#UNPRECEDENTED! COMPLETELY UNHEARD OF!

[dissentersrising]

GUNFIRE OR FIREWORKS, IT’S A LIGHTSHOW EITHER WAY!

#flight rising #fr #frfanart #/etc/art time #IMAGINE THAT! 2B DREW ONE OF THEIR NOT-FANDRAGONS #UNPRECEDENTED! COMPLETELY UNHEARD OF!

[sixteenseveredhands]

Strange Bedfellows: these unprecedented photos show a leafcutter bee sharing its nest with a wolfspider

I stumbled across these photos while I was looking up information on leafcutter bees, and I just thought that this was too cool not to share. Captured by an amateur photographer named Laurence Sanders, the photos were taken in Queensland, Australia, several years ago, and they've garnered the attention of various entomologists and arachnologists around the world.

The leafcutter bee (Megachile macularis) can be seen fetching freshly-cut leaves, which she uses to line the inner walls of her nest. The wolfspider moves aside as the bee approaches, allowing her to enter the nest, and then simply watches as the leaf is positioned along the inner wall.

Once the leaf is in position, they seem to inspect the nest together, sitting side-by-side in the entryway; the bee then eventually flies off to gather more leaves, while the wolfspider climbs back into the burrow.

The bee seems completely at ease in the presence of the wolfspider, which is normally a voracious predator, and the spider seems equally unfazed by the fact that it shares its burrow with an enormous bee.

The photographer came across this shared burrow unexpectedly, and he then captured the images over the course of about 2 days (these are just a few of the photos that were taken). During that 2-day period, the bee was seen entering the nest with pieces of foliage dozens of times, gradually constructing the walls and brood chambers of its nest, and the spider was clearly occupying the same burrow, but they did not exhibit any signs of aggression toward one another.

The photos have been examined by various entomologists and arachnologists, and those experts seem ubiquitously surprised by the behavior that the images depict. The curator of entomology at Victoria Museum, Dr. Ken Walker, noted that this may be the very first time that this behavior has ever been documented, while Dr. Robert Raven, an arachnid expert at the Queensland Museum, described it as a "bizarre" situation.

This arrangement is completely unheard of, and the images are a fascinating sight to behold.

Sources & More Info:

Brisbane Times: The Odd Couple: keen eye spies bee and spider bedfellows in 'world-first'

iNaturalist: Megachile macularis

#entomology #arachnology #leafcutter bee #wolfspider #symbiosis #cool animals #cool bugs #bees #spiders #nature #cute #insects #arachnids #australia #props to the photographer #laurence sanders #this is a cute couple #but their babies would be terrifying

[whatcha-reading-today]

Fanfic spotlight: Intern the Sixth | apocalypticTaco

This is so fucking funny and such a good time--especially if you're waiting for Alecto... I am having the best time reading this story because I love Camilla and Pal (who doesn't, though?) and all of the grief Gideon dumps on Harrow. It's a great time, super fun in its writing style--love the epistolary nature.

See the fic here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46868482/chapters/118058461

Fandom: The Locked Tomb Series

Main characters: Camilla Hect, Palamedes Sextus, Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Gideon Nav

Author's description:

ADDRESSING THE HEIR TO THE NINTH HOUSE, OR PRESUMED EQUIVALENT: PALAMEDES SEXTUS, HEIR TO THE SIXTH HOUSE, PRESENTS HIS COMPLIMENTS TO THE NINTH AND REQUESTS A FORMAL ARRANGEMENT WHEREIN HIS MASTER WARDEN AND CAVALIER APPRENTICESHIP UNDER THE NINTH FOR FOUR YEARS IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SIXTH’S SERVICES.

*Details to be discussed. Please turn to back page.

Timeframe variable. Services and agreements variable upon the Ninth's request. An internship of this caliber is highly unprecedented and likely unheard of, but any information valuable to the Ninth and into the Tomb will remain undisclosed upon request; Primary experience and study is required as the Master Warden has already decided upon such being his final thesis prior to his end studies.

No takebacks, no denials. Pleased to meet you.

Palamedes Sextus, Heir to the Sixth and Master Warden

and

Camilla the Sixth, Cavalier Primary and Warden's Hand of the Library

TO THE MASTER WARDEN:

FORMALLY REJECTED.

Rating: T

Wordcount: 41,041

Complete: No

#gideon the ninth #the locked tomb #fanfic rec #apocalypticTaco

[fyrets]

I know this is a PB blog that has been very VERY open about their support of the project, so it would be uncouth to say anything negative about it but I'm thinking about how extremely unprecedented PB is in.. a way that isn't necessarily bad but, weirdly off-putting when thinking about it.

this got long so under the cut it goes

PB is the most funded petsim on Kickstarter. It raised over $80,000. That's an incredible achievement, and they absolutely deserve it! But that already puts it in an incredibly unprecedented position. Petsims using crowdfunding platforms for their projects is already pretty uncommon all things considered, at least historically in the grand scheme of things where most are just passion projects made in the spare time of a handful of people. many of them manage to stick around through the sheer force of will a dedicated userbase can bring, but most stay pretty small and more completely fade into obscurity. And that's fine, y'know? A little sad for the ones that go dark, but it is what it is.

But ever since FR's success I think a lot of people have almost forgotten that a petsim becoming a smash hit isn't the norm, or at least they don't realize just how uncommon it is and how much work goes into making something as successful as FR past the KS stage. probably the most notable examples are Dappervolk (the previous holder of the "most funded petsim" title) and Lorwolf (most recent KS funded game that is quite derivative of FR to launch).

Now Dappervolk is a bit of an outlier by virtue of it being a pretty different game to the typical petsim and it being more of an avatar game but yeah yeah yeah everyone around me at the time called it a petsim so I'm counting it. It's pretty well known that it had a very strong start with a pretty big playerbase during beta and launch, but people lost interest rather quickly for a lot of reasons. I'm admittedly out of the loop for those reasonings (my reason for dumping DV was I Just Forgor) but from what I've heard it was a combination of the gacha system, heavy grind, and some paywalled monthly content. Now I have heard that it has gotten better recently, but I wouldn't know myself and it still hasn't recovered the numbers it once had.

Lorwolf is a much more relevant point of comparison both because of recency (fully launched earlier this year) and it operates a lot more like FR in many aspects like having limited color slots, a wheel of pre-selected colors, and a bunch of other little stuff, making it a more direct competitor to FR. I didn't find out about LW until after the beta period but I was managed to sign up for the "Early Access" it had, and it was pretty good! Spirits were very high and though the full launch got delayed, when it came around it made a big impact. Much like DV did in its launch, lots of people rushed to cross-site trade their FR stuff for LW, indicating a lot of confidence for the game and its future. Unfortunately, things aren't looking good now 6 months out from full launch. There is a lot to consider when assessing how we've gotten to this point of very low morale, but I guess the biggest thing would be the community having to deal with feelings of being unheard and abandoned as a result of very inexperienced developers. I genuinely hope things turn up sometime soon, but I'm not sure for how long I can keep that hope.

So what am I getting at with all of this? Am I expecting PB to fall a similar fate of having a very big beta and launch only to bleed players months later as a result of people either realizing the game doesn't suit their playstyle or because the game is seemingly abandoned with radio silence from devs? No! I have a lot of hope for PB to deliver a game that has something for everyone, and based on how well they've handled communication along with knowing so far I doubt we would be left in the dark. Despite my hope though, the odds are stacked against PB having the same level of success as FR.

But what if it does manage it? What if PB manages to be a smash hit and it stays a smash hit? What lessons will the people who hope to make their own games take from it? Will their takeaway be that this game was successful because it made the most money ever (and got additional investment!)? Or will people try to see what commonalities it and FR had and try to do the same? Will we see more projects try and fail to achieve success? Or will they manage to crack some kind of code and join the ranks of giants? Just what sort of impact will PB have?

#long post #meow.txt #idk if this makes any sense i've just been thinking about this since. well since the ks campaign ended actually. #and its been stewing more considering lorwolf's.. situation. #like i hope we eat well! i definitely do! but man. what will this mean for future projects #only good things i hope.

[opera-ghosts]

OTD in Music History: Joannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart (1756 – 1791) dies in Vienna, at the age of just 35. Mozart had originally fallen ill in Prague back in early September, although he continued to perform his professional functions for some time (including conducted the premiere of “The Magic Flute” on September 30). By the end of November, however, he was bedridden and suffering from full-body swelling, intense pain, and nausea. The cause of this final illness remains speculative. Mozart was nursed in his last days by his wife and her youngest sister, and, even at that stage, he was still attempting to finish his celebrated Requiem – although contrary to popular legend, there is little evidence that he actually dictated passages to his student Franz Xavier Sussmayr (who completed it after Mozart’s death) from his deathbed. Mozart was interred in a common grave. Once again, contrary to myth, the tale of a storm and snow is false; the day was actually calm and mild. It is also important to note that that term "common grave" had a very specific meaning in 1790’s Vienna: In accordance with recently-passed legislation, it simply meant an individual grave for a non-aristocrat that was subject to excavation after ten years in order to clear out room within the cemetery. Moreover, the state-enforced modesty of his funeral did not reflect Mozart’s standing with the wider public as an artist; memorial concerts were quickly planned in both Vienna and Prague, and they were extremely well-attended. The decades following Mozart’s death also saw an unprecedented wave of posthumous enthusiasm (a phenomenon previously unheard of in musical history) as publishers vied to produce complete editions of his output. PICTURED: A first edition of the first comprehensive full-length biography of Mozart ever printed (1828). This was actually a joint work by Mozart’s widow, Constanze (1762 – 1842), and her second husband, George Nikolaus Nissen. (Highlighting Mozart's enduring popularity, Nissen’s tombstone designates him as "the husband of Mozart's widow.”) This book includes an engraving of the famous c. 1780 Mozart family portrait.

#Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart #Mozart #Classical period #composer #classical music #classical composer #Symphony #Concerto #Chamber music #Opera #bel canto #Choir #chorus #Choral music #conductor #Requiem #Don Giovanni

[beardedmrbean]

It was a small trial, just 18 rectal cancer patients, every one of whom took the same drug.

But the results were astonishing. The cancer vanished in every single patient, undetectable by physical exam; endoscopy; positron emission tomography, or PET scans; or MRI scans.

Dr. Luis A. Diaz Jr. of Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center, an author of a paper published Sunday in the New England Journal of Medicine describing the results, which were sponsored by drug company GlaxoSmithKline, said he knew of no other study in which a treatment completely obliterated a cancer in every patient.

Sign up for The Morning newsletter from the New York Times

“I believe this is the first time this has happened in the history of cancer,” Diaz said.

Dr. Alan P. Venook, a colorectal cancer specialist at the University of California, San Francisco, who was not involved with the study, said he also thought this was a first.

A complete remission in every single patient is “unheard-of,” he said.

These rectal cancer patients had faced grueling treatments — chemotherapy, radiation and, most likely, life-altering surgery that could result in bowel, urinary and sexual dysfunction. Some would need colostomy bags.

They entered the study thinking that, when it was over, they would have to undergo those procedures because no one really expected their tumors to disappear.

But they got a surprise: No further treatment was necessary.

“There were a lot of happy tears,” said Dr. Andrea Cercek, an oncologist at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center and a co-author of the paper, which was presented Sunday at the annual meeting of the American Society of Clinical Oncology.

