#the last post kind of blew up in comparison to my usual stuff and ??????????

[a-mongooose]

Why do I always end up posting at completely unreasonable hours? Oh well! Sleep is for the weak <3 The Drew kids have comically large gaps in skill when it comes to artwork. Like Audrey really needs to step up her game <///3 And by popular demand, I have given Bendy his well deserved chocolate. Nothing else happened. No souls were harmed in the process. Trust me bro 

#bendy and the ink machine #bendy batdr #audrey batdr #batdr #bendy and the dark revival #okay but like #thank you guys?????????????? #the last post kind of blew up in comparison to my usual stuff and ?????????? #just???? i love all of you that interacted tbh #the RBs were so NICE ugh i want to put all of you in my pocket for safekeeping #anywho #ill get some more content for yall of these silly little goobers #or ill try #either way something will happen #these games have been living rent free in my neurodivergent brain since 2017 so i have plenty of juice #but whether my shriveled little husk of a hand will cooperate is unkown #wow these tags are devolving rapidly BASICALLY #im gonna try to revamp some of my old designs for the JDS staff. wow I struggled to articulate that #but if you read this far #have a wonderful day or night or whenever you see this :) #and DONT . sell your soul to bendy. no matter how nicely they ask. <3 #<- speaking from experience #sorry no im not

[niseamstories]

I took historical sword-fighting lessons to make the fights in my novel more realistic - here’s what I learned.

Edit: Whew, this blew up! Stoked so many of you find this useful. :) Leave me a follow if you like, I’ll try to make more research posts like this (next one will probably be about my meeting with a linguist for a fictional language).

To make the fighting scenes in my low fantasy novel more realistic, I went to see a trainer for historical sword-fighting last week, both to barrage her with questions and to develop realistic choreographies for the fight scenes in the novel. Since I figured some of what she told me might be useful for you too, I put together a small list for you. Big thanks to Gladiatores Munich and Jeanne for making time! (Here are some more pictures if you're interested.)

Caveat: I’m by no means a sword-fighting expert myself, so take these nuggets with a grain of salt – I might have misremembered or misinterpreted some of the things Jeanne told me. If I did, feel free to tell me.

1.) Weapon choices need to make sense

Let’s start with a truism: always ensure your character’s weapons make sense for a.) their profession, b.) their cultural background and c.) the environment they’re going to fight in. A farmer probably couldn’t afford a sword and might use a knife or threshing flail instead, and someone who doesn’t want to be noticed probably wouldn’t be milling about sporting a glaive or another large weapon. Also, soldiers native to a country with wide open plains would be more likely to carry long-range melee weapons such as spears or large swords, than those from a country consisting of mostly jungle or dense forests. The same applies to situations: if your character is going to be fighting in close quarters (even just a normal house), he’d get little value out of a spear or even a longsword, as there’d be no space to swing it effectively.

2.) Boldness often beats skill

In real swordfights, recklessness was often more important than technique. The fighter less afraid of getting injured would often push harder, allowing them to overpower even opponents with better technique.

3.) Even a skilled fighter rarely stands a chance when outnumbered

While a skilled (or lucky) fighter might win a two-versus-one, it’d be extremely unlikely for even a single master swordsman to win against superior numbers, even just three and if they’re below his skill level. The only way to plausibly pull this off would be to split the opponents up, perhaps by luring them into a confined space where you could take them on one by one. The moment you’re surrounded, you’re probably done for – because, unlike in Hollywood, they wouldn’t take turns attacking but come at you all at once.

4.) Dual-wielding was a thing

... at least in some cultures. I often heard people say that people using a weapon in each hand is an invention of fiction. And while my instructor confirmed that she knew of no European schools doing this—if they did, it’s not well-documented—she said it was a thing in other cultures. Example of this include the dual wakizashi in Japan or tomahawk and knife in North America. However, one of the biggest problems with the depiction of dual wielding in novels/movies/games are the “windmill”-type attacks where the fighter swings their weapons independently, hitting in succession rather than simultaneously. Normally you’d always try hitting with both weapons at once, as you’d otherwise lose your advantage.

5.) Longswords were amazing

Longswords might seem boring in comparison to other weapons, but they were incredibly effective, especially in combat situations outside the battlefield. The crossguard allowed for effective blocking of almost any kind of attack (well, maybe not an overhead strike of a Mordaxt, but still), the pommel was also used as a powerful “blunt” weapon of its own that could crack skulls. Though they were somewhat less effective against armored opponents, the long, two-handed hilt allowed for precise thrusts at uncovered body parts that made up for it.

6.)  “Zweihänder” were only used for very specific combat situations

Zweihänder—massive two-handed swords—were only used for specific purposes and usually not in one-on-one combat as is often seen in movies or games. One of these purposes was using their reach to break up enemy formations. In fact, one type of two-handed sword even owed its name to that purpose: Gassenhauer (German, Gasse = alley, Hauer = striker)—the fighters literally used it to strike “alleys” into an enemy formation with wide, powerful swings.

7.) It’s all about distance

While I was subconsciously aware of this, it might be helpful to remember that distance was an incredibly important element in fights. The moment your opponent got past your weapons ideal range, it was common to either switch to a different weapon or just drop your weapon and resort to punching/choking. A good example of this are spears or polearms—very powerful as long as you maintain a certain range between you and your opponent, but the moment they get too close, your weapon is practically useless. That’s also why combatants almost always brought a second weapon into battle to fall back one.

8.) Real fights rarely lasted over a minute

Another truism, but still useful to remember: real fights didn’t last long. Usually, they were over within less than a minute, sometimes only seconds – the moment your opponent landed a hit (or your weapon broke or you were disarmed), you were done for. This is especially true for combatants wearing no or only light armor.

9.) Stop the pirouettes

Unfortunately, the spinning around and pirouetting that makes many fight scenes so enjoyable to watch (or read) is completely asinine. Unless it's a showfight, fighters would never expose their backs to their opponent or even turn their weapon away from them.

10.)  It still looks amazing

If your concern is that making your fight scenes realistic will make them less aesthetic, don’t worry. Apart from the fact that the blocks, swings and thrusts still look impressive when executed correctly, I personally felt that my fights get a lot more gripping and visceral if I respect the rules. To a certain extent, unrealistic and flashy combat is plot armor. If your characters can spin and somersault to their heart’s content and no one ever shoves a spear into their backs as they would have in real life, who survives and who doesn’t noticeably becomes arbitrary. If, on the other hand, even one slip-up can result in a combatant’s death, the stakes become palpable.

That’s about it! I hope this post is as helpful to some of you as the lessons were to me. Again, if anything I wrote here is bollocks, it’s probably my fault and not Jeanne’s.  I'll try to post more stuff like this in the future.

Cheers,

Nicolas

#research #sword fighting #medieval #fantasy #writeblr #writing #dreams of the dying #writing research #real #writingtips

[advernia]

i’m amazed that i’ve been active for at least a couple days straight??? is it the effect of lesser fe3h playtimes + the silly coworker writing challenge at the workplace??? oh well ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

since i remembered i was trying to make work commentary a thing here, more rambling / author’s notes under the cut!

jul 6th // ikerev

push your way through the cracks is the first edgar/mc i’ve written here and while i’ve mentioned there that edgar is my fav out of the cast, i fear that i’ll probably take me a very long time to write another one bc... he’s my favorite. i noticed i have the tendency not to write much (or have finished works) about ships i really, really like despite... you know, liking them. hopefully not - shipping aside, i like exploring the characterizations of enigmatic types like edgar.

about the fic, i pretty much like it save for the second part bc i think i could’ve done something more with it - not exactly change the setting, but expounded a little further on it. i don’t know, it feels lacking somehow in comparison to the first two.

there are a lot of flower-related descriptions tossed here and there, but i think i succeeded in not being so purple prose-y? hopefully! this was pretty descriptive, i guess.

with this edgar fic present, that means i have 2 more red army doods to write about, namely zero & jonah. i was really aiming to make edgar the last one tho haha.

jul 12th // ikerev

weave me into your web is canon based, specifically pt. 24 of sirius’ route where they say ‘goodbye’. note those quotation marks.

i think i wrote this after a discussion i had with a friend about sirius & his route - she read some posts commenting on the route and she wanted a nearby opinion. we got into an agreement: while we do find sirius to be indeed husbando material, his route would’ve risked nothing if they gave him more / emphasized his flaws. his flaws, not mc’s, gosh. 

no, seriously. in my opinion, mc fretting so much about being immature sort of blinds her from the little things that prove sirius is not so composed as he appears to be. it gets even worse when she realizes she’s fallen in love with him, and while i enjoy the black army going kira-kira rabu support team + seth being hopeless suitor, i’m going 50/50 on mc. she’s written to be indeed very single-minded come the war phase and while that’s not necessarily bad since she gets to broaden her perspective as she always does, i think i would’ve appreciated it if she came to most of the realizations on her own by reflecting on them based on how the events around her are progressing; and not simply by sirius / someone else pointing it out for her. no wonder she’d think she’s immature in comparison - it also irks me a bit that she keeps on fretting about her feelings for sirius. this is what i’d be sad to see again in other routes: the romance overthrowing the potential / present character development. 

side note: i understand that in relationships with a notable age gap, maturity / perceived maturity can be a problem - i just wished that the route downplayed on this bc honestly, there are other things more interesting to explore than that angle, like, say; isn’t she from another culture or world or something????????? will those differences affect our potential relationship??????????????

on sirius himself, i recall reading on reddit that one person didn’t pick up ikerev for the reason that the cast is too perfect. that’s a fair opinion. i think i can relate this to sirius himself: while throughout the route you do see some flaws in him, he’s still overall the dude you’d write home about + that dude you’d dream introducing to your parents complete with that suave voice (thank u junichi suwabe). no, i’m not saying that he has to have some unlikable or quirky trait / wangsty backstory, it’s just that in my opinion he’s desirable but not exactly relatable. let him struggle, let me see him rise up from it. show me his humanity. there’s the scene with him and lancelot, but i want more. tho him being afraid of being alone is what i find extremely relatable and endearing about him, very nice. otherwise... well, maybe i have to reread the route again or smth.

anyway. the fic emphasizes actually on his character trait of self-control / restraint. did u know too much is bad for u??? it can reflect that since you hold yourself back too much, it could mean that you’re masking your true feelings, for example. there are various psychological studies on that. *stares at sirius* hMMM.

i took care to be quite descriptive on that kiss scene and at the same time, not to be so emotional on it bc it’s still sirius lol - i believe he’s not one to lose himself completely to his emotions, but he’s not that afraid to succumb to some of it - especially if he actually wants to feel them.

