not respect for differences but rather a kind of studied indifference to them that founds ethics.

What we have here is a clash between the Levinasians and the Lacanians, the defenders of the face and those who see the aesthetics of the face as a decoy that distracts us from impartial justice.

84

But what most interests me is that, despite their obvious disagreements, both sides of the clash, in this particular instance at least, seem to be on a quest for a universal foundation for ethics.[BÖ1]  After all, whether we are looking to make every face count equally, or to studiously ignore every face, we are striving for a general principle that levels distinctions between individuals; we are trying, in our divergent ways, to say that either everyone matters or no one does.

86

My main point is that the post-metaphysical critics I have chosen to analyze in detail are all, in one way or another, willingly or not, attracted to the idea that there might be a way to theorize a universalist ethics even in the absence of the sovereign humanist subject[BÖ2] . However, where they diverge is in how they conceptualize the relationship between the singular and the universal.

86

Žižek and Badiou, in contrast, see no contradiction between singularity and universality; as their statements about the “coldness” of justice (Žižek) and the “indifference” of ethics (Badiou) indicate, they believe that the universal can, potentially at least, accommodate a multitude of singularities.

Žižek and Badiou take it for granted that every singularity can claim an immediate membership in the universal.[BÖ3] 

87

In practice, this means that women have always had trouble transcending their coding as female first, human second; blacks have always had trouble transcending their coding as “colored” first, human second; gays have always had trouble transcending their coding as “deviants” first, human second; non-Westerners have always had trouble transcending their coding as “other” first, human second, and so on. This is the dynamic that Žižek and Badiou ignore in their wholesale rejection of all “identitarian,” group-based political movements, such as feminism, antiracism, queer solidarity, and anticolonial struggles.[BÖ4] 

The reason they want to go directly from the singular to the universal[BÖ5]  is that they see the identitarian focus on particular identity categories such as race, gender, sexuality, religion, and nationality as a “reactionary” political stance (PP 75 ) — one that at best traps individuals in narrow and self-serving preoccupations, and at worst leads to the extreme violence of nationalist uprisings, ethnic cleansings, and religious fundamentalisms. However, Žižek and Badiou do not adequately distinguish between different identitarian movements, so it becomes difficult to see the difference between the Civil Rights movement and National Socialism.[BÖ6] 

89

By this I do not mean to suggest that feminism is more important than class politics —not at all— for what most bothers me about the approach of Žižek and Badiou is precisely that they engage in such a counterproductive ranking of political causes. And, unfortunately, their efforts to elevate the class struggle over all other political struggles[BÖ7]  give the impression that what is, in the final analysis, at stake for them is an old-fashioned Marxism that seeks “universal” emancipation for white men while being entirely willing to leave everyone else behind.

Interestingly, this is exactly the complaint leveled against Žižek by Laclau, who notes the same problem I have just outlined, namely that the idea that the class struggle is somehow more intrinsically universal than other political struggles, such as multiculturalism, is based on a spurious ranking of political causes.

In Laclau’s opinion, not only is it possible to demonstrate the potentially universalist appeal of the causes that Žižek labels “identitarian,” or “particularist,” but it is also possible to show that the class struggle is no less identitarian than any other struggle, centered as it is on the worker’s self-understanding of himself as having a particular identity—an identity that can be undermined in various ways. The class struggle, on this view, arises when the worker feels that his identity is somehow threatened, for instance, when he fears that below a certain level of wages, he cannot live a decent life. As a result, Laclau declares that his “answer to Žižek’s dichotomy between class struggle and identity politics is that class struggle is just one species of identity politics, and one which is becoming less and less important in the world in which we live.”[BÖ8] 

95

Žižek’s dismissal of the ways in which the particularity of subject positions continues to matter cannot be divorced from his resistance to defining the human being as a victim — a resistance that he shares with Badiou. In other words, what creates a chasm between Butler in the Levinasian camp on the one hand and Žižek and Badiou in the Lacanian camp on the other is the latter’s rejection of the premise of constitutive precariousness, the very premise that is central to Butlerian ethics.

96

[T]hrough Badiou’s argument that to equate the human with the victim —to reduce the human being to the fragility of his constitution— is to deny the rights of the “immortal.”

Perhaps most important, the truth-event represents an ethical opportunity that allows the subject to pierce the canvas of the established order of things so as to identify what Badiou calls “the void” of the situation.

97

In unveiling the void of a given situation, the truth-event creates an ethical opening, an opportunity to see and do things differently.

In Lacanian terms, Nazism did not disturb “the fundamental fantasy” of a world without social antagonisms but merely avoided confrontation with such antagonisms by displacing them onto the figure of the Jew, which it, then, sought to destroy in order to eradicate the specter of collective rifts as such.