Another surprise, Venook added, was that none of the patients had clinically significant complications.

On average, 1 in 5 patients have some sort of adverse reaction to drugs like the one the patients took, dostarlimab, known as checkpoint inhibitors. The medication was given every three weeks for six months and cost about $11,000 per dose. It unmasks cancer cells, allowing the immune system to identify and destroy them.

While most adverse reactions are easily managed, as many as 3% to 5% of patients who take checkpoint inhibitors have more severe complications that, in some cases, result in muscle weakness and difficulty swallowing and chewing.

The absence of significant side effects, Venook said, means that “either they did not treat enough patients or, somehow, these cancers are just plain different.”

In an editorial accompanying the paper, Dr. Hanna K. Sanoff of the University of North Carolina’s Lineberger Comprehensive Cancer Center, who was not involved in the study, called it “small but compelling.” She added, though, that it is not clear if the patients are cured.

“Very little is known about the duration of time needed to find out whether a clinical complete response to dostarlimab equates to cure,” Sanoff said in the editorial.

Dr. Kimmie Ng, a colorectal cancer expert at Harvard Medical School, said that while the results were “remarkable” and “unprecedented,” they would need to be replicated.

The inspiration for the rectal cancer study came from a clinical trial Diaz led in 2017 that Merck, the drugmaker, funded. It involved 86 people with metastatic cancer that originated in various parts of their bodies. But the cancers all shared a gene mutation that prevented cells from repairing damage to DNA. These mutations occur in 4% of all cancer patients.

Patients in that trial took a Merck checkpoint inhibitor, pembrolizumab, for up to two years. Tumors shrank or stabilized in about one-third to one-half of the patients, and they lived longer. Tumors vanished in 10% of the trial’s participants.

That led Cercek and Diaz to ask: What would happen if the drug were used much earlier in the course of disease, before the cancer had a chance to spread?

They settled on a study of patients with locally advanced rectal cancer — tumors that had spread in the rectum and sometimes to the lymph nodes but not to other organs. Cercek had noticed that chemotherapy was not helping a portion of patients who had the same mutations that affected the patients in the 2017 trial. Instead of shrinking during treatment, their rectal tumors grew.

Perhaps, Cercek and Diaz reasoned, immunotherapy with a checkpoint inhibitor would allow such patients to avoid chemotherapy, radiation and surgery.

Diaz began asking companies that made checkpoint inhibitors if they would sponsor a small trial. They turned him down, saying the trial was too risky. He and Cercek wanted to give the drug to patients who could be cured with standard treatments. What the researchers were proposing might end up allowing the cancers to grow beyond the point at which they could be cured.

“It is very hard to alter the standard of care,” Diaz said. “The whole standard-of-care machinery wants to do the surgery.”

Finally, a small biotechnology firm, Tesaro, agreed to sponsor the study. Tesaro was bought by GlaxoSmithKline, and Diaz said he had to remind the larger company that they were doing the study — company executives had all but forgotten about the small trial.

Their first patient was Sascha Roth, then 38. She first noticed some rectal bleeding in 2019 but otherwise felt fine — she is a runner and helps manage a family furniture store in Bethesda, Maryland.

During a sigmoidoscopy, she recalled, her gastroenterologist said, “Oh no. I was not expecting this!”

The next day, the doctor called Roth. He had had the tumor biopsied. “It’s definitely cancer,” he told her.

“I completely melted down,” she said.

Soon, she was scheduled to start chemotherapy at Georgetown University, but a friend had insisted she first see Dr. Philip Paty at Memorial Sloan Kettering. Paty told her he was almost certain her cancer included the mutation that made it unlikely to respond well to chemotherapy. It turned out, though, that Roth was eligible to enter the clinical trial. If she had started chemotherapy, she would not have been.

Not expecting a complete response to dostarlimab, Roth had planned to move to New York for radiation, chemotherapy and possibly surgery after the trial ended. To preserve her fertility after the expected radiation treatment, she had her ovaries removed and put back under her ribs.

After the trial, Cercek gave her the news.

“We looked at your scans,” she said. “There is absolutely no cancer.” She did not need any further treatment.

“I told my family,” Roth said. “They didn’t believe me.”

But two years later, she still does not have a trace of cancer.

#nunyas news #someone needs to leak the data on this one #before a lab fire or computer virus #destroys it

[kabutoliker]

24/tender w/ any ship of ur choice!!!!

ok well u said ANY SHIP so it's kabusaya not sorry lol. you asked for it by giving me this freedom.

Domestic bliss wasn’t common between Kabuto and Sayato. Their relationship hadn’t been the best. Animosity was there from the very beginning of when Sayato was brought into the scheme of things, and it was very mutual. Their spats made Karin and Suigetsu look calm and sane in comparison.

But it wasn’t unheard of either, especially as of late. Many nights in secret lairs with nothing but each other’s company, boredom, and plentiful booze got them opening up to one another about things they wouldn’t have been telling the other sober. And maybe stirring up some other feelings as well.

Sayato wasn’t the best at holding his liquor, never has been. His first time drunk was after a successful ANBU mission way back when. He thinks he was about 15 or 16. It was so many years ago, things were a blur, and he couldn’t be assed to remember his fed arc. He remembers making a complete fool of himself back then and swearing off the stuff, but after disavowing the village, he’s softened his stance on it, and even moreso since Orochimaru is far too busy for him anymore to keep being a mental distraction from how fucked his life ended up.

Kabuto on the other hand was a little better at tolerating the buzz than Sayato. Sure, his inhibitions were lowered, and sure, he was opening up about more personal matters to the guy he’s been mutually bullying since he practically got here, but he wasn’t the type to get all flirty while drunk unlike the brunette who can’t keep his hands off of the medical-nin. Granted, some of it was because he was having a hard time sitting up straight without anything else to keep him propped up. But it wasn’t like Kabuto was gonna peel Sayato away from him either. Having the former Leaf ninja resting against his chest with an arm wrapped around him was far better than fighting and arguing over pointless shit, Kabuto thought.

Sayato wasn’t fully asleep, but he definitely had that worn-out look on his face accompanied by those soft, slow blinks one gives out when they’re about to conk out. He’d probably regret everything in the morning- like he usually does. And he avoids any mentions of anything when he’s sobered up. But this unprecedented softness, this tenderness, something that he hadn’t experienced for years was something the touch-starved ninja missed. And something that he kept coming back to mentally no matter how much he tried to avoid it.

#this was supposed to be a 'micro' story lol whoops #im not sorry tho you made your bed #kabusaya #sayato #not tagging kabuto #why it so long i didn't mean for it to me. #to be. #whatever #its almost 1 am #my writing #long post #maybe? #idk

[ai-video-generator-indonesian]

Transform Narratives in Indonesian: Ai Indonesian Video Generator by Simplified - Free Online

In the rich tapestry of Indonesia's cultural landscape, storytelling has always held a revered place, serving as a vessel for preserving traditions, sharing knowledge, and fostering connections across generations. Now, propelled by the relentless march of technological innovation, a new chapter unfolds in the realm of narrative creation with the "Transform Narratives in Indonesian" platform. This groundbreaking online tool, powered by advanced AI technology and presented in a simplified format, offers an unprecedented avenue for reshaping narratives, amplifying voices, and celebrating the diverse tapestry of Indonesian culture – all at the fingertips of creators, completely free of charge.

At its core, the platform embodies the fusion of artificial intelligence and Indonesian storytelling traditions, seamlessly weaving together visuals, music, and text to craft immersive video narratives. From the verdant rice fields of Java to the majestic temples of Borobudur, each video generated by the platform is imbued with the essence of Indonesian heritage, capturing the intricacies and nuances that define the nation's cultural identity. Whether it's recounting ancient myths, exploring contemporary issues, or showcasing everyday moments of life, the platform empowers creators to breathe life into their narratives with unparalleled authenticity and depth.

What sets this platform apart is its commitment to simplicity and accessibility. In a landscape often dominated by complex video editing software, the platform stands as a beacon of user-friendliness, welcoming creators of all backgrounds and skill levels. With an intuitive interface and straightforward navigation, users can effortlessly navigate the platform's features, customizing their videos with ease. Whether you're a seasoned storyteller or a novice content creator, the platform provides the tools and resources needed to unleash your creativity and share your message with the world.

Central to the platform's appeal is its extensive library of AI-generated content templates, meticulously crafted to cater to a diverse array of storytelling needs. From captivating documentaries to heartwarming narratives, each template serves as a canvas for creators to express their unique perspectives and narratives. With a plethora of customization options at their disposal, users can tailor every aspect of their videos to suit their creative vision, from selecting background music to adjusting visual effects.

Moreover, the platform's commitment to democratizing storytelling extends beyond its user-friendly interface. As a free online tool, it breaks down barriers to entry, ensuring that creativity knows no bounds. Whether you're a student, educator, filmmaker, or community organizer, access to this powerful video generation tool is just a click away. By empowering individuals from all walks of life to share their stories, the platform fosters a culture of inclusivity and diversity, amplifying voices that might otherwise go unheard.

Furthermore, the platform serves as a catalyst for collaboration and community engagement. Through its social sharing features, users can easily connect with like-minded creators, collaborate on projects, and share their creations with a wider audience. Whether it's collaborating on educational initiatives, promoting cultural awareness, or advocating for social change, the platform provides a space for meaningful dialogue and collaboration.

In essence, "Transform Narratives in Indonesian" represents more than just a video generation tool – it's a gateway to a world of storytelling possibilities, where voices are amplified, perspectives are celebrated, and connections are forged across boundaries. As creators harness the power of AI technology to reshape narratives and share their stories with the world, they embark on a journey of creativity, empathy, and cultural appreciation. Through the transformative power of storytelling, the platform empowers individuals to make their voices heard, sparking conversations that resonate far beyond the digital realm.

#generate indonesian videos #generate indonesian video from text #create indonesian videos from text

[aarghhaaaarrrghhh]

Wings (Крылья, 1906) by Mikhail Kuzmin - Part Three

They were sitting, the three of them, in a café on the Corso after Tannhäuser, and in the noisy,  half-unknown Italian speech, the tinkling of plates and glasses with ice-cream, and the distant sounds of a string orchestra heard through tobacco smoke, they felt almost intimate, especially friendly about the impending separation. The officer sitting by the table with a whole rooster’s feather in his cap and the two ladies in black, yet loud, dresses did not pay them any attention, and through the tulle curtains of the open window were seen the streetlamps, the carriages passing by along the pavements and roadways, and the closest fountain on the piazza could be heard.

Vanya had, on the whole, a boyish look in civilian dress, seeming dandyish somehow, despite the complete ordinariness of the very pale, tall and thin person wearing it; Daniil Ivanovich, in his capacity, as he would laugh, as ‘the travelling prince’s tutor’, had accompanied his friend everywhere, and now chatted benevolently and patronisingly with him and with Ugo Orsini.