... this turned out to be a rant portion rather than a fic commentary now didn’t it

aug 24 // ikerev (i’m seeing a pattern here)

a beginner’s guide to waltz was seriously just some formatting experiment, then it blew up to something larger. i actually like it tho, it’s cute.

writing oliver is actually fun, not bc of the reason that i can be rude. he is rude, but he’s not like that for just the sake of being so. as seen with blanc, it’s probably a result of habit. why exactly he chose to be verbally aggressive is something i’d like to know in his route.

i have no idea how the relationship shift is portrayed either, but i do hope it’s a mortifying revelation on mc’s part lol. like, lookie here, that little kid with his wee shorts and pretty hat that you hang out with all the time and don’t care about acting so ladylike around was that hot hunk who saved you before! oliver’s so amused and never letting her live it down.

for the line ‘i’m not interested in asking you about a decision you’ve made since you arrived here’: the decision mentioned is mc’s promise not to fall in love & to go home. i think oliver would be one of those routes where he falls for her but wants her to go home anyway, but the difference in his route is that he’s very adamant to make her leave. maybe thinking along the lines of ‘i don’t want you to end up like me’ or something. idk. idk what i’m trying to type at this point, lol.

just some random thought, but i do hope ikerev artist tcg someday draws mc in the game outfits / hairstyles bc she’s actually rly pretty. the description of mc’s outfits / fashion of part 4 of the fic was out of me just staring at the my closet portion of the game. don’t ask - i like the hc of oliver & mc having elegant wardrobes / fashion sense, and since i’m too lazy to check up 19th century london fashion trends...

sep 28 // collar x malice

haunted by something still alive was the result of me thinking about guns. don’t ask me either. maybe it’s also a result of me wanting to write something else that isn’t from my horrendous drafts folder lol.

these were actually nice drabble practices, and the first one i clearly had i mind was shiraishi’s. i honestly think it would be fitting, probably around the start of the route where they haven’t got to know each other so well.

from there on i tried to do the drabbles in the route order i did when i played the game, which was mineo - sasazuka - okazaki - shiraishi - yanagi. but tbh when i was writing it became shiraishi - mineo - yanagi - sasazuka - yanagi again - okazaki, lol. i rewrote yanagi’s and okazaki’s three times.

subtitles have their respective mathematical operations on it - i find it kind of cool and funny that those are their symbols (amnesia had the card suits), but when you do think of it properly, it does relate to their characters.

... never forget that hoshino ichika is canonically good with guns.

sep 28 // ikerev

in absence of glass slippers as stated was a part of one of my first ikerev drafts. still a draft until now, but the portion i posted is one of the ‘finished’ sections of the fic.

i don’t headcanon mc as a respectable lady from a equally respectable house or her being a well-off girl, but i like the concept of her being a self-taught lady of society aka she learned stuff like manners, dancing, and etc. out of curiosity or for more practical reasons like fitting in. 19th century london is still the victorian era, so social class and propriety was still a thing.

her taking off her shoes to practice dancing with ray is a sort of a challenge, actually... his measure of improvement will be based on the times that he steps on her feet / how many blisters her feet would gain by the end of the session, lolol - that’s why she says that stepping on a rock is the least of her problems. pretty hardcore, isn’t she?

thus the title actually - glass slippers (mary janes actually) are pretty delicate, but don’t you think a lady’s foot is much more delicate?

with ray’s fic up, i’ve officially written a piece for all of the black army men! nice.

sep 29 // ikerev

neither heaven or hell is holy shit, an mc-centered fic! hella rad - i was half thinking to classify it as a drabble, but since i decided that drabbles are pieces that i may get back on, i kept it as a full fic instead since i’m happy with how it turned out.

all of my screamings are in the tags, so i don’t have much to add besides that lol. however, the writing here is pretty different, and that’s because i was trying to do a three sentence fic challenge kind of thing. buuuuut it became three paragraphs with three lengthy sentences instead lol.

also, there’s some stuff highlighting mc’s london-er/english-ness. washing powder is the british term for laundry soap. 19th century roofs for royals were usually panels, and wooden beams for commoners. different as chalk and cheese is a british expression. i’m certainly not british but i just like emphasizing the fact that mc is of another culture/world, thus there should be differences in how she perceives things / her mannerisms & actions / her way of speech. i’ve been conscious of that in all of my fics involving her.

actually, i do make it a point to watch her way of speaking. i really like the polite way of speaking of 19th century britain (and also of today), so i try to integrate that despite the fact that i’m not british myself lol. it’s hard to fully convey it, but i try with hoping that it doesn’t seem too off. i should probably look for more references to practice it.

this was a very spontaneous piece with actually minor editing involved, and i’m pretty proud of how it turned out.

#rundown.txt #oh this is certainly longer than i intended it to be #oh well thank you to those who reads these ramblings of mine tho!

[ohblackdiamond]

starfucker (gene/paul, nc-17)

Yeah, I heard about your Polaroids, that’s what I call obscene...

Written for and on Paul Stanley’s 67th birthday, I’m just a day late in posting it here.

Gene’s introduction to America almost twenty years prior had been like a kid moving to Disneyland. Everything was bigger in America. Everything was better in America. Everything had that candy-coated glaze of promise, still hanging heavy and dazzling in his heart: here, you can make it; you just need the drive and the smarts and the guts. Here is a dream you can snatch up, if you want it badly enough.

He had tried to explain it once, when half the band was more maudlin than full-on drunk, but Ace and Peter both had zoned out entirely and Paul, for all he was first-generation on both sides, for all he’d been hoping for commonalities, didn’t understand either.

“You’re telling me the exact same thing my parents did.”

“They were right.”

“They wanted me to get there through college, Gene. They didn’t tell me I could do whatever the hell I wanted and succeed. It’s bullshit, man. You’re too—the American Dream stuff might’ve been true during Ellis Island and all that, but it’s not now.”

He’d looked at Paul, really looked at him, hoping to find something beyond the cynicism. He didn’t. Paul might as well have been one of his sixth graders for all he’d pay attention without the threat of penalty.

“You don’t get it. You don’t get it because you’ve never lived anywhere else.” Never lived how he had. Selling fruit in the streets with his mother. Living on government rations. Living scared. Paul’s rare, mopey accounts of his own childhood were blissful in comparison. Whatever bullying he’d received, he’d never gone hungry. Never been afraid for his life. He had no idea what a blessing that was. None.

It just confirmed what Gene had already known. They shared a faith, but not a background. Hell, Paul hadn’t even had his bar mitzvah. None of that cultural belonging tied the two of them together. Maybe not even personal belonging, either. Gene was an outsider even in his own band.

Paul just shook his head and shrugged.

“They said that, too.”

So Gene had gradually left that kind of serious talk behind over the course of the tours. It wasn’t worth it; he knew the other three weren’t intellectuals, but he was starting to think they were actually morons. Ace and Peter were busy getting drunk, stoned, or both before and after concerts—hit him at just the right time, maybe a full moon, and Paul would indulge, too—and Rush’s guys were just leading them further astray. Gene felt like trying to get Bill to get them to tour with the Carpenters next, as if that would cut down on the antics.

As for himself, well, since he couldn’t manage any stimulating conversation with his bandmates, he was settling eagerly for stimulation with his groupies. Something else that was bigger and better in America—the size of its women’s breasts. Must’ve been the fluoride in the water. He’d been in the process of chatting up two girls in Ace’s room when one of them had made the tremendous mistake of taking the communal laundry bag off Alex’s head during one of his particularly drunken comedy routines.

It was like flicking the papal mitre off the Pope’s head. Worse, it was like unmasking the Lone Ranger. Alex and Ace had, predictably, gone ballistic and chased both of the girls out of the hotel room. Gene had followed them at a distance, only to hear them mumble about “fuckin’ scary rockstars” and see them digging in their purses for payphone change to call their boyfriends. Well. That settled that.

That settled plenty, except he was still half-hard. He could hear Ace and Alex and Neil whooping from the room, and he knew that a new comedy routine from the bag was already underway. Gene grunted to himself and dug the key out of his jeans pocket and let himself back in his room.

“Paul? You still in here?”

“Hey.” Paul looked up from the T.V., frowning. His hair was wet, and he wasn’t wearing anything beyond a loosely-tied blue terrycloth bathrobe Gene could’ve sworn had been Paul’s only constant companion since they’d started touring. Like every other member of the band—every member except Gene—he lacked the innate shame to even yank on a pair of boxers at the sight of a non-groupie visitor. “What’re you doing here, Gene? Thought you were picking up those girls in Ace’s room.”

“The bag threw them out.”

“The ba—oh, yeah,” Paul said, snorting. “He’s high as shit, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried. But I am holding it against him.” Gene paused. “I thought you’d be back to your room by now, too.”

Paul shrugged and went over to turn up the volume on the T.V. An Easy Bake Oven commercial was playing, of all things, the little girl onscreen spreading frosting on the cake. So banal it was a little annoying. Looking at him, though, Gene realized Paul was just trying to catch the jingle at the end.

“I was gonna, then I took a nap and a shower.”

“No girls?”

“No girls.”

Not that much of a surprise. Paul could be indifferent, downright cold to company, which had always struck Gene as a little annoying, if not potentially disastrous. Couldn’t be merrily flamboyant onstage and then aloof as soon as he walked back to the dressing room. Bad publicity in the making. He’d be pleasant enough during what few interviews they’d scored as a band, but it was obvious he didn’t actually want to do them. Gene wondered if Paul was getting more egotistical, or if that latent shyness was just setting his nerves on edge. Paul was the only deep-down introvert in the whole band. He’d have to get over it at some point.