As Žižek specifies, the inauthentic event “legitimizes itself through reference to the point of substantial fullness of a given constellation (on the political terrain: Race, True Religion, Nation . . .): it aims precisely at obliterating the last traces of the ‘symptomal torsion’ which disturbs the balance of that constellation” (“CS” 125).

98

Badiou believes that when we categorize the human as a victim, we effectively shut down the possibility of authentic events: we make it impossible for new ways of interpreting things to enter the world. We, as it were, sacrifice the rights of the immortal for those of the mortal, denying that it is only as something “other than a victim,” something “other” than a mortal being, that man accedes to the status of ethical subjectivity. This is why Badiou concludes that defining man as a victim only ensures that he will “be held in contempt” (E 12). Badiou further asserts that the victim, in the Western imagination, tends to be associated with the disempowered postcolonial subject, so that behind the Levinasian outlook that underscores our responsibility for the (suffering) other hides “the good-Man, the white-Man” (E 13).

What is awkward about Badiou’s formulation is its implication that victimization is something that can be avoided or rejected at will. It may be that Badiou does not mean to vilify the victimized themselves but merely ethical models —such as that of Levinas— centered around the notion of victimization. But this distinction is not always easy to uphold, with the result that Badiou at times sounds as if he thought that some people “allow” themselves to be victimized, whereas others (those capable of truth-events, those we admire rather than hold in contempt) are heroic enough to resist it.

The problem is akin to the one I noted above with regard to Badiou and Žižek’s assumption that every singularity has equal access to the universal.

[ultradavidmovestouklove-blog]

Unshakable

I read this text on Escape recently.  It’s by a French Philosopher (a distinction they give a theorist after the Greek level of septuagenarian) named Emmanuel Levinas.  He was commenting on the times.  The year of its initial publishing does that very thing.  It set something up.  It rendered me the above term about the determination.  In philosophemes there are many termes (French) ---- ends, even to the ends of man.  Business-ready individuals bud at the terms, too.  They form use-cyclical specialization.  The pay period recognizes many end-uses.

For the last several months which depart from the greater portion of a year that began last summer, I have had this edge.  I was trained once to Think at the Edge.  It’s about forming ratios of facets that go together to describe the edge one is on.  This edge was the edge of oblivion at one point, upon another occasion is re-cycles and uses escape.  Back then was now over again.  This is a wisdom of no escape.

Except Levinas provides you with the opportunity to let it off you.  Perhaps all ove the duality of letting vs. going, or letting go, is a synthesis that is entirely French.  In his time people were evading.  Trumps tax equation to seek out the havens and decommission frauds of all kinds in the name of evasions terms a relevance in political news.  Politics is about war though.  Philosophy is about barbarians.  Levinas is through with ontologism.  There is this lyric by Morrissey that goes, “Call me morbid, call me pale, I spent six years on your trail, six long years on your traaaa-ail.”  Levinas worked through Heidegger and the totalitarian state of government.  Much of his writing through Heidegger because he does write through him, as he was a direct student of Husserl.  Heidegger maybe even evaded Husserl in Being and Time.  Others contend this being there of, “Are you kidding me?”  Husserl gave him the world.

I listed ontologism.  Levinas even considers the state of the genus.  Introduction to Linguistics would bring up phylum and genus after the ontic in Language.  Many of us lost it on being.  Levinas in stating ontologism brings up a set of beliefs he formed and dissolves into his own escape.  They escape him because of language.  Heidegger dwelled there.  Being there with language was very semi-automatic for the theories that I prepared for.  Semiotics are more deafening in fact.  Semi-audiology I still seek.  Levinas is really quietly pissed off at his work because of this wisdom.  However, the long essay provides this one great set of qualia.  One can achieve a level of indefectible.  I’m not going to escape to England.  Except there are little earthquakes everywhere and a few people asking me about when I’m going to love myself as much as they do.  Though they don’t write, the complex of that question of rhetorical response included juts out into whom you see next.  Its determinations are always estranged by the figures of beings that don’t line up with attractive modes of getting to an earth violence sharp enough, my grandma said sharp when you dress that way you can know, to historicize.  In the background this album by Tori Amos brings me to England.  There are all these tremors and seismotranscendents answering that question at me, but she continues that things will change so fast and none of them write me about the white horse that will help me make up my mind.