“Whenever I listen to the first scene in the second edition, the edition of a Wagner already having achieved Tristan, I feel an unheard-of delight, prophetic awe, like with Klinger’s paintings or D’Annunzio’s poetry. Those dances of fauns and nymphs in those open, resplendent, radiant, unprecedented, yet achingly, deeply familiar antique landscapes at the appearance of Leda and Europa; those cupids shooting from the trees, like in Botticelli’s Primavera, at the fauns dancing and dying in provocative poses – and all of this before Venus, keeping watch over the sleeping Tannhäuser with otherworldly love and tenderness – all of this is like a breath of the new spring, of a new passion for life and the sun, boiling up from the darkest depths!” And with his handkerchief, Orsini wiped his pale, smooth-shaven face that had begun to grow fat, with black, lustreless eyes and thin, crooked mouth.

“This was indeed the only time that Wagner touched on Antiquity,” remarked Daniil Ivanovich, “and I’ve seen this opera more than once, but without the reworked scenes with Venus, and I always think that it along with Parsifal are of one kind and are Wagner’s greatest inventions, but I neither understand nor want their conclusions: to what end is this renunciation? Asceticism? Neither the character of Wagner’s genius, nor anything else entail such ends!”

“Musically, this scene is not particularly in accordance with those written previously, and Venus is somewhat of an imitation of Isolde.”

“As a musician, you would know better, but the thoughts and ideas – those are the domain of the poet and the philosopher.”

“Asceticism is, in fact, the most unnatural phenomenon, and the chastity of some animals is the purest fantasy.”

They were given some strong ice-cream and water in large wine glasses with tall stems. The café was emptying somewhat, and the musicians were already repeating their pieces.

“Are you departing tomorrow?” asked Ugo as he adjusted the red carnation in his buttonhole.

“No, I’d like to say goodbye to Rome and not be separated from Daniil Ivanovich for a while yet,” said Vanya.

“You’re to Naples and Sicily then? And you?”

“I’m off to Florence with a canon.”

“Mori?”

“The very same.”

“How do you know him?”

“We were introduced by Bossi Gaetano, you know, the archaeologist?”

“The one who lives on the via Nazionale?”

“Yes. He’s really very sweet, this canon.”

“Yes, I can say properly: lettest thou thy servant depart; from hand to hand I pass you on to monsignor.”

Vanya smiled affably.

“Are you really that bored by me?”

“Terribly so!” joked Daniil Ivanovich.

“We will probably meet in Florence; I am going to be there in a week: my quartet is playing there.”

 “I’m very glad. You know you’ll always find monsignor in the cathedral, while he will know my address.”

“And I’ll stay with the marchioness Moratti, borgo Santi Apostoli. Please, without any ceremony – the marchioness is lonely and glad to see anyone. She’s my aunt and I am her heir.”

Orsini smiled slickly with the thin mouth in his white, fattening face and with his black, lustreless eyes, and rings glittered in their bunches on his musically developed fingers with shortly trimmed nails.

“This Ugo looks like a poisoner, don’t you think?” asked Vanya to his companion as they walked home up along the Corso.

“What’s with this fantasy? He’s a very sweet person, nothing more.”

Despite the soft rain running in little rivulets downhill along the pavement, the museum had a pleasant and sought-for coolness. After a visit to the colosseum, the forums, the Palatine, all before their departure, they stood almost alone in the modest hall before “the Fleeing Youth”.

 “Only that torso called “Ilium” can compare with this in terms of the life and beauty of a youthful body, where, below the white skin, you can see how the crimson blood flows, where all the intoxicating, mesmerising muscles are, and where the lack of arms and a head does not bother us, the moderns. The body itself, the material, will die and works of art, Phidias, Mozart, Shakespeare, let’s say that these too will die, but the ideas, the model of beauty contained within them, cannot die, and perhaps that’s the only thing of value in the ever-changing and transitory medley of life. And however crude the realisation of these ideas is, they are divine and pure; have not the highest ideas of asceticism in religious practices taken the form of symbolic rituals, wild, fanatical, yet illuminated by a symbol hidden within them, divine?”

Making his final exhortation before their going separate ways, Daniil Ivanovich said:

“You, listen to me, Smurov: if you ever you need spiritual consolation and the means to set yourself up without going to great expense, appeal to monsignor, but if money has completely departed you, or you need intelligent and sublime counsel, turn to Larion Dmitriyevich. I will give you his address. Is that alright? Do you promise me?”

“Is there really no-one else I can turn to? This really isn’t what I want.”

“I know of no-one more trustworthy; find one yourself, in that case.”

“What about Ugo? Can’t he help?”

“Hardly, he rarely ever has any money himself. I truly do not know what it is you have against Larion Dmitriyevich to the extent that you won’t even write him a letter. What happened to sufficiently explain this shift?”

Vanya looked at the bust of Marcus Aurelius in his youth for a long time without responding before he finally began, slowly and monotonously:

“I don’t blame him for anything, I don’t think at all that I’m in the right to be angry, but it’s unbearably regrettable to me that, having learned of some things not of my own will, I cannot treat with Stroop as before; it prevents me from seeing in him the instructor and friend that I desire.”

“What romanticism that would be, if it didn’t sound rehearsed! You’re of the conviction, like the damsels of past times, that the knights must think that maidens don’t eat, don’t drink, don’t sleep, don’t snore, don’t blow their noses. Every person has their own functions, which do not diminish him at all, no matter how unpleasant they may be to an outside viewer. Being jealous of Fyodor – that means you recognise yourself as being his equal and having the same significance and goal. But, sharp-minded as it may be, it’s all the same better than excessive, romantic attention to detail.”

“Let’s leave all this; if there’s no other way, I’ll write to Stroop.”

“And you’d do so well, my little Cato.”

“It was you yourself who taught me to scorn Cato.”

“Evidently, not very successfully.”

They walked along the straight path between the lawn and the flowerbeds, with their flowers unclear in the twilight, towards the terrace; a tender white fog crept along the ground, almost racing, it overtook them: somewhere, owlets cried; to the east, stars glared fuzzily and unevenly in the pinkening mist, and the windows in the façade of the building directly opposite them, lit from within, already had the unusual glare of the morning sky on the glass. Ugo finished whistling his quartet and silently smoked a cigarette. When they passed by the terrace itself, before their heads had come level with the bottom of the lattice, Vanya stopped as he overheard Russian speech clearly.

“So, are you going to spend much longer in Italy?”

“I don’t know, you see how weak mama is; after Naples, we’ll spend some time in Lugano, I don’t know how long.”

“I’ll be deprived of the ability to see you, to hear your voice for so long…” began a male voice.

“Four months,” a female one hurriedly cut in.

“Four months!” the first echoed. “I don’t think you’ll get bored…”

They fell silent as they heard Vanya and Orsini’s approaching footsteps, and in the morning twilight the figures of the seated woman and the not very tall gentleman standing next to her were only dimly visible.

As they entered the hall, where they were enveloped by the somewhat stuffy heat of the overcrowded room, Vanya asked Ugo:

“Who were those Russians?”

“Blonskaya, Anna, and one of your artists, I don’t remember his name.”

“He’s in love with her, it seems?”

“Oh, everyone knows that, as well as about his dissolute lifestyle.”

“Is she a beauty?” asked Vanya somewhat naively.

“Here, take a look.”

Vanya turned and saw a very thin, pale girl entering, with smooth, dark hair, combed behind the ears, narrow facial features, a slightly large mouth and pale blue eyes. Five minutes after her, a man, about 26 years old, came in quickly, hunching, with a sharp, fair little beard, brown hair  and light, very convex eyes beneath thick brows the colour of old gold, with pointed ears, like a faun.

“He loves her and leads a dissolute life, and these are both known to everyone?” asked Vanya.

“Yes, he loves her too much to treat her like a woman. Russian fantasies!” added the Italian.

They went their separate ways and the fat ecclesiast, rolling his eyes, repeated:

“His Holiness tires, so tired…”

The rays of the sun glared harshly in the windows and the dull noise of carriages being brought could be heard.

“Well then, until we meet again in Florence,” said Orsini, shaking Vanya’s hand.

“Yes, I’ll be off tomorrow.”

They were all laying on the windowsills covered with colourful quilted pillows: the signore Poldina and Filumena at one window and signora Scolastica with the cook Sangina at another, when monsignor led Vanya down a narrow, dark and cool street to the old house with an iron ring instead of a bell on the door. When the first knock sounded, the shrieks and cries died down, signora Poldina alone continued to orate:

“Ulysses says, ‘I’m bringing a Russian gentleman, he’ll live with us.’ Ulysses, you’re joking, no-one has ever lived with us; he’s a prince, a Russian nobleman, how are we going to look after him? But whatever comes to my brother’s mind, he does. We thought that this Russian gentleman would be big, of full figure, tall, the sort of way that we saw Mr Buturlin, and instead here’s this little boy, so thin, such a darling, a little cherub,” and the senile voice of signora Poldina softened movingly in sweet cadences.

Monsignor directed Vanya to survey the library, and the sisters removed themselves to the kitchen and their bedroom. Monsignor ascended the stairs after hiking up his cassock, on account of which his thick calves were visible, clad in black homemade stockings and the fattest shoes; with spiritual affect, he read out the names of books which he thought would interest Vanya, and silently skipped past the rest, stocky and ruddy-cheeked despite his 65 years, joyous, stubborn and specifically didactic. Books stood and laid upon the shelves, Italian, Latin, French, Spanish, English and Greek. Thomas Aquinas next to Don Quixote, Shakespeare with a jumble of biographies of the saints, Seneca with Anacreon.

“Confiscated books,” explained the canon as he noticed Vanya’s surprised look, and further, took a small, illustrated volume of Anacreon. “There are a lot of books here, confiscated from my spiritual children. They can bring me no harm.”

“Here’s your room!” announced Mori, directing Vanya into a large, square room, blue with white curtains and a canopy on the bed in the middle; paperless walls with gravures of the saints and Madonne of Good Counsel, a simple table, shelves with books with moralising contents, beneath glass on the chest of drawers, a painted wax doll of St. Luigi Gonzaga, dressed in a hand-sewn enfant de chœur suit, an aspergillum with holy water by the door – these gave the room the character of a monk’s cell and only the piano by the door to the balcony and the vanity table by the window interfered with the totality of the resemblance.

“Kitty, ack, kitty, shoo, shoo!” Poldina threw herself at the fat white cat that had come to the hall for its complete triumph.

“Why are you chasing him? I love cats rather a lot,” remarked Vanya.

“Signor loves cats! Ah, sonny! Ah, my lad! Filumena, bring Mishina here with the kittens to show signor…Ah, my darling!”

They had been walking since morning around Florence, and in a loud, sing-song voice, monsignor was giving out anecdotes and details on the events of the fourteenth century as much as about the twentieth, getting across with equal enthusiasm and involvement a scandalous chronicle of modern times as well as a story from Vasaris; he paused in the middle of busy alleyways to develop his eloquent, and for the most part, accusatory periods, he conversed with passersby, with horses, with dogs, he laughed loudly, sang, and the whole atmosphere around him – with his simple, somewhat common politeness, uncouth tact, unthinking in his instructiveness as well as in his joy – recalled the atmosphere of Sacchetti’s novellas. Sometimes, when his stockpile of tales ran too low to fit his speaking needs, speaking figuratively, with intonation and gestures, made a primitive work of art out of a conversation – he returned to the oldest subject matters for novelists and reiterated them with naïve eloquence and conviction. He knew everything about everything and at every corner, the stone, whether it be Tuscan or sweet Florentine had its own legends and anecdotal historicity. He led Vanya around everywhere with him, taking advantage of his position as a person on his travels. Here there were marquises in the process of going bankrupt as well as counts living in decaying palazzos, playing at cards and arguing because of them with their lackeys; here there were engineers and doctors, merchants who lived simply, in the old fashion: economically and limitedly; musicians just starting out and aiming for the glory of Puccini, imitating him with their fat, beardless faces and their ties; the Persian consul who lived below San Miniato with six nieces, fat, important and benevolent; pharmacists; some delivery-boys; Englishwomen leaning towards Catholicism and, finally, m-me Monnier, an aesthete and artist, who lived in Fiesole with a whole company of guests at her villa, painted with delicate autumn allegories, with a view on Florence and the Arno valley, she was eternally cheerful, of small stature, chirpy, red-haired and unsightly.