Besides, even if Paul wasn’t as assiduous about getting girls as he was, he still managed to have one in his bed at least half their tour nights. So if he was lonesome, that was his own fault. Paul walked over to the set to turn up the volume one more time—God, he always had it up too loud. Knowing why didn’t make it much less aggravating.

“Really not my idea of a thrilling evening.”

Paul flopped back on the bed.

“What, because of the girls? Just get a taxi and go to a nightclub. There’s gotta be one around here somewhere.” A pause, and a stifled yawn. “Where the hell are we tonight, anyway? Austin?”

“Austin was last night. Tonight’s Corpus Christi,” Gene mumbled.

“Oh, right. Good thing they remind me beforehand. Last time I fucked up the city they were almost rioting.”

“You told Pittsburgh they were a wonderful audience—”

“And it was actually Kansas City. I know, Gene.” Running his hands through his hair, looking more like a damp poodle than a human being, Paul sighed. “Could’ve been worse. Could’ve told Charleston they were Pittsburgh.”

Gene snorted and sat down next to him on the bed. Paul was splayed out on his back as if it were one of their lousier photoshoots, but he at least moved his legs to give Gene more room.

“We’d be mounted on some redneck’s wall.”

“With or without the makeup?”

“With. You think they’d dare? It’s like yanking off Batman's cowl.”

Paul laughed, shaking his head.

“Some of the girls don’t even want the makeup off. Don’t you think that’s weird? Like…” Paul was considering, or trying to. Always a bad sign, because Paul tended to trail and never get to the point, in public and in private. Gene had been taking spokesman duties during interviews and news stories out of necessity, not desire. Paul could’ve stuck to a script, sure, except they didn’t have one yet, and Peter and Ace would just bungle things with the press, Gene was positive of it. “Like, okay, if I’m gonna fuck someone, I don’t want the pretense.”

“You mean you don’t want to be Starchild for them?”

“No, not… not exactly. I mean, I don’t mind, but… you ever feel like they’re conning you? No, not… conning, but… they’re not being real, you’re not being real…”

“Paul, if you want an honest relationship, I don’t know why the hell you’re fucking groupies.”

Paul glanced at Gene then, and snorted. His hair had fallen in his eyes, and he just blew it back with a breath.

“I’m not complaining, I’m just saying I wanna be real with somebody sometime. Don’t you?”

“God, no.” Gene paused, leaning back on his arms on the bed. “You wanna be real with someone, be real with your shrink.”

From the corner of his eye, Gene saw Paul’s face fall slightly. Shit. He’d forgotten Paul had one of those. Or used to, at least. Gene opened his mouth, not to apologize, exactly, just explain, but Paul started back in, oddly unruffled, before he could manage.

“Give it five minutes and you can watch the Johnny Carson show with me.”

Gene groaned.

“You know I could’ve done that at home, right?”

“Well, yeah, but here you don’t have to pick up your own towels.” Paul paused. “Not that you do that anyway, but…”

“Move.”

“Okay, okay.” Paul shifted over again amiably as Gene scooted in. Soon enough, Ed was introducing Johnny Carson with all his usual insane vigor, as if he hadn’t been on air every single weekday for the past decade. Maybe Carson wouldn’t be such a bad avenue for KISS, if Casablanca could up their notoriety enough for him to consider it. There didn’t seem to be a method of self-promotion left they hadn’t at least tried to stoop to over the last two years. Even immolation was only barely out of bounds.

Beside him, Paul was paying more attention to Carson’s Carnac the Magnificent routine than it probably deserved that night—Carnac was already spouting off fake curses to the audience.

“What’re you pissed about?”

“I’m not pissed.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Gene heaved a sigh. Carson’s studio audience laughed loudly in the background.

“I had a big number coming up.”

“A big number?”

“Yeah.” He paused. “Tonight I was gonna bang my 200th chick.”

“You’re counting them?”

Gene gave Paul a look that was a cross between bewildered and long-suffering, a look he used to reserve for the slowest of his students when they were scrawling out one-step equations.

“Of course I’m counting them. What did you think the Polaroids were for?”

“I thought you just took pictures of the ones you liked, not every girl you banged!”

“No! It’s a record for posterity, Paul.”

“You’ve probably got twenty posterity running around already,” Paul said with a snort. “I know you don’t wrap it up half the time.”

“They’ll have the most successful dad since Charlemagne.”

“Who?”

“The fifth Beatle.”

“Oh, shut up, Gene.” Paul twisted off a couple of rings as he spoke, scrambling over Gene to set them on the nightstand. The small plinks against the plywood sounded oddly final. Paul returned to his spot on the bed immediately afterwards. “Nothing stopping you from going to a club, you know.”

Gene shook his head.

“I don’t want to deal with drunks. Maybe Ace and Peter don’t care, but I’m not running the risk of her passing out before we get to the hotel.”

“There’s always at least five sober girls at the disco. You’re just being lazy.” Paul clasped his fingers together, stretched out his arms with a groan. “You really want to hit number two hundred tonight?’

“That was the idea.”

Paul looked contemplative. Gene was always thrown off the rare times that look flitted across his face, because ever since he’d met Paul, he’d been fairly convinced the man didn’t think so much as base his life off shaky impulses. And not like Gene himself did, either, not in terms of libertine conquests. Paul was more like an anxious, gangly dog, as apt to hump a girl’s leg as turn tail and hide in a corner. He tried not to let it show, but five years of knowing him, and two years of being a door away, at best, meant Gene knew better.

Clearly, though, Paul was thinking now. Those hormone-addled synapses were firing, fully oblivious to Carson’s latest jab toward President Ford. He was even yanking his hair back and squeezing those last drops of water out onto the carpet as he turned to look Gene dead in the eye.

“Give me your room key.”

“What?”

“Give me your room key.”

It was perched next to the T.V. set. One key hanging from a small metal hoop. Gene got up and handed it over, eyebrow raised questioningly. Paul spun the keyring absently around his finger. That thoughtful look hadn’t faded from his expression yet, but his mouth twitched just slightly up.

“Now get your camera.”

“Paul, what the hell?”

“Number two hundred just volunteered.”

Gene stared.

“You’re kidding me. Tell me you’re kidding me.”

“I’m not kidding!” Paul was still spinning the key. “You want your two hundredth lay and you don’t want to leave the hotel to get it.”

“That doesn’t mean—shit, Paul, you can’t just—”

“Can’t what?”

Paul was looking at him with an expression so obnoxiously blithe and amused that Gene almost wanted to snatch back the key and tell him to stop screwing around. But that might only encourage him, at this point. Those wheels were turning to some inevitably questionable conclusion. God, they all had to stop spending so much time at those raucous parties, no matter how good they were for filling up his photo album. They were giving Paul disturbing ideas. Gene cleared his throat, tried to explain.

“That’s not something you volunteer for.”

“No?”

“Paul, c’mon, it’s pretty damn qu—”

“You’ve still got a hard-on, Gene.”

Shit. Gene’s eyes went straight to Paul’s crotch, almost accusingly, but that bathrobe was loose enough around his frame that he couldn’t tell. That was it, he couldn’t tell. It couldn’t be that Paul was shooting all this bullshit, trying to get a rise out of Gene, while he was completely soft. No. Couldn’t possibly be.

“Don’t flatter yourself, damn it, you didn’t see their tits—"

The only solution was to follow along. Keep on going, and keep on going, until Paul backed off. He would; Gene knew he would. Then they’d finish up on Johnny Carson and bitch some more about girls or about Peter and Ace or about Paul’s more recent exes (one of whom had been sleeping with Joe Namath, which seemed to bother Paul on some weird intrinsic level that Gene frankly didn’t understand) before finally calling it a night. Pass out like the lousiest excuses for rockstars he’d ever heard of.

“I’m not flattering myself. I’m just saying you’ve still got a hard-on.”

“Shut up, Paul.”

Paul didn’t shut up. Of course he didn’t. He just started humming the chorus of “Strutter” as he stretched out on the bed, ankles dangling from the edge. Gene shifted before getting up entirely and pulling his suitcase out from under the bed, taking out his camera. Plenty of shots left. He’d had way higher hopes for Corpus Christi than Paul Stanley on his bed. He gritted his teeth, willing Paul to back out, and back out now, except he could feel Paul’s eyes on him as he got back to his feet, camera in hand. Could feel the interest there, the intrigue. Paul was going to match him. At least for now, Paul was going to match him.

“How do they usually pose for it?”

“Between their tits.”

Paul frowned.

“I mean, I can try, but…” and he dropped the key on the dead center of his chest. The key looked like a forlorn found object a bird had tried to line its rather furry nest with. “No. No, that’s not gonna work.”

“God, no.”

“Maybe I should just hold it.” Paul picked the key up, frowning. “Or… do you want more of an interesting angle, should I have the edge facing the camera?”

“Paul, I’m taking a picture. This isn’t your art portfolio here.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t just hold it.”

Gene groaned.

“Okay, hang on.” Paul got up and headed for the adjoining bathroom. Gene could hear the water running almost immediately, and a few seconds later, Paul returned, bathrobe still tied closed. “All right, ready.”

“Where’s the key?”

Paul raised his tongue. The key peeked out, tarnished bronze on pink, and Gene groaned.

“You’re gonna choke on that.”

“Iy-ull be ’ine—” Paul nearly spat out the key. Gene swallowed a laugh as Paul took the key out, wiped it on the bedsheets, and shook his head. “All right, all right, I’ll just have it in my hand.”

“Okay. Then sit down.”

Paul sat down on the bed. Gene picked up the camera, zooming in carefully, as Paul held the key between his forefinger and thumb. He looked like he was about to crack up. The camera flashed, the picture ejected, and soon Paul had snatched it away, shaking it vehemently as the image started to appear.