Avoidance is a category of PTSD.  I was diagnosed with that years back and suffered and pained a very serious mental struggle that altogether psychophysiologized so wasn’t as psychotic as it was psychosocial without the Other in presence.  Becoming disabled took longer.  It takes 18 years to fly to the sun.  How many children voyaged to adulthood that way?  What have you become and has the pedagogy of shame shown you that often you don’t get to choose what form you take about the category of identity that shapes your worldview.  After I signed up for SSDI, a form of social security, I was shaped without circulation in my legs, a lot of stammering self-spee(ch) that wanted to be argumentative which amounted to scattered lonely discourse, and then I went through periods of time with severities of Tibetan collapsed skull.  It was really beautiful though staving off the escape but storing up what does.  Evasion is like the void which in Hegel resets the show of phenomenology.  Tibetan flyers or rocketeers, these soul figures flew to my window to take me away for what I was undergoing.  It turned out to annhilate me.  There were elephants that stampeded the Merrimack River in my daydreams.  i got so close to a hawk at one time that I nearly handled her, for deference and respect over misogyny.  A belated sequitur is that physiologized was pushed into my body before embodiment, so I was very sick all over.  In French because of precious, transcendental material (though Levinas elsewhere atheisticizes).  Atheism.  That’s the thing of amount.  It’s very surplus and through with you the -isms.  They are impossible to fixe and many want to become rather than overcome scratchbrains of belief systems that determine their historical length.  Ismus is through with, over, but not the kind that hovers and shines about man.  Doing-doing-done.  Like going-going-gone.  Passing it out.  This great teacher of aesthetics and confined by eschatologism taught me a great deal about the future when she mentioned proper nameism.  Freudianisms.  It forms a path to an end.  The thing is different than its membership of belief.  I’m unlost to school of thought and proud of deconstruction and postructuralism (an alternative spelling I choose for the abyss that maybe it has been a not yet of theory).  My teacher’s name was Sara.  I was studying surrealism that semester.  Surreal art is more alive and thinks.  In this scholarship we continue to question categories that do shake us to our core and demand over again which resupply the believing in lieu of planning that comes through the Spanish language where Sara taught me.  In another realm she is professor Nadal, which made me swim daydreams of lunar fauna that Lorca leftover from the riverbeings that never wanted to check and balance Zizek’s Occupy Towers for tenants.  He should form a tent tower move.  Except Verso publisher made it to London and a flash of the noble is his definition despite the bravado of his concurrenz.  Contanz evaded him once.  He showed me the right lights one year, and I had a minute of celebration that lasted for infinity.  I wonder its address in London, but they did this thing where we might never see each other again so traumatically that its happening outside somewhere.  The events are forming and the Other demands less belief anyway out of the transcendents chasing spirit off for more proper heading.  Common people don’t even mention cognition or thought.  Imagine little what escapes them.  Words may come out of mouths in spee as escaping language.  But you cannot.  I challenge anyone that reads this to transform into someone indefectible.  That you go because one joins you and Godspeed is near the pilgrim’s earth, and that’s the method of travel.

It shook.  I didn’t.  It’s shaking again.  I’m holding out my hand to him.  He ends it by thickening his eyes that he beholds one held out.  The politics of Deals!!!  Pfffffffffffffffffff.  There are only two sides though, and slime gets radioactive.  It can be the formation of gel, the congealing blob of shames can take you until it shook a little one over again.

You out there.  Are you there?  Do you believe in little earthquakes that happen all over a survey of uninhabitable hearings of terrain?  I don’t want to melt, so I’m going to make use of an old cybernetic trick.  Signing out.  I’ve developed a purpose in a gap of closures which is full of total truth after what I was fighting but leave unworded.  I plan to move to the United Kingdom.

[eurorangers-blog]

EV Profile - 🇩🇪 In February Levina won the right to represent Germany in the Eurovision Song Contest after winning the national selection. 'Perfect Life' was penned by US platinum songwriter Lindy Robbins and her team, and encourages the notion of a perfect life by allowing mistakes in pursuit of dreams. Levina, whose first name is actually Isabella, is 25 and comes from Bonn. She won the acclaimed German regional, federal, and national music competition Jugend Musiziert at the age of nine and started writing her own songs at the age of twelve. She currently divides her time between Berlin and London where she is studying Music Management at the London College of Music. Applications to take part in the German selection opened in autumn last year and casting sessions were held at the end of 2016. Five acts were then chosen out of more than 2000 applicants with Levina winning through. For the first time ever, international viewers were able to have their say in who should represent Germany in 2017, using a feature on the official Eurovision Song Contest app, Eurovision Vibes. According to Levina, Perfect Life is about taking something positive from a negative and "not being afraid of making mistakes when you want to reach for your goals." Levina added that the the lyrics to Perfect Life are universal and speak to everybody; "the beat immediately makes people want to dance, and I would like to present something truly special for the audience of the live show in Kyiv", she said. The Eurovision Song Contest important for Levina given that it has a history of celebrating cultural differences. "At a time when the political situation in Europe isn’t always easy, I’m especially excited to be able to participate in this contest and show that music has the potential of bringing people together." #germany #perfectlife #levina #celebratediversity #eurovision2017 #Eurovisionsongcontest #EuroRangers #EuroVisionRangers #esc #eurovision (at Germany)