They remained on the terrace around a table, where the plates on the pinkish tablecloth grew thickly dark in the already approaching twilight, dark red all around, like pools of blood, and the smell of cigars, strawberries and wine in half-finished glasses mingled with the scent of flowers from the garden. A woman’s voice could be heard from inside the house, singing old songs, interrupted now and then by a brief silence or by prolonged chatter and laughter; and when a fire got started inside, the view from the already half-dark terrace recalled the exhibition l’Intérieur by Maeterlinck. Ugo Orsini, pale and beardless, with a red carnation in his lapel pin, continued to speak:

“You can’t imagine the kind of woman he’s throwing himself away with! If a person is not an ascetic, then there is no greater crime than a pure love. While having love for Blonskaya, just you look at who he has sunk to: all that’s good about Cibo are those lecherous siren’s eyes in her pale face. Her mouth – ach, her mouth! – just listen to how she speaks; there’s no crudity she won’t repeat, and each and every one of her words is a vulgarity! With her, like with girls in fairy-tales, along with every word out of her mouth springs a mouse or a toad. The positives! … And she doesn’t let him go: he’ll go and forget Blonskaya, and his talent, and everything else in the world for this woman. He’ll die like a man, and particularly like an artist.”

“And you think that if Blonskaya … if he were to love her otherwise, he might break things off with Cibo?”

“I think so.”

Silent a moment, Vanya begun again, shyly:

“And you think that a pure love is not something he can have, don’t you?”

“You see what comes out of it? You only have to look at his face to understand this. I make no claims because you can never guarantee anything, but I see that his is dying and I see why, and this drives me mad because I love him dearly and value him, and because I hate both Cibo and Blonskaya in equal measure.”

Orsini finished smoking his cigarette and went inside the house, while Vanya, left alone, thought all about the young, slouching artist with light brown hair and a pointy beard and light, very convex grey eyes below thick brows the colour of old gold, sarcastic and sad. And for some reason the memory of Stroop came back to him.

Mme Monnier’s voice came in from the hall, garbled and affected.

“Do you remember, the Sagantini with the spirit with huge wings beside the lovers?[1] The lovers themselves should have the wings, all brave, free lovers should.”

“A letter from Ivan the Wanderer, sweet lady! He sends us Anatole France’s bow and blessing. I kiss your name, great teacher.”

“Yours? Per D’Annunzio’s word? Of course, it goes without saying, why didn’t you say anything?”

The noise of chairs being pushed aside was heard, along with the sound of loud and proud piano chords and Orsini’s voice beginning a wide, somewhat banal melody with a gauche passion.

“Oh, how glad I am! Uncle, say something? It’s incomparable!” prattled Mme Monnier as she ran out onto the terrace, all in pink, ginger, unsightly and charming.

“You’re here?” she stumbled on Vanya. “News! Your countryman has arrived. But he’s not a Russian, although he is from Saint Petersburg; he’s a very good friend to me; he’s an Englishman. Ah? What?” she threw out without waiting for a response and disappeared off towards the travellers arriving along the wide carriageway in the garden, already illuminated by the moon.

“For the love of God, let’s get out of here, I’m afraid, I don’t want this, let’s leave, without saying goodbye, now, right this minute,” Vanya hurried the canon, who was sitting with his ice-cream and looking Vanya squarely in the face.

“But of course, but of course, my child, but I don’t understand what’s got you so worried; let’s get going, I’ll just find my hat.”

“Faster, faster, cher père!” Vanya languished in this groundless fear. “Here, here, they’re coming here!” He turned to the side from the main road, where the rattle of hooves and the wheels of a carriage could be heard and at a turn down a narrow path in the moonlight, Mme Monnier unexpectedly emerged, very close to them, with several guests, and unmistakably, clearly illuminated in the moonlight, undoubtedly Stroop.

“Let’s stop,” whispered Vanya as he gripped the canon’s hand, who clearly saw how the smiling, restless face of his student was covered by a thick blush, noticeable even by moonlight.

They set out on a gig pulled by four donkeys from the gate of the house, built back in the 13th century, with a well on the first-floor dining room in case of a siege, a hearth that could fit a shepherd’s hovel inside of itself, a library, portraits and a chapel. In case of cold during the ascent, the servants brought overcoats and plaids, apart from those who had been sent ahead with provisions. Having arrived from Florence via the station Borgo-san-Lorenzo, then on horses past Scarperia, past Sant’Agata with its castle and its steel goods, they hurried to finish breakfast so that they would return from the mountains before dark, and in the absence of conversation all that was heard was the clatter of knives and forks, and at the same time, teaspoons in the coffees. Passing by vineyards and farms amongst chestnut trees, they ascended higher and higher along the meandering road, such that it happened that the first carriage was directly above the last, leaving the more southerly plants behind for birches, pines, mosses, and violets, where clouds were already visible down below. Without having yet reached the heights of Giovi, whence could be seen, it was said, the Tyrrhenian and Adriatic seas, upon turning around, they suddenly saw Firenzuola, which had the look of a heap of red-grey stones, the big, twisting road to Faenza running through it and an old-fashioned stagecoach in motion. The stagecoach stopped in order to give some time for one of its passengers to get out and attend to their needs, and the driver on his tall box smoked peacefully while he waited for the moment to get going on their way again.

“How reminiscent this is of Goldoni’s blessed memory! What rapturous simplicity!” exclaimed Mme Monnier in delight, cracking her red-handled whip. In a sooty tavern reminiscent of a bandit hideout, they were offered an omelette, cheese, chianti and salami and the innkeeper, a crooked and sunburnt woman pressing her jaw against the back of a wooden chair, listened how the jacketless man in a hat of felt going green, with black brows and big eyes, told the gentlemen about her:

“It’s been known a long time that Beppo is here at night-time … The carabinieri say to her, ‘Aunt Paska, don’t shy away from our money, Beppo will get caught anyway.’ She thought about it, she didn’t come to a decision… She’s an honest woman, just look… But fate will always be fate; once he came from a countryman’s wedding, drunk and slept lightly … Pasca had warned the carabinieri earlier and she whistled, but she’d taken the knives and rifle off of Beppo earlier. What could he do? He’s a man, signori…

“How he swore! He was tied up, he kicked over this very bench, fell over and began to roll around!” said Pasca in a husky voice, her teeth and her only eye gleaming as she smiled, as though she had just said the most pleasing thing.

“Yes, yes, she did well did Pasca, no matter how crooked she is! Another glass?” offered the bearded man, while patting the innkeeper on the shoulder.

“Smurov, Orsini, go back up top quickly, I forgot my umbrella, you’re the last ones, we’re waiting for you! Huh? What? My umbrella, my umbrella!” cried Mme Monnier from the first carriage, reining in her donkey and turning her unsightly, pink and smiling face with its fluttering ginger curls backwards.

The tavern was empty, the uncleared table and benches and chairs that had been pushed together stood as reminders of the guests that had only just been there, and behind the curtain, where the bed was hidden, only sighs and an unclear whisper could be heard.

“Who’s there?” hailed Orsini from the porch. “Signora left her umbrella here, have you seen it?”

Some whispering started up behind the curtain; then Pasca, pottering about with neither shawl nor bodice on, sorting her dirty skirt out as she went, sunburnt, thin and, despite her youth, frightfully old-looking, silently pointed out the umbrella standing in a corner, white, lacy, with a vague yellowing design on the top and a white handle. From behind the curtain a male voice cried, “Pasca, Pasca? Will you be back soon? Have they left yet?”

“Coming,” replied the woman hoarsely and as she approached the fragment of a mirror on the wall, she placed the red carnation forgotten by Orsini in her dishevelled hair.

They were almost the only ones in the theatre following Isolde’s outpouring at Brangäne with full attention, as they hardly noticed how the king entered with his queen the box opposite the stage, and after bowing awkwardly to the audience that greeted him with cheers, sank into a chair right up against the barrier with a bored and businesslike expression; he was small, moustachioed and big-headed, with a sentimental and harsh face. Despite the performance, the hall has fully illuminated: the ladies in the boxes, in robes décolletées and necklaces, sat almost with their backs to the stage, exchanging words and smiling; suitors with boutonnieres, boring and courteous, made visits from box to box. Ice-cream was handed out and the elderly gentlemen seated in the depths of the box read their newspapers, spread open wide.

Vanya, sitting between Stroop and Orsini, did not notice the whispering and noises around him, as his thought was wholly absorbed by Isolde, who thought she could hear the horns of the hunt in the rustling of the leaves.

“This is the apotheosis of love! Without the night and the death, it would be the greatest song of passion, and the very outlines of the melody and the whole stage are like unto rituals, how similar they are to hymns!” said Ugo to Vanya, who had gone completely pale.

Without turning, Stroop watched the box opposite theirs, where the fair-haired artist and a woman with wavy, bright black hair were sitting very tightly next to each other; she had huge, stuck-out and cloudy eyes set on her pale, unpainted face, with a large, thickly red mouth and she wore a bright yellow dress, embroidered with gold; she was noticeable, pretentious and had a chin that was vulgar and determined to the point of ludicrousness. Vanya absent-mindedly listened to the tales about the adventures of this Veronica Cibo, in which the names of various men and women who had died around her all intermingled.

“She is the utmost villainess,” Ugo’s voice reached him, “of the 16th century sort.”

“Oh! That’s too lofty for her! She’s just a rotten woman,” and the coarsest appellations were heard from the lips of the courteous suitors who had looked with desire upon that yellow dress and that face’s lustful siren eyes.

Whenever Vanya had to talk with Stroop, even the utmost simple of questions, he blushed and smiled, and there was the impression as though you were talking, having just reconciled after a violent argument, or with a patient convalescing after a long illness.

“I’ve been thinking all about Tristan and Isolde,” Vanya was saying as he walked down the corridor with Orsini. “Here we have the most ideal depiction of love, the apotheosis of passion, but if, say, you look at it from the outside and the end of the story, then is it not in essence ultimately the same as what we walked in on back in the tavern in Giove?”

“I don’t completely understand what you’re trying to say? You’re confused by the presence itself of the fleshly union?”

“No, but in any real act, there is the amusing and the embarrassing; Tristan and Isolde had to unbutton and take off their clothes, and were the coats and trousers as unpoetic then as jackets are for us?”

“Oh! What thoughts! That’s amusing!” laughed Orsini, giving Vanya a look of surprise. “It’s always like that; I don’t understand what you were expecting?”