“Wait—wait, give it here, I’ve gotta fill out your name at the bottom.” Honestly, Gene was aiming for initials. P. S. could stand for anything

“I’ll fill it out! God knows I don’t charge for autographs.” The developing image, though, was getting clearer and far more disappointing. Paul’s face wasn’t visible. Instead, Gene had taken a close-up of the key itself, leaving not more than an inch of Paul’s index finger in the shot. “Gene! Oh, fuck you!”

“It’s gonna ruin the photo album if I’ve got a hundred ninety-nine chicks in there and then you!”

“It’s gonna make it the best album ever. Take it again.”

Gene hesitated.

“C’mon, take it again.”

Gene gave him a long-suffering look. Paul started fluffing out his hair as if this were a photoshoot instead of the prelude to the most questionable conquest either had ever attempted. Raising the camera once more, Gene was sorely tempted not to warn him first before he pressed the button.

“Fine. Three, two, one—"

Paul popped the keyring right back into his mouth the second before the camera flashed. The key dangled between his lips like the sultriest provocation. He grabbed the photo before Gene could voice a protest, holding it up for both of them to see.

This time Gene had caught him. Really caught him. Paul leaning in from the picture, poised and eager, broad hands resting on the bed. There was a bit of glare from the key in his mouth, a wanting, amused look in his eyes that the slightly-out-of-focus shot didn’t hide at all. But Paul was still disappointed.

“Aw, fuck, it’s a little blurry.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“One more.”

Reluctantly, Gene picked up the camera again. Paul shifted on the bed, this time propped up on his elbows, one knee raised. The bathrobe was riding up, showing more of both thighs than Gene cared to see. But it wasn’t indecent yet. Just—

Snap.

Snap.

“Safety shot,” he insisted when Paul glanced at him curiously. He raised his hand before Paul could reach for the developing photos, gathered them both up and watched the image emerge. Clear this time, perfectly crisp. Maybe Paul nerved out a bit during interviews, but in front of a camera he was golden. Absolutely golden. Dragging the attention away from everyone else in the picture, clawing it away with only a pair of pursed lips and big, dark eyes. It was annoying during KISS photoshoots, but here, with only him, only him on the bed, it was something else. Something Gene didn’t want to own up to as he stared, fascinated, from one shot to the next, finally setting them both down on the bed without a word. He barely heard the next words out of Paul’s mouth, a come-on that shouldn’t have been a come-on at all.

“Let’s keep on.”

“Keep… keep on?”

“Yeah,” and Paul laughed, turned to his side just a bit more, hand running against the edge of his robe. “You’ve got the film for it. You wanna?”

The words seemed to reverberate in his brain. You wanna. An offer. A proposition. Unbelievable. Totally unbelievable. Paul couldn’t be doing this to him, couldn’t be unraveling him—upping the ante, that was all it was, just upping the ante. Yeah. Yeah.

Gene’s fingers fidgeted before he picked up his camera again, feeling some stupid warmth spread across his face. Dimly he could hear Carson questioning the night’s special guest with all his usual slick irreverence, barely a patter in the background. Two words, too easy and casual, and all he could manage was a nod before raising the viewfinder to his eye for another shot as Paul offered up his most shameless smirk for the camera.

He kept on. God only knew why. He’d been with more photogenic girls. There was nothing alluring to him about how Paul was posing. Awkward, whiny Stanley Eisen, that douchey high school senior who always looked stoned—there was nothing sexual about him. Six years down the road, he was still that kid, no matter if he’d changed his name and curtailed his diet, no matter if he’d grown out his hair even more and stolen some slivers of confidence. No matter if he was slowly peeling open the bathrobe, revealing inch upon inch of his broad, hairy chest as Gene snapped shot after shot in a mindless rhythm. No matter if he was wearing that sex-soaked smile and tilting his head just so, languid and eager.

No matter if he reached up and trailed his long fingers down Gene’s arm. As Gene leaned over, as Gene got on the bed, the camera became the only thing left between them, the only piece of distance. The only separation. The photos were spilling out onto the bed like scattered confetti, each one revealing a little more and a little more.

By the tenth shot Paul was toying with the tie of his bathrobe, lying on his side, back arched. The robe had slid down past his shoulder, exposing his rose tattoo. There was a half-healed bite mark just beneath it and Gene couldn’t help but wonder which groupie had left it there.

By the fifteenth he’d cast the robe aside entirely. Gene’s hands were sweaty against the camera, thumb slipping on the button. He was on his knees now, Paul sprawled next to him, back against the covers, completely exposed and half-hard, hips arching up against nothing at all.

“Paul.” Gene barely recognized his own voice, the heaviness there. He was still looking at Paul through the viewfinder, still watching his head raise and his lip curl from a distance as he answered.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t pose like that.”

“Why not? Too provocative for you?”

“Not provocative enough.”

Snap. Paul bristled slightly—there’d been no countdown this time—but then he reached a hand out, sliding it against Gene’s thigh as the photo ejected, forgotten.

“Oh, yeah? You got me in a good mood, Gene, I’m open to critique—”

Gene put his hand on top of Paul’s and lowered the camera, setting it down on the edge of the bed. Looking at him full on, all barriers gone, those still-damp curls and those big brown eyes and the teasing strokes of his hand rubbing his thigh, inching over, over, to grip and fondle his hard-on through his pants. Gene sucked in a breath, fingers curling around Paul’s and pushing his hand aside, gaze never wavering from his face.

“They don’t have me in them.”

He didn’t give Paul a chance to answer. Barely a chance to open his mouth before Gene leaned in and over him, cupping his chin and crushing their lips together. Paul’s mouth tasted like the cherry tarts room service had brought down a couple hours ago, the ones he’d said he wouldn’t eat, and his lips were chapped and hot under his.

Paul was shoving his tongue in Gene’s mouth before Gene could even manage it, reaching up to yank Gene on top of him, rocking up against him desperately as his hands dug beneath Gene’s shirt. All coyness, all pretense utterly shattered. Gene laughed throatily at Paul’s freneticness, but he wasn’t any better, fingers fumbling with his own shirt, trying to peel it off while Paul’s hands roved over his back, short nails leaving light pink lines across his skin. His pants and boxers were off only moments later, Paul’s help no help at all, wriggling and rutting against him as he tried to unzip himself and toss the clothes aside.

It was a tangle of limbs, imprecise, messy. Paul nibbling at Gene’s neck, groaning as Gene’s hand went for his dick, stroking him hastily. Time seemed to collapse on itself. Gene didn’t hear the T.V. anymore or the raucousness from Ace’s room or the groans from Peter’s—all he heard was Paul gasping beneath him, all he saw was Paul flushed and willing and wanting, mumbling for him, indistinct rambles that sank somewhere deep inside him. A feeling he was chasing. A feeling that he might belong after all, only for a moment, a feeling that he might belong with him.

Gene grabbed the lube from the dresser, slicked himself up before turning Paul on his stomach, figuring that might be easier. His fingers were slippery as he started to prepare, inexpertly at best. The backdoor wasn’t his favorite with girls, honestly; too much prep for a less-exciting finish, at least for them. But Paul wasn’t going to be that way, already back to bucking up, relaxing into his touch as he eased himself inside him. Gene reached around, breaths heavy as he grasped Paul’s cock again, stroking unevenly with his own thrusts, grunting hard as every twitch and jerk of his hips drove them both closer, closer—

Paul came first with a low groan, spilling into Gene’s hand, sliding against the sheets. It wasn’t long for Gene after that, just a few more thrusts at best before orgasm coursed through him, utterly blinding. He all but collapsed against Paul after, eyes shut, panting against his sweaty skin as he pulled out, draping an arm haphazardly across Paul’s back before he fell asleep.

---

Everything was better in America. Even, Gene assumed, the morning afters.

Most of his involved asking the girl to leave before the crack of dawn. In fact, Gene had half-expected Paul to be gone by the time he woke up, slinking back to his own hotel room to clear his head of last night’s madness, but he wasn’t. Instead, Paul was leaning against the nightstand, bathrobe back on, eating a bowl of Cheerios. The usual hotel breakfast spread rested precariously on a tray on top of the T.V. “Morning, Gene.” Paul clinked the spoon against the ceramic bowl with every scoop.

“… Morning.”

Gene sat up slowly, reaching over the edge of the bed for his clothes and tugging them on, at an utter loss for words. He could feel Paul’s gaze on him, was sure it was amused and not worried. Not concerned. Had to be. He cleared his throat, finally managing to string a sentence together.

“Where’s my camera?”

“On the table. Figured one of us was gonna step on it otherwise.”

“And the pictures?”

Paul grinned and pulled open the nightstand drawer. There, beside the lube, were the photos, in order, neatly stacked.

“Right here.” He handed them over. “Oh, I couldn’t figure out which one you liked, so…”

Gene sifted through the photos, nail digging against the paper’s edge. At first, he was just looking at the images, turning one after another in his hand. His own documentary of the entire evening’s descent, up until that debauched climax.

Their climax.

But then he looked at the lettering beneath, and he stared, eyes wide. Every photo, every single photo, was signed in bold black scrawl across the bottom:

“Paul Stanley, #200.”

“Paul Stanley, #201.”

“Paul Stanley, #202.”

“Paul Stanley, #203.”

“Paul Stanley, #204….”

“Paul, what did you—”

Paul set down the bowl of cereal.

“Oh, yeah. Well, you said you couldn’t have an album with a hundred ninety-nine girls and then me. So I figured I’d just even things out.”

“Even things out.”

“Yeah.” Paul dug through Gene’s luggage, finding his teasing comb, and started to drag it through his bushy hair. “That was sixteen pictures. Number two hundred’s taken care of, so that just leaves us fifteen more.”

“Fifteen more.”

“At least.”

It took a minute to dawn on Gene. More than a minute, honestly. Paul had averted his eyes, the only sound the tugging of the comb, when Gene finally answered, slow smile spreading across his face as he reached over to yank at one of Paul’s stray curls.

“You’ve got a huge ego, anyone ever tell you that, Paul?”