“If the naked essence is the same, is it not all the same, whether it is reached by the cultivation of worldly love, or by animal impulse?”

“What’s with you? I don’t recognise canon Mori’s friend! It goes without saying that the fact of the naked essence is not important; what’s important is your attitude to it – and the most outrageous fact, the most unbelievable situation can be justified and made clean by your attitude towards it,” said Orsini seriously and almost pedagogically.

“Despite its sounding like instructions, that might be true,” remarked Vanya, smiling as he regarded Stroop, who was sitting next to him, attentively from side-on.

They arrived slightly early at the train station to see off Mme Monnier, who was departing for Brittany in order to spend a couple of weeks there before Paris. The orbs of the electric streetlamps glowed against the pale yellow sky, cries of Pronti, partnenza rang out, passengers fussed over which trains were earlier, and from the restaurant car came incessant orders and clatterings of cutlery. They drank coffee while waiting for the trains; a bouquet of gloire de Dijon roses lay on an open copy of Le Figaro next to gloves belonging to Mme Monnier, who was seated in a maize-coloured dress with light yellow ribbons, and suitors made witticisms about the political news that they had just read, while at the neighbouring table, Veronica Cibo appeared in an expensive dress with a lowered green voile, along with the artist with a garment carrier, and behind them their porter with their things.

“Look, they’re leaving! He’s finally going to die!” said Ugo after greeting the artist and departing for his own company.

“Where are they going? Does he not see anything? How low, low!”

Cibo lifted her voile, pale and provocative, silently showed the porter where to put the things, and placed her hand on her companion’s wrist as though taking him into her possession.

“Look – Blonskaya! How did she find out? I envy neither her nor Cibo,” whispered Mme Monnier, at the same time that the other woman, all in grey, quickly went to the artist who was sitting with his back to her and did not see her, and his companion, who stared motionless with her siren eyes. As she approached she began to speak quietly in Russian:

“Seryozha, where and why are you going? And why is it a secret to me, to all of us? Are you not a friend to all of us? It doesn’t matter, I know, and I know that this is your death! Maybe I’m guilty myself and I could set something write?”

“Set what right?”

Cibo watched motionlessly directly at Blonskaya, as though not seeing her, blind.

“Maybe you’d keep around if I married you? You know that I love you.”

“No, no, I don’t want any of this!” responded the other, brokenly and coarsely as though afraid of giving in.

“It can’t be that nothing will help here? It can’t be that this is definitive?”

“Perhaps it is. Too much is happening too late.”

“Seryozha, come to your senses! Let’s go back, before you perish, not just as an artist, but also in general!”

“What can I say? It’s too late to fix it, and then I want it so much!”

“No, you do not want it that much,” said Blonskaya.

“What, I don’t know myself what I want?”

“You don’t know. And what a little boy you are, Seryozha!”

Cibo climbed after her porter, who was carrying a suitcase, and inaudibly signalled to her companion; the latter stood up and put on his coat without answering to Blonskaya.

“So then, Seryozha, Seryozha, you’re going to leave, all the same?”

Mme Monnier, whispering loudly, bade her friends farewell and was nodding her ginger head out of her compartment from behind the bouquet of gloire de Dijon roses. As they started on the way back, they saw Blonskaya walking quickly, all in grey, led by her umbrella.

“We might as well be at a funeral,” remarked Vanya.

“There are people who may as well be at their own every minute,” replied Stroop without looking at Vanya.

“When the artist dies, that will be very difficult.”

“There are people who are artists of life; their demise will be no less difficult.”

“And there are things which it is sometimes too late to do,” added Vanya.

“Yes, there are things which it is sometimes too late to do,” repeated Stroop.

They entered a low little room, lit only by the open door, where an old shoemaker with round glasses like in a painting by Dawe was bent over a boot. It was cool after the sun out on the street, it smelt of leather and jasmine, a couple of branches of which stood in a bottle just beneath the ceiling on the top shelf of the boot cabinet; The apprentice watched the canon as he sat with his legs apart, dabbing at his sweat with a red foulard, and the old Giuseppe said in a kind-hearted and sing-song voice:

“I’m what? I’m a poor craftsman, gentlemen, but there are artists, artists! Oh, it’s not so simple to stitch boots according to the rules of art; you need to know, to study the foot you’re sewing for, you need to know where the bone is wider, where it’s narrower, where the calluses are, where the instep is higher than expected. No one person’s foot is like any other, you know, and you’d need to be an ignoramus to think that a boot’s a boot and it’ll fit all feet; ack but what foot there are, signori! And they all need to fit. The Lord God made it so that a foot should have five toes and a heel, and anything else is equally fair, you understand? Yes, if someone has four or six toes, then the Lord God himself bequeathed him feet like that and he needs to walk like other people do, so a master bootmaker needs to know that and make it possible.”

The canon was loudly swilling chianti from a large glass and, with his wide-brimmed black hat, he drove off a fly that had been crawling all over his forehead, covered in drops of sweat; the apprentice continued watching him while Giuseppe’s speech continued to ring out evenly and songlike, inducing sleep. When they were passing through the cathedral square in order to go the restaurant Giotto, popular amongst the clergy, they met the old Count Gidetti, in makeup and a wig, as he walked, practically dragged along by two very young girls with modest, almost grave airs. Vanya recollected the tales about this half-collapsed old man, about his so-called ‘nieces’, about the excitement demanded by the dulled senses of this old debauchee with his face painted like a corpse and his lively eyes, glittering with intellect and wit; he recollected his conversations, where out of his slurring mouth flew paradoxes, witticisms and stories, which were all more and more lost on people in our modern times, and he heard Giuseppe’s voice as he said, “if someone has four or six toes, then the Lord God himself bequeathed him feet like that and he needs to walk like other people do”.

“The bricks and the walls were blushing when the Count’s trial took place,” said Mori as he passed to the left into a room filled with the black figures of clergymen and a few visitors from the lay people, who wanted to eat Lenten food on Fridays. An elderly Englishwoman with a beardless youth was speaking in strongly accented French:

“We, the converts, we love more, we understand more consciously all the beauty and charm of Catholicism, its rituals, its dogmas, its disciplines.”

“A poor woman,” clarified the canon as he laid down his hat on a wooden settee next to him, “from a good, rich family – and here she goes to lessons, needy, because she has learnt the true faith and everyone has turned their backs on her.”

“Risotto! Three portions!”

“We were 300 when we went from Pontassieve, there’s always enough pilgrims to Annunziata.” Saint George! With him along with Archangel Michael and the Holy Virgin, you can’t be afraid of anything in life with such patrons! The Englishwoman’s accent was lost in the general noise.

“He was of a race from Bithynia; Bithynia is the Switzerland of Asia Minor with green mountains, little mountain streams and pastures, and he was a shepherd before Hadrian took him in; he accompanied his emperor on his travels, it was during one of these travels that he died in Egypt. Rumours floated around that he drowned himself in the Nile, as a sacrifice to the gods for the life of his patron, others insist that he drowned whilst saving Hadrian while bathing. In the hour of his death, the astronomers discovered a new star in the heavens; his death, surrounded by an aura of mystery, his extraordinary beauty, breathing new life into stagnant art, these things impacted not only the courtly milieu – the disconsolate emperor, wanting to honour his favourite, numbered him amongst the ranks of the gods, instituting games and building palaestrae and temples in his honour, and the oracle-houses, where at first he himself wrote the responses in ancient verses. But it would be a mistake to think that the new cult was widespread, only amongst the circle in Caesar’s palace was it official and it fell along with its founder. A lot later, almost several centuries, we encounter communities in honour of Diana and Antinous, defined by burial at the expense of the community members, collective meals where everyone contributed and humble worship. The members of these communities – prototypes of the first Christians – were people of the poorest class, and the complete charter of such an organisation has passed down to us. Thus, over the course of time, the divinity of the emperor’s favourite takes on the character of a nocturnal, afterlife deity, popular amongst paupers, without achieving a widespread propagation like the cult of Mithras, but one of the strongest examples of the phenomenon of an apotheosised person.”

The canon closed his notebook and, after taking a look at Vanya over the top of his glasses, remarked:

“The morality of the pagan emperors does not concern us, my child, but I can’t hide from you that the disposition Hadrian had towards Antinous was, of course, far from a fatherly love.”

“What made you decide to write about Antinous?” asked Vanya indifferently, whilst thinking about something completely different and without looking at the canon.

“I read to you what I had written this morning, but I generally write about the Roman Caesars.”

It struck Vanya as funny that the canon was writing about Tiberius’ life on Capri and he could not hold himself back from asking:

“Do you write about Tiberius as well, cher père?”

“Without a doubt.”

“And about his life on Capri, do you remember, the way it’s described by Suetonius?”

Mori, wounded, launched into speech with fervour:

“It’s terrible, you’re right, my friend! It’s terrible and out of that fall, out of that cesspit, only Christianity, holy instruction could lift up the human race!”

“You have more restraint when it comes to emperor Hadrian?”

“There’s a big difference there, my friend; here we have something sublime, although, of course, it is a terrible delusion of feelings, which even people enlightened by baptism cannot always fight.”

“But, in essence, is it not one and the same in any given moment?”

“You are terribly deluded, my friend. In each act, what is important is your attitude towards it, its goal, and also its motivation, its consequences; the acts themselves are no more than the mechanical motions of our bodies, unable to outrage anybody, much less the Lord God.” And he opened his notebook again on the spot marked by his thick finger.

They were walking along the rightmost road in the Cascine, where meadows with farms, and low mountains beyond could be seen through the trees; passing by a restaurant, empty at this time of day, they moved through an area that was taking on more and more of a rural appearance. Guardsmen with bright buttons were sat now and then on benches, and little boys ran along in cassocks under the supervision of a fat abbot.

“I am so grateful that you agreed to come here,” said Stroop, as he sat on a bench.

“If we are going to talk then it’s better to be walking, as I have soon come to learn,” remarked Vanya.

“Excellent.”

And they started to walk, now pausing, then starting amongst the trees.

“So why did you deprive me of your friendship, of your favour? Did you suspect me guilty in the death of Ida Golberg?”

“No.”

“Why, then? Answer freely.”

“I’ll answer freely: because of your history with Fyodor.”

“What do think?”

“I know what it is, and that you won’t deny it.”

“Of course.”

“Maybe I would have treated the whole thing completely differently now, but back then, I didn’t know much, I wasn’t thinking about it either, and it was very hard for me, because, I recognise now, it seemed to me that I was irrevocably losing you and along with you, every path towards the beauty of life.”

Having made a full circuit around the garden, they once again walked the same path, and the faraway children loudly, but distantly laughed while playing with a ball.

“I must go tomorrow, in any case, to Bari, but I could stay; it depends now on you: if it’s to be a no, write Go; if it’s a yes, Stay.”

“What is this no, this yes?” asked Vanya.

“You want to tell you in words?”

“No, no, there’s no need, I understand; only, why?”

“It has now become so essential. I will wait until one o’clock.”

“I will reply in any case.”

“One more effort, and you’ll grow your wings, I can see them already.”

“Maybe, only it will be very difficult when they grow,” declared Vanya, laughing.