Paul laughed, brushing his hand away, offering up a grin of his own.

“All the damn time.”

#kiss the band #kiss fanfiction #paul stanley #gene simmons #gene simmons x paul stanley #happy birthday paul!!

[officialcolumbiauniversity]

May 24. Final grades finally came in, so in the spirit of this blog here’s my sweep:

organic chemistry: A-

calculus iv: C+

music humanities: A-

independent research: A

Lands me at a 3.4 GPA this semester. This semester was the best I’ve had in a long time, so I thought I’d break it down for you and offer my musings: 

I’m a bit disappointed by orgo, since I worked my butt off for that class and I really thought I knew the material yet apparently I must have done horribly on the final since an A-, post-curve, translates to mid-80s for that class. I scored above average on all the midterms, usually top 10%. We also have daily online assignments due, and I blew almost all of them out of the water, except for the last 3 weeks or so because I was in the hospital. So I’m not really sure how I ended up below a 90% raw, unless I really bombed the final. I’ll find out in a few days; I just emailed the prof asking for a copy of my exam.

Update: I apparently got a 66% on the final. That explains it.

However, my disappointment in orgo is tempered by the curve in calc, which I genuinely thought I would fail because I’ve been scoring sub-50% on the exams (yikes). I also haven’t been doing the homework. However I taught myself a huge portion of the end of class, which was the hardest stuff: calc of variations. And for that i’m really proud of myself. (I even tried to hire a tutor who’s getting a Ph.D. in mech e and they didn’t understand the stuff.)

Music hum is whatever, I’m honestly not entirely sure why I didn’t get an A since classical music is kind of my thing but I figure it must be because I did pretty horribly on one of the listening reflections. I must have also messed up the final too because we had a pretty heftily weighted essay that I got a near-perfect score on. Idk though I could care less about that class. Just a Core req.

And lastly, maybe the only A I’ve ever gotten in a four-credit course: supervised independent research. As it turns out, getting credit for research is probably the easiest and most effective way to boost your GPA, and I’ll probably be doing it every semester from here on out. I spent every Friday in the lab, and while it was usually 3-6 hours straight, it pales in comparison to the 12 hours a week a typical four-credit course demands. Like, CC? 4 hours a week in class alone, then I’d spend every free second reading the texts and writing daily responses. 

Anyways, that’s my semester for you, academically. I am kind of wondering how I’m supposed to ever get a 4.0 if I can’t even pull an A in orgo, a class I’m retaking and I love, but I’m trying not to let it bother me too much. A Summary of Junior Year and some updates on the Core Review are coming up shortly. Stay tuned~ :)

#columbia journal entry #columbia #ivy league #semester report #college advice #college life #college grades #ivy league grades #Core Curriculum #columbia core

[justalittlemango]

Putting things into perspective.

So.. obviously.. this feels like the worst I’ve felt in a long time or maybe ever. Or, I’m just dissociating like crazy and things feel really wack, but maybe I’ve been through wacker things? I’m not sure. I guess that’s the point of this post to put my thoughts into perspective and compare to past experiences. And with some hope it may make me feel a little more positive about what’s going on right now..

Well, I guess the present moment. Why do I feel wack? I mean, I feel lonely. Even though I’m not, I’m friends with and speaking to quite a few people. Probably the most I’ve ever actually spoken to at any point in my life. So not lonely in terms of friendships, I guess it’s the “love” type of loneliness. Because my boyfriend has gone. I don’t know where. He’s been gone for a while. And it’s affecting me like crazy. Most of this stress and anxiety is being triggered by the thought of him. It all happened quite quickly, a couple months ago he was so clingy and sweet and I’d be the same back. A month after, that all changed completely. It was like the boy I fell in love with had gone. I do blame the meds, but I also blame his lack of accountability. And unfortunately, there were a couple of fallouts, both of us ending up getting hurt. I apologised but got nothing. Nothing at all. Just...ghosted. He came back temporarily for a day or so, but left again. It’s quite wack when someone you felt a new level of love for just disappears.

So yeah.. that’s rough. I’m constantly thinking what he could be doing, how he feels about me and all that. Constantly those thoughts dominate my mind. To the point where it’s disrupted my sleep majorly. I keep stressing in my sleep. Insomnia became a nightly occurrence until I was able to retake control of it more recently. However I’m still waking up in the middle of the night, having distressing dreams, sleep paralysis and all that.. I’m going to assume that’s due to all the stress I’m experiencing. My body doesn’t feel too great either so it’s kind of triggering my health anxiety.

This may also be a part of my seasonal depression because I fucking hate the winter and early dark nights. Feels so depressing. I feel quite isolated. So yes, all those issues in one combination isn’t too great. It doesn’t help that I don’t have a house key here so I can’t really go out early in the day. So I’m stuck inside until it’s night. Oh well, not much I can do anyway.. it is a national lockdown again.. and this lockdown has been the roughest one yet. 10x worse than the one last year. Everything seems so bleak on that front but seems like there may be light at the end of the tunnel soon... I hope.

I think there are some similarities with major negative events I’ve had in the past, such as my first love, when I went to uni in 2016 and whatnot. I mean, the predominant feeling here is loneliness, overthinking and stress. Loneliness always has made me feel ultra shitty in comparison to other things. I hate that I feel lonely since I have so many people to speak to, a lot of friends now.. but it still feels lonely.

So. What’s positive right now? Well.. positive news is that this pandemic seems to be coming to an end (at least here) in a few months. I hope. Positive is that my parents are alive and healthy. I’m currently with my parents right now and I don’t have to worry about money, I don’t have to worry about going grocery shopping or anything like that. I myself, I think, am physically healthy too. My health anxiety tells me otherwise, but I’m trying to just believe it when I feel it yknow? I have friends too that are supporting me. I have a lot of stuff that I would’ve only dreamt of as a kid.. like.. all this technology and a big TV, the only important things to me when I was younger lol.

Money is usually a big stress causer for me, but now I am financially stable and should be good for a while as long as I don’t spend like an idiot. So there’s no need to stress over that at least.

So if I compare this moment to times in the past, maybe I can start being more happy and grateful for what I got right now.

Lets rewind to when I was working as a baker. Having to take a 30 minute train and then a 15 minute bus to the supermarket I worked at. Working those horrid weekend shifts. Having to pick up other people’s pieces because they wouldn’t work as hard as I did. I didn’t like the job mostly because colleagues were lazy and the distance I worked. In all fairness, I hated living in that town. There was nothing to do. It felt trashy and grimey. I hated living there when I decided to move there. I was in a relationship that didn’t feel like it was really working out, but held on anyway. It never did get better really. So.. things in reality weren’t better. It felt nice to get a paycheck. But I remember the stress of public transport, the mixed shifts, not knowing what I’m coming into.. et cetera. So things weren’t as good back then.

Fast forward to summer 2018. I mean, I won’t bother here, summer 2018 was one of the most fun time periods I had. Even winter 2018 was fun despite getting robbed. But it was fun going to Coventry a lot, all the bars/gay clubs around there. Going to Pride. Winning free tickets to Comic Con. Integrating with the Splat community on Twitter, feeling so welcomed and happy. It was the best I had felt for a long time.

Summer 2019. Things got dull! Surprise surprise. Health anxiety was still a new concept to me, so when I did have panic attacks, I would go to A&E. I remember those experiences and how awful it felt, especially just being told it was anxiety. That was a frequent worry for me back then. Another worry was my depression. I felt stuck. Still hated living in that town. Nothing to do. Bored. Working long hours. Not too great pay. Having to cover my colleague and doing that wack warehouse job. Having to deal with annoying customers. The stress of all that would be so bad. I remember being sad because I didn’t have enough time in the day to do my hobbies. Arguing with my ex-bf over who’s doing the dishes and cooking etc. I felt like a zombie in that job. Only thing keeping my head up high was my upcoming trip to Canada, quitting my job, moving out and starting university. I didn’t even really have friends at all back then.. I had my one friend, Drop. I didn’t have anybody else necessarily... imagine that now.. though that has happened at points in 2020 too. So yeah, summer 2019 was arguably worse. Mostly with the situation I was in. Dead end job. Stressed. No time. Hated that town. Lonely.

A bit further back.. September 2016 to Early 2017. This was shit. I hated uni. I didn’t get on with my flatmates. My anxiety held me back so much. I felt like such a mess. I was drinking almost everyday to cope. I blew so much of my money. I didn’t go to any lectures. I felt like a failure because I wasn’t attending. Not making friends either. Just in my room doing jack shit. Relationship didn’t feel great either. So I dropped out a couple months later, found a rather unpleasant message said about me in a group chat, and uh yeah, that made me feel wack XD though.. I can’t blame them, I was isolating myself for legit no reason. I also received lovely news that I had a debt needing to be paid off since I dropped out, and it was one I had to pay instantly. I had no choice but to sign on at the job centre and claim jobseeking welfare. It didn’t go well. I slept over some appointments and got penalised. I then left the jobcentre and extended my overdraft to help cover time for my debts. I then went to a different jobcentre. Took me a couple months but then I got my baker job. I just need to remember how horrible that was. I felt like such a mess. A no-hoper. I was partying and going out with my welfare money and a bit of my ex’s money lol (with him of course!) so yeah. That was an extemely difficult situation to escape. It felt impossible to find a job that wanted me. I was grateful for the job I got. Until it got shitty.

And now... fast forward to 2020. The last time I was at my parents house was summer 2020. It felt really strange coming back here for Christmas with all that happened over the summer. I broke up with my ex-bf. It felt like a relief weirdly. I fell in love with a lad that I felt so heavily for. It went well until we would fall out. He and I did break up around July 2020, and then I met somebody who comforted me and made me feel good. But that didn’t last, since I didn’t “love” him and he did for me. So I ended that around Sept 2020. And then, when I started uni for a couple months, that was also one of the worst times I had. I felt lonely. Lost a lot of the friends I made this year (almost all.) My ex-bf was bringing his lad over and having fun and that made me feel weird. Dealing with being single was stressful. I was drinking to cope once again. And yeahhhh...