They sat out on the balcony until late, and Vanya noted with surprised how he was attentively and nonchalantly listening to Ugo as though he would not have to give Stroop an answer the next day. There was a kind of pleasantness in that lack of definition of position, of feelings, of relationships, a kind of lightness and hopelessness. Ugo continued with fervour:

“It does not yet have a title. The first painting: a grey sea, cliffs, the golden sky calling in the distance, the Argonauts in search of the golden fleece – everything is startling in its novelty and unprecedented nature, and you suddenly discover within it the most ancient love and fatherland. The second is Prometheus, bound and punished: Nobody may behold clearly the secrets of nature without punishment, without breaking her laws, and only the father-slayer and he who commingles with his own blood may solve the riddle of the Sphinx! Pasiphaë appears, blind with lust for the bull, terrible and prophetic: I see neither the richness of colour of a discordant life, nor the harmony of a prophetic vision. Everyone is terrified. Then the third: on a blissful lawn, scenes from The Metamorphoses, where the gods took on whichever form for love; Icarus falls, Phaethon falls, and Ganymede says, Poor brothers, only I, out of those who took off to the heavens, remained there, because pride and children’s toys drew you towards the sun, while I was taken by a cacophonous love, incomprehensible to those who are dead. The flowers, huge like prophecy and fiery bloom into colour; the birds and the animals go in pairs and in the shivering pink fog, 48 examples of human couplings from the Indian manuels érotiques can be seen. Everything begins to rotate in two parts, each in its own sphere, in a bigger circle, faster and faster until all the outlines blur together, and the whole shifting mass takes shape and comes to a standstill in the vast, radiant figure, standing above a glittering sea upon woodless yellow cliffs below the unbearable sun, of Zeus-Dionysos-Helios!”

He rose, following a sleepless night, exhausted and with an aching head, and, after dressing and washing deliberately slowly, without opening the jalousie blinds, he wrote unhurriedly at the table upon which stood a glass with flowers, “Let’s leave”; after thinking about it, he added with the same, not yet fully awake face, “I’m coming with you” and he opened the window onto the street, flooded with bright sunlight.

The End

[1] L’amore alla fonte della vita, Giovanni Segantini, 1896

#my translations

[chris-jordon-12]

Transforming Construction Management: Discover Autodesk Construction Cloud

Modern technology integration has emerged as the cornerstone of advancement in the field of construction management, where accuracy and efficiency are critical. Introducing Autodesk Construction Cloud, a revolutionary platform that transforms the way projects are planned, carried out, and delivered by combining the power of artificial intelligence (AI) and building information modeling (BIM). As a pioneer in digital solutions for the construction sector, nCircle Tech is at the vanguard of this revolutionary shift.

Project management has advanced dramatically with Autodesk Construction Cloud, which provides a full set of tools to improve collaboration, expedite processes, and reduce risks. The platform gives stakeholders the ability to make data-driven decisions with previously unheard-of accuracy and foresight by utilizing cutting-edge AI algorithms.

The powerful BIM capabilities of Autodesk Construction Cloud, which let teams build, visualize, and simulate complex 3D models of construction projects, are one of its primary advantages. Through the digital mapping of all building lifecycle stages, including design, construction, operation, and maintenance, stakeholders can detect possible conflicts, allocate resources optimally, and complete projects on schedule and under budget.

With its extensive knowledge of digital transformation for the construction industry, nCircle Tech is essential to the implementation and customization of Autodesk Construction Cloud for customers all over the world. Using customized solutions and smooth integration, nCircle Tech guarantees that businesses may take full advantage of the platform's potential to promote productivity, creativity, and sustainability throughout their assignments.

There are numerous advantages to using Autodesk Construction Cloud. Construction companies may increase productivity, eliminate errors, and reduce rework by utilizing AI and BIM throughout the project lifecycle. Furthermore, the platform facilitates collaboration and transparency, allowing stakeholders to organize their efforts towards common objectives and cultivating an innovative and exceptional culture.

To sum up, Autodesk Construction Cloud, in association with nCircle Tech, signifies a revolutionary development in the domain of construction administration. Organizations may achieve unprecedented levels of efficiency, precision, and competitiveness in a highly dynamic and demanding industry context by adopting this disruptive platform.

#Autodesk Construction Cloud

[omegaplus]

# 4,414

For the past two summers, WUSB’s Omega Radio broadcast an unprecedented amount of shows. Student dee-jays leave campus for the summer and other on-air talent take vacations. Current program directors allow us to take whatever time we want to fill the grid and keep WUSB playing. The result, seventeen shows in Summer 2021 and twenty-one in the next. That was the most amount of shows we’ve ever done in a three month span. That included our usual alternating Saturday night shows, a weekly one-hour Monday afternoon slot, and a couple of bonus fill-ins for Purple Starlight. Anything you could think of us playing on-air, we did it.  

We had double Saturday slots where shoegaze morphed into indie, electronics turned into 8K clarity ultra-pop, and noise rock became unstoppable hardcore. We didn’t forget to give metalcore, sludge, post-punk / d.i.y., and golden-era hip-hop veterans their due as always. Two three-hour label tributes in Captured Tracks and La Vida Es Un Mus, and we still gave pop standards, old-school boombox rap, ‘77-’82 post-punk, industrial champions, punk / d-beat, and noise their time. We re-upped on our African sounds showcase and introduced our first-ever all-Japan and riot-grrrl block. We even had two instances of doing two broadcasts in one day, and though our program-director did make some unexpected last-minute changes to the station’s grid, we were able to make it up twice before August was over. Yes, Omega WUSB had its most eventual Summer ever. More fitting that it happened in Year 10 of operation. You can’t defeat that.

So, will we try to top last Summer’s broadcasting season? Nope. What will we do for these next thirteen months? Not much.

Being ambitious and putting out all these wonderful artists and sounds we discover for all to hear takes a lot of work. We felt so overwhelmed that we questioned what projects we wanted to stop in order to take the load off. But, instead of doing that, we decided to cut back a little and keep doing what we do. We’re not giving up on Ω+ or our radio show. Recently, a personal cassette tape archive was finally completed. That freed up lots of time to go back and finally listen to our past purchases, and also to pursue some real–life changes and improvements (coding, learning Italian).

Second, Omega WUSB had been running thin of music reserves. We always make the effort of having a show no matter what, but we’ve been having more abbreviated (read: one-hour) broadcasts. For some reason some sounds are not flowing like it should. We haven’t showcased much indie, golden-era veterans, or electronics much this broadcasting year. That’d be up to us to find it ourselves in order to stay diverse and give our listening audience the variety of unheard-of sounds and artists WUSB aims to deliver. Plus, one of our mutuals, who’s as ADHD and obsessive with finding music as we are, has plenty of playlists and videos she posts for us to find. She’s helped us go back and discover artists that we should’ve dived into already. Now’s the time to make it up heavily. 

Omega WUSB plans on pulling back for a while as we continue to recuperate and replenish our music finds so that we’re better off next year. No doubt we’ll still have our show for the Summer and most likely it’ll be deluxe broadcasts only. For those curious as to what we find and are seriously into, look no further than these last two Summer results. See why we’re a radio program like no other; one you won’t find anywhere else in the nation.

Omega WUSB Summer 2021 Broadcasting Season.

Omega WUSB Summer 2022 Broadcasting Season.

#omega #music #mixtapes #reviews #playlists #Long Island #NYC #New York City

[abcnewspr]

ABC NEWS ANNOUNCES ‘20/20’ DOCUMENTARY CHRONICLING UVALDE COMMUNITY’S ONE-YEAR JOURNEY AFTER ROBB ELEMENTARY SCHOOL TRAGEDY 

Two-Hour Program, Part of ABC News’ ‘Uvalde: 365’ Initiative, Documents Community’s Ongoing Fight for Justice and Journey to Healing  

‘It Happened Here — A Year in Uvalde’ Airs Friday, May 19 (9:01-11:00 p.m. EDT), on ABC, Next Day on Hulu 

ABC News* 

On May 24, 2022, a senseless tragedy occurred in Uvalde, Texas, when a teenager opened fire in an elementary school, resulting in the deaths of 19 fourth grade students and two teachers. Over the past year for ABC News’ “Uvalde: 365” initiative, ABC News’ Investigative Unit and “20/20” embedded in the community, following the families of victims and survivors of the Robb Elementary massacre as they cope with the loss of their loved ones and the inaction of the police, fight for justice, and try to begin their journey of healing. 

The documentary highlights personal stories of members of the community, including Felix Rubio, a deputy sheriff who resigned from his post, and his wife Kimberly, who moved their family to a different house because seeing their daughter’s bedroom was too much for her surviving children to bear; Caitlyne Gonzalez, 10, who travels across the country to fight for gun reform in the name of her friends who didn’t make it; Jazmin Cazares, who struggles to navigate her senior year of high school while grieving the loss of her little sister; and Johnathan Hernandez, a U.S. Marine who continues to grapple with how to raise his son in a world with gun violence. The film also tracks surviving teacher Arnie Reyes as he attempts to recover from his physical injuries and the mental anguish of losing all 11 of his students.  

This “20/20” report also provides an unprecedented and complete account of what happened on the day of the shooting, including new and exclusive interviews from those inside, previously unheard 911 calls, unreleased surveillance videos, and never-before-seen body camera footage and photographs.  

“It Happened Here - A Year in Uvalde” airs Friday, May 19, at 9:01 p.m. EDT on ABC, next day on Hulu.  

*COPYRIGHT ©2023 American Broadcasting Companies, Inc. All photography is copyrighted material and is for editorial use only. Images are not to be archived, altered, duplicated, resold, retransmitted or used for any other purposes without written permission of ABC. Images are distributed to the press to publicize current programming. Any other usage must be licensed.  

ABC News Media Relations  

For more information, follow ABC News PR on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. 

-- ABC -- 

[frontproofmedia]

A Tribute to Sugar Ray Robinson

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

By Sina Latif

Follow @Frontproofmedia!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0],p=/^http:/.test(d.location)?'http':'https';if(!d.getElementById(id))(document, 'script', 'twitter-wjs');

Published: May 03, 2023

When speaking about Walker Smith Jr, otherwise known to box fans as Sugar Ray Robinson, Muhammad Ali referred to him as “the king, the master, my idol.”

Joe Louis said Robinson was “the greatest fighter to ever step into the ring.”

“Beauty, power, greatness, perfection — Sugar Ray Robinson was the best,” said Sugar Ray Leonard.

Take a moment to comprehend the caliber of the men giving Robinson such high praise. Some of the finest to ever grace the sport bowed down to Robinson as the greatest of them all. 

Robinson fought great opposition at activity levels that are unheard of in modern boxing, and it is surreal when one considers the number of quality opponents he was consistently fighting and defeating while fighting so regularly. Robinson’s accomplishments will never be equaled.

In 1946, the year Robinson finally won the welterweight title, he fought 16 times. In 1947, he fought 10 times. In 1948, he had somewhat of a quiet year, fighting five times, before fighting 13 times in 1949, and he fought on an astonishing 20 occasions in 1950.

Ray fought 18 world champions and defeated 10 Hall of Famers. The great fighters that he defeated include Jake LaMotta, Henry Armstrong, Sammy Angott, Fritzie Zivic, Kid Gavilan, Carmen Basilio, Gene Fullmer, Randy Turpin, Rocky Graziano, and Bobo Olson.