How I feel right now is similar to Sept 2020 feels when I started uni. Just stressed. Overthinking. Lonely. Wanting to drink a lot. But I won’t let myself abuse alcohol like that. I think I’m coping well for how shitty I feel.. I mean not all the time I feel like this.. but a lot of days I do. But.. at least I am getting on with my work. I am attempting to do my workouts and my Spanish stuff, as well as my portfolio stuff too. Also keeping up contact with a lot of friends. Pushing myself outside my comfort zone. Not being scared to VC friends anymore. I have come quite a long way.

I just need to fix my sleep. And to do that, I need to stop thinking about him. My brain is just so confused about him. One time I will love and miss him, other time I won’t care and want to meet other people. And I’m not really sure how to maintain a dominant side, if that makes sense? The side I would like to stick to is just thinking he’s a time-waster, he’s ghosting me to try and remain distant and that I should just move on... I try my hardest to keep that in my head, but despite all that, whenever I see old messages or pictures, my soft sensitive side comes out again. I really don’t know how to tackle it. THe thing is, I need to tackle it otherwise I will continue to be stressed and not be able to sleep like a normal human again (and god knows I was a normal human before... smh)

I want to retain my view that he’s no good for me, that I deserve better etc.. but it’s like, the meds messed him up.. but why wasn’t he open about it with me? Why did he get so distant from him.. why did he react so bad to my concerns.. why can’t he communicate with me? And now why is he ghosting me rather than sorting it out? Does he want it sorting? Is he wanting to move on? So many questions and unfortunately I just don’t know. Maybe I need to just put my foot down here.

Easier said than done, but if I put my foot down and keep telling myself I deserve better. Listen to what Drop says, I do deserve better and that he is not well, and that the boy I fell in love with is no longer around. He’s gone. Instead, there is a dark shadow of his former self that is ghosting me. I gotta keep reminding myself that there will be better people out there for me. People who won’t treat me like this. And that, as much as I feel bad that the meds did this to him, I can’t respect how he treated me. He’s made me feel all this shit. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care to reply to me. He made a rude remark about my anxiety in a public forum. He’s manipulative. Think about it.. he’s there, he could easily message me, it takes 5 seconds, but it’s CLEAR as ICE that he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t care to do it. And that should be enough for me to put my foot down and remember that he is no sweetheart. He’s not the Dylan I fell in love with, period.

I think if I keep telling myself this, I can do it. I just need to remind myself that I deserve better. It’s not normal to be treated like this, and that honestly it’s a good thing this all happened before him and I met. On the plus side, I could do something with that £250 I was saving to go see him.. I gotta stop being sensitive. I am way better than this. I gotta remember what my mom said too. Mom always knows better. I was a fighter with all the problems I had when I was younger. I shouldn’t let this present shit bring me down. I’m way better than this!

I’m too good for that kind of treatment. I know my worth. I know my values. And now I know his. And yet here I am losing fucking sleep and stressing over him! Imagine!! Well, I want February to be different. Jan was shit. Feb I hope to be better. I will not think about him as much. I just got to remember that he has disrespected me and treated me like trash. I am no longer going to feel bad. He needs to grow up and take some responsibility. I don’t care if this sounds harsh, this is truly coming from the heart. I know for a fact I didn’t deserve the backlash I got from him. Yeah.. maybe I’ll try that. I should try to avoid the habits I tend to do.. like checking his Discord... or his twitter.. or his Switch activity and that. Avoid looking at my twitter cover also. I wish at this point I could just remove him from my bio and cover but I don’t want to fully break.. or do I? I mean.. how can I hold a relationship with someone who acts like this? So yeah. I need to treat this like a breakup.. an official breakup. And that he and I broke up a month or so ago when he decided to ditch me. I shouldn’t feel bad.

And remember the positives: my parents are alive and healthy, I’m with them right now! And that I don’t have to worry about money. No money problems! Not having to worry about groceries either. All I gotta do is my uni work. Pace myself. And I can try find time to do my workouts and Spanish at some point soon. We gonna have a good time Kurt. 

[tilly-tali]

finished andromeda. i need to chat. hit me up. impressions under the cut.

granted i have never played at release before, i have never encountered so many bugs/glitches in my life. nav points not updating, enemies spawning inside of rocks, un-scanable/non-interactive quest related datapads, and thanks for ruining my movie night group shot peebee! (she was sitting inside of scotty instead of on his lap or beside him - rude!) sometimes even a reload was not enough. luckily the final battle sequence had enough autosave points because that one was the worst.

speaking of last battle, i found it kind of underwhelming/lackluster. maybe it was just the normal setting. but im not usually so good as to need to play hardcore.

as for the ending/overall storyline, i was slightly disappointed. it just seems kinda small now that its all over. like i understand its probably the first in however-long-new series (though with all the negativity i worry the series is at risk, but i hope not!) and that they need to get things established, but it just didnt have that ‘fullness’ that i felt at the end of the original mass effect. yes they needed to leave some doors open for the future storylines, for the dlc’s we know are coming eventually, but some things seem incomplete in a bad way. i know the epilogue is all ‘we have so much more exploring to do’ but what about the ancient ai - which if you saved is missing from sam node if you leave hyperion and come back to meridian after your interview with keri or whatever else. what about the benefactor and the outlaws/collective? my sense of resolution was not achieved, it doesnt feel complete in the way me1 did, or hell even 2.

other things get a little nitpicky:

we had to select m or f shepard in the cc, but the one time shep is mentioned, its neutral and by title only, so what was the point?

i thought we were supposed to be able to customize ryders quarters on the tempest, did they really just mean the ship collection?

the barrage of new emails everytime you went back to the tempest (though this might be due to the way i played in that i never left a planet until i was basically done with all the available quests at the time) and the fact that there was always a cut scene upon entering it, like sometimes i just wanted to get back on my ship, still docked on eos or whatever and just chat up my squadies, check my email, make some new gear. i didn’t need to lift off for that.

i was also disappointed in the designs of the turians and asari (salarians looked amazing though!). some of the coloring on the krogan or their turian like facial markings was also not cool to me. i also think the additions to sloane kelly were a little too much (though i have yet to assess her since the addition of the new patch to see if she was updated). yeah sure shes a battle hardened outlaw queen and should look distinctive, but the heterochromia, plus the space makeup, plus the tats and extensive scarring was maybe overkill, especially since reyes is so freshfaced and generic in comparison. its kinda bioware’s thing though, put crazy makeup on the bad guys (ie tarohne in da2) but still. suvi’s coloration also grates on my nerves: orange hair, pink lips, red suit? ahh. but i am happy addison looks much better after the patch.

and on the patch subject: the new number key prompts for dialogue choice annoy the shit out of me! i mean yes its nice if thats how you like to pick your choices but the numbering order seems weird to me, the fact that they all say [num] execpt for 6 is just strange. and it looks cluttered, especially if youve played almost the whole game without them. numbering them [1] dialogue choice [2] dialogue choice would be so much better.

one thing i do wish for would be a way to ‘pick’ reyes and the collective without letting the sniper hit sloane. like my ryder wouldn’t have let her die like that but he wouldn’t have left her in power either. i wouldn’t have minded if reyes still ends up killing her at some point in that mission, but just not outright with a cheap shot like the one he took.

i also think the favorites/profiles set up was difficult to set up and maneuver. i never got it figured out (kept deleting my favorites or removing profiles) and so i just used the same setting for the whole game. might have gotten more use out of new fancy powers and combos if i had been able to make it work. being able to control squadmate powers for combos might also have been nice, or atleast know they were using a power so i could plan accordingly. i really felt i was doing all the combat work.

ok so i get that all if the above is on the negative side. but its easier to pick out all the stuff i disliked, but i did like it overall. i will be playing more, just maybe a little less than the original series. i should have made a post closer to the beginning of my playthrough, when all things were new and exciting. things i did like:

general game play worked for me.

2 words: jump jets.

liam kosta is my fave. such a sweetie.

everywhere was pretty.

nomad = mako = happy me.

old game references.

ryder is always cute, twin also cute.

banter and sarcasm.

capt dunn is the coolest lady yo.

final memory unlock blew my mind.

getting to play as your twin for all of 30 seconds.

things i have questions on:

is the nexus uprising book worth a read? does it mention the benefactor and/or the general beginning of the initiative?

jien garson is human and the initiative was her idea, yes? how did the other races get involved, did she invite them, want them to join, or was it solely human based originally? did she bring them in on it just for money to keep it going for humanity, prior to the benefactor stepping in?

where is my twin when i return to visit meridian?!?!?! i left her resting in my quarters on the hyperion to go to the nexus for my final interview with keri (which ps she tells you shes going to go to meridan anyways so like why couldnt she have just arrived and i speak to her there on site instead of flying all the way back to the nexus?) and when i come back again, shes no where to be found?!?! like im glad shes up and out of bed and feeling better, but don’t be going off on crazy missions just yet sis!

#mea spoilers #mea thoughts #long post

[niamsuggitt]

The Ides Of July 2017

Hey guys! It’s time once again for The Ides Of, but this is a shorter column than usual. What can I say, it’s summer, there’s less TV on and I’ve been outside at least once. Don’t get me wrong, there’s still some damn good stuff in here,  but there’s notably less.

Part of me feels like I should compensate with a longer, ramblier introduction, but nah, let’s get on with it.

(Is ‘ramblier’ even a word? I don’t think it is. More rambly? No, that’s not right either.)

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Movies

I began the month by watching John Wick: Chapter 2 (Chad Stahelski 2017), which picks up pretty much right where the first film left off, and doesn’t let go for the entire running time. It’s another hugely enjoyable action movie with some fantastic set pieces and a brilliant, central performance from Keanu Reeves. I would probably say it was a step down from Chapter 1, if only because it hits a lot of the same beats and doesn’t come out of nowhere as being surprisingly awesome. I think what makes these films work is the very slow, deliberate world-building that goes on around the rather basic revenge plotlines. John Wick’s world of assassins has a definite fantasy twist to it, and every new rule, every new artefact we see, such as ‘markers’ only asks more questions, and I think that feeling of only just scratching the surface of a mystery is very powerful. It’s why I think the fervour of my fandom for a new world is always at it’s highest right at the start. When every page is a new discovery. In John Wick,  both chapters, every scene is a new discovery. It’s why I’m both excited and nervous about the upcoming John Wick comics (even if they are by the excellent Greg Pak) and the possibility of a TV show. I want things to remain murky here. I mentioned Keanu earlier, but the rest of the cast is also great, with standouts being Ian McShane (of fucking course), Peter Serafinowicz and a very cool Matrix reunion with Reeves and Laurence Fishburne.  These John Wick movies are just a lot of fun, very cool action, strong (albeit, as I said, simple) stories and just that hint of something higher.

I then watched La La Land (Damien Chazelle 2016), finally getting around to one of this year’s big Oscar contenders after months and months of hearing and reading some rather heated debate. Now that we’re a bit removed from all that, I have to say that La La Land is a thoroughly enjoyable movie that deserves a lot of the praise it received and, in my view, not as much criticism. The opening musical sequence is just a delight, a blast of classic Hollywood movie magic in that most prosaic of places… a traffic jam. That sense of old-school big musical carries throughout, and whilst at times I feel like the balance between that and the more modern, plotty scenes is a bit off, it works more than it doesn’t.  All of the musical numbers are excellent, sticking in my head after the film, and I enjoyed how they fit into the story of Seb and Mia, both of whom are interesting, flawed characters with strong performances from Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone. At first I was surprised that Stone won an Oscar here, because it’s not the kind of role that normally wins the big awards, but in a way, that makes it even better. She just sells the whole conceit here so well. One thing I found interesting is that the movie uses the classic Hollywood musical romance style to tell the story of a relationship that doesn’t end up working out. The two main characters aren’t able to live their professional dreams together. They have to sacrifice their being together to be successful in their own fields of acting and Jazz music (speak of the Jazz thing, that whole ‘La La Land white mansplains Jazz’ thing was way overblown, yes, Seb does do that a bit, but 2, 3 scenes later, John Legend’s character disagrees with him, and is shown to be correct!). I am conflicted about that final scene, where they idealise their romance and we see how it ‘could’ have gone. I can’t quite parse the meaning just yet. But overall, La La Land is great, effortlessly charming, with a directorial style and panache that hasn’t been discussed enough I don’t think. I think I definitely need to see ‘Moonlight’ now, just to see how they stack up. La La Land is good for sure, but I can see why others didn’t like it and don’t see it as ‘worthy’. Hopefully we can forget about that now and just appreciate what an experience it is.

And finally, I went to the cinema to see Spider-Man: Homecoming (Jon Watts 2017) and it should be no surprise at this point that I loved it. Not only do I like basically every MCU film, Spider-Man is my overall favourite superhero, so having him get his own story in that universe is just what dreams are made of for this particular dork, particularly after the relative let-down of the Amazing Spider-Man movies. I would probably say that Homecoming isn’t as good as an overall film as the first 2 Raimis (particularly Spider-Man 2), but that MCU connection gives it that extra edge. Think about it, when people talk about what makes Spider-Man so special, it’s pretty much always in comparison to other superheroes. Compared to Captain America and Thor his life’s a mess. A young kid can’t identify with Batman, but they can with Spidey. Superman’s costume shows his face, but Spider-Man’s hides his, so it could be anyone under there! Spider-Man’s charm is that he’s not like other heroes, so, as good as Raimi was, given that Spider-Man is the only hero in those films, that charm is missing. Lest we forget, the very first issue of Amazing Spider-Man sees Spider try, and fail, to join the Fantastic Four. This film follows a similar path, although swap out the FF for the Avengers. Post-Civil War, Peter Parker is desperate to join the Avengers and be like Iron Man. But throughout the course of the film, he, and the audience, realise that isn’t where Spider-Man is supposed to go. He has his own corner of the Marvel Universe. A friendly neighbourhood if you will! Basically everything in this movie works. I’ll start first by saying that Tom Holland is pretty much perfect. He showed that already in Civil War, but man, he doesn’t drop the ball here. He is funny, endearing, clever and heroic. Basically, he is Spider-Man. The cameos from Robert Downey Jnr’s Tony Stark are just enough, and the way other Avengers make their presence known is just hilarious. I thought Michael Keaton was brilliant as The Vulture, making the character understandable but also very menacing. But of course, with Spider-Man, it’s not just about the superhero action, but also about the personal drama, and I think Homecoming does the best of any adaptation at nailing Peter Parker’s home-life. The scenes between Peter and (the still disarmingly hot) Aunt May are great, hinting at the tragedy that binds them, but not dragged down by them. All of the high school stuff and characters are fantastic, feeling like the best combination of the classic Lee/Ditko days and the more modern, Ultimate Spider-Man. I mean, Ned is basically just Miles Morales’ best friend Ganke (speaking of Miles, loved the reference to him with Donald Glover’s character) and the new spins given to Liz, Flash Thompson, Betty Brant and MJ are great.   I really loved Zendaya’s performance as ‘Michelle’ here, she’s a different kind of love interest, in that she barely is one at all! She came out of nowhere to be perhaps the funniest character in the film. And man, is it funny, that’s another thing Homecoming delivers where other films perhaps didn’t, the humour. The MCU is always comedic, but this is taken to another level. Can you tell I really liked this movie? I watched it after a tough week personally, and it really turned things around. Spider-Man has always taught me a lot about how to live my life, and it’s great that he continues to do so. I hope Tom Holland is inspiring a new generation of kids.

Television

Given that it’s Summah, there’s not as much TV as there usually is, but what there is to talk about is good stuff. The only returning show for me at the moment is Preacher (AMC) which is back with one hell of a bang. This second season has the series feeling a lot more confident, both in it’s ability to stick closer to the comics now that we’ve left Annville behind, but also in how it deviates from the source material. Whilst I enjoyed Season 1, Preacher really should be a road trip story, and that element is front and centre, as Jesse, Tulip and Cassidy search across America for God. Not only are they being followed by the Saint Of Killers, but recent episodes have begun to introduce my favourite antagonists from the comics, Herr Starr and The Grail. The fact that their introduction has been somewhat surprising is a sign of how good this show can be. It is familiar, but also able to give me something new. I said this a lot last year, but whilst the story may differ, the tone of this show is pure uncut Ennis and Dillon, and that’s hard to beat. The opening sequence of the Season Premiere was just the perfect mix of comedy, gross-out and violence. It blew me away. I continue to love the central performances from Dominic Cooper, Ruth Negga and Joe Gilgun. I don’t think any of them are likely to get Awards consideration, but they deserve it for me. The only real negative for me so far this season has been the Eugene/Arseface storyline, where we see what he’s up to in Hell. I get what they were trying to do, but making Hitler a sympathetic character doesn’t really work. It just felt like the wrong kind of ‘offensive’ for Preacher. But the sequences showing Eugene reliving his worst memory were some of the best the show has done. Preacher is a series that’s not for everyone, but as a fan of the comics, I really enjoy it a lot, Rogen and Goldberg continue to grow and evolve the show, and it’s really very exciting.

I also watched 2 Netflix originals in their entireties. First was Five Came Back (Netflix), a 3-part documentary series about the filmmaking exploits of 5 famous Hollywood Directors during WW2; John Ford, William Wyler, John Huston, Frank Capra and George Stevens. The series uses a lot of fascinating archival footage, and also pairs each of the 5 with a modern director; Steven Spielberg, Francis Ford Coppola, Guillermo Del Toro, Lawrence Kasan and Paul Greengrass. I found this to be a fantastic, powerful documentary, which made me look at not just these individual directors differently, but also see cinema as a whole and WW2 in a new light. The first episode is a little slow, introducing us to the 5 men’s lives before the War, but the later episodes are on a whole other level, and just blew me away with the footage they shot. One thing that really brings it home is the fact that a lot of what, particularly Ford and Stevens shot, was in colour. You don’t often see WW2 in colour, but it made it feel so much more real and effective. The football of Dachau concentration camp in colour was particularly harrowing. You just don’t expect to see that in colour. It was incredibly powerful and you really see why, after his experiences, George Stevens felt he was no longer able to direct comedy films, and instead only did drama from then on. It changed him so deeply. One thing that’s particularly cool about this series is that Netflix have also put a lot of the propaganda films the Directors made on the site as well. I haven’t watched any yet, but I am intrigued. It’s certainly made me more interested in their wider careers. I’ve seen most of Ford and Capra’s big pictures, but the likes of Wyler, Huston (who I know more as an actor) and Stevens I don’t think I’ve see any films of. If anyone can show me how I can see ‘The Best Years Of Our Lives’ in the UK, let me know, it looks like a fantastic counter piece to ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’. If you have any interest in the golden age of Cinema or WW2, you have to watch this series, it is a superb examination of both.