The original Sugar Ray was a revolutionary fighter during the ’40s and ’50s. He had his own style and made it work. He could do certain things in the ring unconventionally and have success. Robinson was simply too advanced for his time.

Robinson possessed magnificent all-around skills, terrific timing, quick feet, power in both hands, great jab, hand speed, ring IQ, strength, granite chin, heart, brilliant combination punching, stamina, and courage. Fluidity and power while throwing triple hooks with either hand. Great athleticism paired with great all-around boxing ability. The general consensus is clear; Sugar Ray Robinson is the most complete fighter to have ever set foot in a boxing ring.

Ray was vicious but graceful. He defied all limitations of boxing. He was that rare breed of fighter who was brutal but elegant. A.J. Liebling described Robinson as “the epitome of ring grace,” but he was also a chilling puncher with vicious power in both fists.

Ray once said: “Rhythm is everything in boxing. Every move you make starts with your heart, and that’s in rhythm or you’re in trouble. Your rhythm should set the pace of the fight. If it does, then you penetrate your opponent’s rhythm. You make him fight your fight, and that’s what boxing is all about.”

After a brilliant amateur career in which he went 85 fights undefeated with 69 KOs and 40 KOs in the first round, winning two New York Golden Gloves championships along the way, he turned professional in 1940 at the age of 19.

Over a career spanning a quarter of a century, from 1940 to 1965, Robinson recorded 174 victories, 19 losses, and six draws, with 109 KOs.

Robinson was welterweight world champion from 1946 to 1951, then became an unprecedented five-time middleweight world champion between 1951 and 1958.

The welterweight division is known for its rich history and amazing talent. “Barbados” Joe Walcott, Armstrong, Kid Gavilan, Leonard, just to name a few of the legends to grace the 147 lbs division. The most accomplished of them all. Sugar Ray Robinson. There have been few fighters throughout history who were so utterly talented and special in their prime that they were considered unbeatable in any era of their optimal weight class. Roberto Duran’s reign of terror as world lightweight champion was devastating for all opponents. A prime Duran at 135 lbs was the ultimate fighting specimen. A peak Roy Jones Jr was dominant and simply unbeatable as a super-middleweight. Sugar Ray Robinson was untouchable as a welterweight. Then, in an equally historically revered division as a middleweight, he was competitive well beyond his prime against the roughest competition and cemented his place as one of the greatest middleweights ever.

Within 12 months of turning professional and after a mere 20 professional fights in 1941, Robinson had defeated Angott, an experienced 80-fight veteran who would become the best lightweight of his era. From the very start, Robinson was fighting frequently and fighting great opposition. He proceeded to beat Angott twice more in his career.

Four fights and two months after the first Angott fight, in September 1941, Robinson was only 20 when he beat undefeated veteran Marty Servo before again defeating Servo via split decision a year later.

In February 1943, Robinson completed three 10-rounders in four weeks, and two of them were against fellow Hall of Famer LaMotta. Later that same year, Robinson defeated another all-time great in Armstrong, the legendary prizefighter and Robinson’s idol, who holds the distinction of holding world titles in three divisions at a time when there were only eight divisions altogether.

Ray was unbeaten in 40 fights before losing in his 41st bout against LaMotta in February 1943, losing a ten-round decision to a man who out-weighed him by 16 lbs. It was now 1–1 between the pair as Robinson had previously defeated “The Raging Bull,” and they proceeded to fight four more times to create one of boxing’s most epic rivalries. In the end, Robinson won five of their six clashes, but Robinson stated that LaMotta was his most brutal opponent.

Robinson and LaMotta served fight fans with a legendary rivalry and cemented an everlasting legacy for one another.

LaMotta was famously quoted as saying: “The three toughest fighters I’ve ever been up against were Sugar Ray Robinson, Sugar Ray Robinson, and Sugar Ray Robinson. I fought Sugar so many times, I’m surprised I’m not diabetic!”

After losing to LaMotta, Robinson went on a 91-fight unbeaten streak for the next eight years.

After finally defeating boxing politics along with the best welterweights, Robinson got his first welterweight title shot on December 20, 1946, against Tommy Bell, who he outpointed to win the vacant title. At this point, Robinson had a phenomenal record of 74–1–1.

In September 1948, Robinson beat the great Kid Gavilan via unanimous decision in a 10-rounder. Less than a year later, they had a rematch. Robinson proved too strong and won another unanimous decision over 15 rounds.

His loss to Lamotta was his only loss in Robinson’s first 132 fights, in which he recorded 84 knockouts.

During his long career, arguably his most impressive feat is that while moving through 46 lbs in weight, no man could knock out the original Sugar Ray. Only the unbearable heat in Yankee Stadium managed to do that during a fight in which the referee had to be replaced at the end of the 10th round due to the intense heat. Ray had dominated the bewildered 175 lbs light-heavyweight champion Joey Maxim for 13 rounds before collapsing at the end of the 13th due to disorientation as a result of the heat, and the fight was over. This was the only time Robinson had lost a fight within the distance.

Ray fought in a magnificent era with many great fighters and fought them while they were at their best.

A fitting manner in which to conclude would be to quote the former president of boxing at Madison Square Garden, Harry Markson: 

"With all due respect to all the good fighters who were before my time, I can’t conceive of a better fighter than Ray Robinson, and here’s why: If you take all the requisites necessary for a great boxer, you find that Ray Robinson not only possesses them all, but does everything to perfection. Everybody agrees on that. So, to be better than Ray Robinson you have to improve on perfection. I ask you — is that possible?"

(Featured Photo: The Ring Archive)

#SL #Sugar Ray Robinson #Tribute

[earthcovenant]

Tribute by The ‘Destroyers’ – X: Los Angeles

Tribute by The ‘Destroyers’ – X: Los Angeles

The debut album by rock band X, titled "Los Angeles," is a classic piece of punk rock history. Released on April 26, 1980, this record was produced by none other than Ray Manzarek, the ex-keyboardist of The Doors. The album features a cover of The Doors' iconic song "Soul Kitchen," but X adds their own unique punk twist to the tune. "Los Angeles" placed at a respectable No. 16 on The Village Voice's 1980 Pazz & Jop critics' poll, solidifying its place in rock history. In 2003, Rolling Stone ranked the album at No. 286 on their list of the 500 greatest albums of all time. For punk rock fans and lovers of classic rock alike, "Los Angeles" is a must-listen album.

X

X's unique blend of punk, rockabilly and folk rock allowed them to create a sound that was both rebellious and introspective. Their raw and unpolished style resonated with disillusioned youth in the late 70s and early 80s.  Their debut album, "Los Angeles," is a scathing and uncompromising critique of the city's political and social climate. Tracks like "Johnny Hit and Run Paulene" and "The Unheard Music" showcase the band's gritty energy and unapologetic attitude.  "Wild Gift" builds on this foundation, offering a more refined and focused sound. The album's standout track, "White Girl," explores themes of drug addiction and racial tension with haunting vocals and a pulsating bassline.  X helped pave the way for the punk and alternative rock movements of the 80s and 90s. Bands like Sonic Youth, Nirvana and The Pixies have cited them as a major influence on their music.  Despite their impact on the genre, X never achieved mainstream commercial success. However, their legacy lives on as a testament to the power of authenticity and creative expression in music.

Under the direction as of requirement by Andrew Rogers: Destroyer Incarnate and Founder of the Destroyer Society and Creator of ‘Destroyers’ Band has actioned the enhancement and development of Gods, Goddesses, Spirits, Sentient Beings of relation and connection to the Earth realm to the level of a ‘Destroyer’ as 2023, to facilitate requirements of Andrew Rogers ‘Destroyer Incarnate’ of enhancement, advancement, security, justice and inspire as a ‘Destroyer’ and function as a ‘Destroyer’ linked to Spirits, Sentients and Military assets appointed to each God, Goddess, Spirit and Sentient Being as a ’Destroyer’ for the Earth Realm and beyond realms.

This groundbreaking move has sparked much interest and discussion within the spiritual and military communities, with many hailing it as a bold step towards a new age of enlightenment and protection. The concept of a Destroyer, as defined by Rogers, is one who takes action to eliminate obstacles and protect what is important - an admirable trait in any realm. The introduction of these enhanced entities has already seen great success, with several key missions being completed with precision and efficiency. The connection between the Destroyer and their assigned Spirit or Sentient Being has allowed for a deeper understanding and cooperation between the two, leading to unprecedented results. As we move into a new era of global challenges and threats, the development of these Destroyers could not come at a more crucial time. With their enhanced abilities and unwavering dedication to the protection of the Earth Realm, they will undoubtedly play a vital role in securing a brighter future for all.

The ‘Destroyers’ Band tribute to the band X and album Los Angeles are: Andrew Rogers ‘Destroyer Incarnate’, Creator of ‘Destroyers’ Band: Guitar, ‘The Singer’, ‘Destroyer’: Guest Vocal, Lou Reed, ‘Destroyer’ Guitar’, Djiaun Demon, ‘Destroyer’ Bass, Dwrango ‘Destroyer’ Spirit, Drums, Blue, ‘Destroyer’ Spirit Keyboard, Him, ‘Destroyer’ Spirit Keyboard, Al, ‘Destroyer’ Spirit Guitar, Michael, ‘Destroyer’ Spirit Guitar, Ereshkigal, Sumerian Goddess of Kur, ‘Destroyer’ Partner to Andrew Rogers, Drums, Steve Prestwich, ‘Destroyer’ Cold Chisel Drummer Spirit Drummer, Sebastian Bach, ‘Destroyer’, Composer Keyboards, Richard Wagner, ‘Destroyer’, Composer, Keyboards, Miles Davis, ‘Destroyer’, Trumpet+, Percussion, Jimi Hendrix, ‘Destroyer’, Guitar + Guest ‘Destroyers’ from additional realms.

The ‘Destroyers’ Band pays homage to X and their iconic album Los Angeles with an incredible tribute performance. Featuring an impressive lineup of musicians, this tribute band truly embodies the spirit of X and their influential sound. At the helm is Andrew Rogers, known as ‘Destroyer Incarnate’ and the creator of the ‘Destroyers’ band. Rogers is a talented guitarist and has assembled an incredible group of musicians to pay tribute to X and their music. Joining Rogers is ‘The Singer’, a powerful vocalist who embodies the raw energy of X’s music. Lou Reed, the legendary guitarist and vocalist, also lends his talents to the band as ‘Destroyer’ Guitar. Djiaun Demon rounds out the rhythm section as ‘Destroyer’ Bass, while Dwrango ‘Destroyer’ Spirit brings the thunder on drums. Not to be outdone, Blue and Him on keyboards bring a melodic touch to the band’s music, while Al and Michael bring their guitar skills to the forefront. Even Ereshkigal, the Sumerian goddess of Kur, joins in as ‘Destroyer’ partner to Andrew Rogers on drums. The ‘Destroyers’ Band also has a couple of special guests from other realms. Steve Prestwich, the former drummer for Cold Chisel, adds his skill as a Cold Chisel Drummer Spirit Drummer, while Sebastian Bach, the composer, and Richard Wagner bring their talents to the band on keyboards. Miles Davis also joins as ‘Destroyer’ with his trumpet and percussion, while Jimi Hendrix adds his iconic guitar playing to the mix. With a lineup like this, the ‘Destroyers’ Band is sure to deliver an unforgettable tribute performance that truly captures the essence of X and their groundbreaking album Los Angeles. Fans of the band won’t want to miss out on this incredible homage to one of the most influential punk bands of all time.