Over the space of just about 3 weeks I watched every episode of GLOW (Netflix), which really is fantastic. Given that I like the bastard art form that is professional wrestling, I was already pre-disposed to liking this series, but it transcends that to become a top quality series in it’s own right that, actually acts as a fantastic explanation of why ‘sports entertainment’ works. If you have any friends or family that don’t quite get it, I think GLOW, rather than any 5-star match or amazing promo will help you explain. Over the course of 10 episodes GLOW introduces some truly fantastic characters, delivers some brilliantly funny moments and also provides enough depth and drama so as not to be ridiculous. The way the series plays with stereotypes is just excellent, as pretty much everyone defies your expectations. The central performances from Alison Brie, Marc Maron and Betty Gilpin are the standouts, but really, everyone is good. I was very surprised to see UK pop star Kate Nash appear as Rhonda. I had no idea she could even act, but she was hilarious in all her scenes. It was also great to see Knives Chau from Scott Pilgrim, Ellen Wong appear, and as a fan of the much maligned 3rd season of Veronica Mars and poor Piz, Chris Lowell was fun as Bash. But the main thing here is Brie, whose Ruth is just one of the great modern TV protagonists. She manages to be both sympathetic and also an awful person at times, and it was great to see her slowly get her confidence back as she develops the ‘Zoya The Destroya’ persona. Her Russian heel accent is so damn good. One thing I liked is that the show treated Wrestling seriously, and that the matches we do see were kind of good, by 80s standards. It was great to see so many cameos from real wrestlers, the likes of Johnny Mundo, Tyrus, Carlito, Joey Ryan, Alex Riley (surprisingly good? How did this happen, he was so bad!), Kazarian and Daniels and of course, Awesome Kong/Kharma, who plays the biggest role in the series. GLOW is just a fun ride from start to finish, and I think it’s probably the best paced Netflix show I’ve watched. Most of their shows, as much as I enjoy them, tend to lag in the middle, but with this? I could have easily watched 3, 4 more episodes. Perhaps it’s the 1980s setting? Both this and Stranger Things kept the pace. I can’t wait for a second season, and man, if WWE knows what they’re doing, they should try and get some of the stars of GLOW to appear at Summerslam a la Stephen Amell. I mean, Smackdown already has a sexy Russian villain and a heroic champion who literally feels the Glow. It makes almost too much sense.

Now for some quick hits!

The 2-part iZombie (The CW) was really excellent, and set the series up for a very different 4th season next year. Zombies are now public knowledge, and a significant proportion of Seattle’s population are now Zombies. This is what the series has sort of been building to all along, but I don’t know if I ever actually expected it to happen. Now that it has, I am very excited to see what it will be like. Part of me will miss the classic dynamic of eating brains and solving crimes, but I have faith that the writers can keep the sense of humour and we won’t lose what makes the show fun.

The finale of American Gods (Starz) was very strong, particularly for an amazing Ian McShane monologue, the appearance of several Jesuses (Jesi?) and another brilliantly stylish flashback sequence focusing on Bilquis, but man, 8 episodes was too short a season, I feel like Fuller and Green have only just gotten started! Part of me thinks I should re-read Gaiman’s novel before Season 2, but I also like the fact that my memory is so hazy, it means I can still be surprised, like Preacher. These 2 shows actually have quite a few similarities now that I think about it.

Silicon Valley (HBO) ended it’s 4th season with the departure of one the main characters, Ehrlich Bachman, and I have to say it was bittersweet. I will mis T.J. Miller’s scene-stealing performance, but they way he left? Just abandoned by Gavin in Tibet to do drugs? It was so damn funny. I hope the series will be as strong without him, I think it might actually help them shake things up a bit and allow the plot to progress a bit more, because whilst this series is always funny, Season 4 did feel a bit like ‘2 steps forward, 1 step back’ at times.

The last few episodes of Veep (HBO) Season 6 were a bit like that too, although probably intentionally? Especially given that the finale featured flashbacks to throughout Selina’s political career. I am wary of her running for President again, but at this point I could watch these actors do anything, they are so funny, and I think that David Mandel and his writers, whilst different from Iannucci, have a firm handle on them. Veep is just a comedic classic at this point, and if a Presidential comedy can still be funny in the age of Trump, it really is good.

Music

Two albums to talk about this month, and both a returns for recent favourites of mine. First up is How Did We Get So Dark? (Warner Bros. Records 2017), the second album from Royal Blood. With this record, the Brighton two-piece don’t exactly reinvent the wheel, once more delivering 10 blistering rock tracks in the space of about 35 minutes. But when the wheel you’ve already got is so damn good, then it doesn’t really matter does it? This is another great collection of rock songs, that hit hard and stick in your memory. Given that this is reportedly a break-up album, the subject matter of the songs is probably a little darker than the self-titled debut, but with Royal Blood, the lyrics tend not to matter as much as the feel of the song, of the bass and the drums just kicking in your face. I would say my my favourite song on here is probably ‘Hook, Line And Sinker’, but the title track is also great, and really, they’re all excellent. I suppose it would have been interesting to see what a more experimental Royal Blood album would be like, but for now, I’m fine with a bit more of their formula. If they haven’t changed after 2 or 3 more albums, then I’ll be worried.

Public Service Broadcasting’s Every Valley (PIAS Recordings 2017) does however represent a rather big evolution for the band in question, as they are now no longer sampling old films and documentaries, but actually feature some singing! This record is another concept album, with the band once again examining an area of history. One might think that Welsh Mining would be nowhere near as exciting as ‘The Race For Space’, but it turns out it is, and, in my opinion at least, makes for a better album, their best yet. Given the current surge in left-wing politics in this country, this is now a very timely album and one that has resonated with me a lot. One of my great-grandfathers was a miner, albeit not in Wales, so there’s that personal connection too. The mines allowed so many working class people to provide for their families, and that allowed subsequent generations to prosper, leading to my generation of the family being far more middle class and comfortable. When the mines and other industries were gone, I think Britain lost that social mobility, and we need to bring that back. Enough politics though, what about the music? It’s fantastic, with PSB’s familiar excellent musicianship married not only with iconic, memorable samples, but as I said, also with some original singing from some great guest-stars, such as Tracyanne Campbell from Camera Obscura and James Dean Bradfield of The Manic Street Preachers. However I think the best song features singing from the band itself, as J. Willgoose Esq himself duets with Lisa Jen Brown on the heartbreaking ‘You + Me’. That song is just wonderful even outside of the concept. It has extra meaning because of the other songs around it, but can stand alone I think. The same can also be said for the final track, ‘Take Me Home’, which features a resounding chorus from a real Welsh men’s choir. The last few tracks here, after the strikes and after the mines have been shuttered just wreck me. I almost cried when I first heard them. This is just a wonderful album, from a brilliant band that always impress and look to do new things. They could easily be a novelty, gimmick band, but this shows they are so much more.

Books

Not to toot my own horn too much, but sometimes I can be an astute, intuitive motherfucker. Last month, when talking about Moonglow (2016) by Michael Chabon, I wrote that it reminded me a lot of Gravity’s Rainbow. Well, only a few pages later… Chabon brings up that book in the text! That brought a real smile to my face, as did the rest of this novel, as well as a fair few tears. Chabon’s depiction of his grandfather’s life comes together very well, telling a fascinating story about some very interesting people. The revelation of just what Chabon’s grandmother’s secret was blew me away, especially in the rather nonchalant way it was explained. It wasn’t some big bomb-shell (this book has enough literal ones of those!) but a slow unravelling. Like I said, it was emotional, and I can only imagine what it was like for Michael Chabon and his family to discover and for him to write about. This is a very strong book from a brilliant writer, yes, it’s a deeply personal story about his family, but I think the themes brought up are applicable to almost anyone. It certainly made me reflect on my relationships with my parents and particularly my grandparents. All 4 of them are dead now, but I certainly feel like I should speak to my Dad and Aunts and Uncles to get a better sense of where I come from.

I’m currently reading Dorian Lynskey’s 33 Revolutions Per Minute: A History Of Protest Songs (2010), which is, as the title would suggest, a history of protest music throughout the 20th century. Lynskey writes about 33 songs and how they reflected and even formed social change. This is a very interesting read, and in these politically tumultuous times, one that feels very vital, even if it is 7 years old. One thing that I appreciate here is the breadth of songs Lynskey chooses to write about. Some of them are very familiar to me, like ‘Strange Fruit’ or ‘Give Peace A Chance’ and others I’ve never heard of! I’m excited to find out more, and luckily, every song in this book apart from one is on Apple Music, so I’ve been able to compile a playlist so after reading a chapter I can listen to the actual song. I’m currently just getting up to the 1970s, with the next chapter to read being ‘The Revolution Will Not Be Televised’ by Gil Scott-Heron, which is just a classic. Of course, this book is more than just a music book, and instead reflects the changes in Western, particularly American, society.  A lot of these early chapters are about Civil Rights, and then Vietnam. From reading the contents,  that’s going to evolve into Gay Rights, and feminism, and many other causes. Every chapter teaches me something new, not just about the musicians, but about the protest movements themselves. The only negative thing really is that reading this book has shone a light on the fact that our current political climate is sorely missing any good protest songs. The final chapter in this book is Green Day’s ‘American Idiot’, and that song is nearly 15 years old! I think it’s because the left is so much more cynical nowadays, when we see a song with a ‘message’, we dismiss it as preachy and smug? That’s certainly what I tend to think,  but then again, I do like a lot of the songs in this book! I suppose if he did an update Lynskey could write about ‘Oooohhhh, Jeremy Corbyn’ to the tune of Seven Nation Army? That’s about as close as we get these days.

Games

Much to my shame, I have barely had any time for video games this month. I haven’t even touched Zelda! I am a failure to the people of Hyrule. I hope they'll forgive me. I have however still been playing Mario Kart 8 Deluxe (Nintendo Switch) when I have a spare half an hour or so. I’ve been playing it in Hand-Held Mode this time, and it is just so awesome to be playing a hand-held Mario Kart Game with such awesome graphics. I can remember playing the shit out of Mario Kart Super Circuit on the Gameboy Advance, and this is bringing back fond memories… only it’s 100 times better and bigger. One thing that I think is going to increase my playing time going forward is that I’ve just picked up a Switch Carry Case. Now I’ll have nothing to worry about in putting it in my bag and gaming on the go. Now that I have this case, I think I’ll start using the Switch to it’s full potential and perhaps actually get on with Zelda once more.

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So that’s your lot, I hope you enjoyed it. I must admit that even though this was shorter than normal, writing this was a bit like pulling teeth!

Hopefully next month will be easier, especially because Game Of Thrones is back! Oh man, I’m excited for that.

#The Ides Of #July #2017 #Movies #John Wick: Chapter 2 #La La Land #Spider-Man: Homecoming #Television #Five Came Back #iZombie #American Gods #GLOW #Silicon Valley #Veep #Preacher #Music #Royal Blood #Public Service Broadcasting #Books #Michael Chabon #Dorian Lynskey #Games #Nintendo #Switch #Mario Kart 8 Deluxe