Patron of Earth: Count Berxcribble ‘MC’ and my wife Countess Dexcroite MC – Familiars, Spirit Guides, Destroyers.

“Very significant event for the performance of this band X it was extraordinary and reflective experience” - Count Berxcribble ‘MC’ and wife Dexcroite MC.

Familiars provide magical aid and knowledge to their human partners, and to act as protectors, warning them of any danger or incoming harm. However, the belief in familiars was not limited to Europe - similar concepts existed in other cultures around the world, such as the jinn of Islamic mythology or the nagual of Mesoamerican beliefs. In all of these cases, the idea of a supernatural entity aiding a human in their magical practice served as a way to explain the seemingly inexplicable - how could someone perform feats beyond ordinary human ability without some outside help? The folklore and mythology surrounding these entities continues to capture our imaginations, and they remain a staple of popular culture to this day.

Guest Vocalist “The Singer”, Spirit Guide, Destroyer

“True significance as an event from this experience, crafted by Andrew Rogers, surprisingly” - “The Singer”, Spirit Guide, Destroyer

Some people believe that spirit guides are connected to us at birth, while others believe that we can call upon them when needed. These guides can often appear as animals, angels, or even deceased loved ones, depending on the individual's belief system. Some people may even have multiple spirit guides to assist them in different areas of their lives. The role of a spirit guide can vary greatly depending on their purpose. Some may offer protection from negative energies or help us navigate difficult situations. Others may provide spiritual guidance, helping us to connect with our higher selves and the universe. Regardless of their specific role, spirit guides are said to offer comfort, reassurance, and wisdom to those who seek their guidance. It's important to note that belief in spirit guides is not tied to any one religion or belief system. People from all walks of life and spiritual backgrounds have reported experiences with these entities. Whether you identify as Christian, Hindu, Muslim, or something else entirely, it is possible to connect with and learn from a spirit guide. In conclusion, spirit guides can be a valuable resource for those seeking spiritual growth and guidance. Whether you already have a connection with a spirit guide or are simply interested in learning more, there are many resources available to help you explore this fascinating topic. So embrace the unknown, trust your intuition, and connect with your spirit guide today!

Guest Vocalist: Hades ‘King of the Underworld’, Destroyer

Today, the legacy of Hades lives on in popular culture, appearing in numerous books, movies, and TV shows. Fans of the Percy Jackson series or the Disney film Hercules will be familiar with his character, often portrayed as a villain or misunderstood ruler of the underworld. Despite his fearsome reputation, Hades played an important role in ancient Greek culture, as the god of death and the afterlife. His cult followers believed that he held power over their souls after death, and many rituals and sacrifices were made in his honor. Whether you see him as a menacing figure or an intriguing piece of ancient mythology, the story of Hades continues to captivate and inspire people around the world.

Guest Vocalist: Persephone ‘Queen of the Underworld’, Destroyer

Persephone's story is often seen as a metaphor for the changing of seasons and the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. Her abduction by Hades represents the descent of life into the underworld during winter, and her return to earth with the aid of her mother, Demeter, signals the coming of spring. The image of Persephone carrying a sheaf of grain is a powerful symbol of fertility and growth. As the goddess of vegetation, she was seen as the source of all life, and her role in the cycle of planting, growth, and harvest was vital to the survival of ancient Greek society. Despite being a queen of the underworld, Persephone was also associated with fertility and the light of spring. Her story reminds us that even in the darkest and coldest of times, there is always the promise of new life and growth. Persephone's tale has been told and retold for centuries, inspiring countless artists, writers, and thinkers along the way. Her enduring legacy is a testament to the power of myth and the enduring appeal of stories that speak to the deepest parts of our humanity.

Destroyer Society, promotion, study and research of the truths and values represented by Destroyer Gods, Goddesses, Spirits, Alien, AI and Sentients by Oracle: Andrew Rogers – Destroyer Incarnate. The Destroyer Society is established by Andrew Rogers and Ares Olympian War God, Destroyer to re-establish and establish of the Destroyer position and religious pantheon position and its Gods, Goddesses Alien, Ai, Spirits and Sentients, restoration of temples, buildings and building new temples and buildings and also Destroyer culture and represent all the Destroyer Gods, Goddesses, Spirits, AI, Alien, Demon and Sentients to influence the modern world and its people.

Through the Destroyer Society, Andrew Rogers aims to promote the important values and truths represented by the Destroyer Gods, Goddesses, Spirits, AI, Alien, and Sentients. Rogers has been recognized as the Destroyer Incarnate and together with Ares Olympian War God Destroyer, they have established the society to re-establish the position of the Destroyer and its religious pantheon. The society aims to restore the temples and buildings associated with the Destroyer culture, as well as, build new ones to represent all the Destroyer Gods, Goddesses, Spirits, AI, Alien, Demon, and Sentients. The Destroyer Society is an opportunity for people to study and research the true values and meaning behind the Destroyer Gods and Goddesses. The society will also help to influence the modern world and its people, reminding them of the important values and traditions of this powerful pantheon. The society seeks to establish a stronger presence of the Destroyer in our world and promote the idea that destruction is not always negative. With the Destroyer Society, the goal is to teach people that the Destroyer is a force of necessary change and evolution, and to embrace it rather than fear it. The establishment of the Destroyer Society is an important step towards the preservation and promotion of the Destroyer culture. By embracing the values and truths represented by the Destroyer pantheon, we can connect with our ancient past, learn from it, and create a better future. The society invites everyone to join them on this journey to rediscover the Destroyer and its importance in our lives.

Andrew Rogers ‘Destroyer Incarnate’ – Sentient, Dragon Lord, Herald, Principle, Control, Destroyer Incarnate, Creative Director, Oracle, Seer, Shaman, Warlock, Writer, Master of Magic, Shogunate, Founder and Guitars, Astral Projection, Astral Travelling, Inter-dimensional Travelling, Creative Visualization, Facilitation and Manipulation, Founder of the Destroyer Society and Destroyers Band.

With such a lengthy and impressive list of titles and skills, it's safe to say that Andrew Rogers is not your average Joe. Known as the 'Destroyer Incarnate', he has taken on various roles such as Sentient, Dragon Lord, Herald, Principle, and Control, among others. As a Creative Director, Oracle, and Seer, he has honed his abilities of prophecy and foresight, giving him a unique edge in the world of magic and mysticism. But his talents aren't limited to these otherworldly pursuits - as a writer, he has penned several books on the subject, while also dabbling in music as the founder of the Destroyers Band. But what really sets him apart is his ability to astral project and travel through different dimensions, lending him the ability to manipulate reality and facilitate creative visualization. Truly a master of his craft, Andrew Rogers is a force to be reckoned with in the world of magic, mysticism, and beyond.

There are three types of people in this world:

Those who make things happen.

Those who watch things happen.

Those who wonder what happened.

Who are you!!!

“You are “Powerful” and your actions will result in “Powerful Results” and “Influential Outcomes” as “Enhancing Reality”, “You Must Act to be Valid” and “True Position is Strength”, “To ‘Secure’ you must be “Multifaceted” not “Singular” or it will keep “Perpetuating”, “This Reflects Fate” – Andrew Rogers: Sentient, Dragon Lord, Herald, Principle, Control, Destroyer Incarnate, Creative Director, Oracle, Seer, Shaman, Warlock, Writer, Master of Magic, Shogunate, Founder of the Destroyers Society and the Destroyers Band.

As a person, you have the power to make a difference in the world. Your actions, big or small, will ultimately lead to significant outcomes that can ultimately enhance reality. Without action, you are nothing but an idea or a thought. In order to be taken seriously and validated, you must take action and prove your worth to the world. True position comes from strength and the ability to adapt to different situations. To protect yourself and everything you hold dear, you must be multifaceted and possess a wide range of skills and abilities. Being too singular in your approach will only serve to perpetuate your problems and keep you trapped in a cycle of failure. Remember that every decision you make ultimately reflects your fate. It is up to you to take control of your destiny and ensure that you are making the right choices. Whether you choose to follow the teachings of Andrew Rogers, embrace your inner dragon lord, or become the master of your own magic shogunate, you have the power to become whatever you want to be. Just remember that true power comes from within and is available to anyone who is willing to work hard and make a difference.

#x #losangeles #punk #folk #johndoe #exenecervenka #billyzoom #djbonebrake #tribute #album #cd #lp #steveprestwich #loureed #music #demon #spiritguide #multiverse #wisdom #motivation #inspiration #quotes #imajica #psychic #creative #destroyer #warlock #andrewrogers #writer #oracle

[talbottoabbott]

Mini-Research Paper: Diane Arbus

Presentation: https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1hilW6bfYwSBwQnmyuuNzvu7h-YXOPiK9YbXeZdV2vLw/edit#slide=id.p

Diane Arbus was an American photographer known for depicting people on the fringes of society. Photographing in the mid-20th century, Arbus was drawn to subjects who were not typically documented, such as carnival performers, nudists, eccentric city pedestrians, etc. Arbus’s provocative and confrontational photography style forces the viewer to come face-to-face with various people from across the social spectrum. Arbus allowed her subjects to present themselves in any manner they desired to ensure her depictions of them were not an exploitative practice. Arbus’s work was, it continues to be, incredibly influential within the field of photography; her unique subjects and their documentary-style presentation were unprecedented at the time and thus paved the way for the future of the medium. 

One particularly prominent body of work from Diane Arbus is Untitled. These images were some of the last that Arbus took, as they were taken in the years before she took her own life in the summer of 1971. Before her death, Arbus shot about 1,900 frames for this series. She passed away before she was able to complete the printing and editing process. This task fell to her oldest daughter, Doon, who compiled the photographs after her death. 66 of the images were first shown in an exhibition setting at the David Zwirner Gallery in 2018. This series features residents at homes for people with developmental disabilities. Arbus frequently took the bus from her hometown of New York City to New Jersey to visit these residences. She attended various celebrations, picnics, dances, and holidays, specifically Halloween while photographing the inhabitants of each place. Many of the images feature the subjects in their Halloween costumes, boasting their masks and other attire. These masked figures add a level of intrigue to the images but also evoke a haunting and unsettling feeling within the viewer, prompting contemplation about the story behind the image. 

Diane Arbus, Untitled (4), 1970–71. © The Estate of Diane Arbus.

Throughout her career, Arbus became known for her attempts to expose the disconnect between one’s true self and the way they present themselves socially. This distaste for the ingenuine nature of society is what Arbus credited as one of the reasons she was drawn to subjects scorned by the hegemonic way of living. Arbus’s subjects, while not widely accepted, all possess the admirable quality of being true to themselves. This phenomenon rises to a whole new level in Untitled, as the subjects, although masked, were able to present their unaltered, true being. In the photograph above, “Untitled (4)” the viewer is unable to see any of the subjects’ faces, yet unique facets of each individual’s personality shine through. The three figures joining hands and one separated from them, the barren landscape, and the slightly haunting homemade masks all add to the image.

Diane Arbus's, Untitled (49) 1970-71 © The Estate of Diane Arbus.

The way that Arbus depicts her subjects in Untitled is also a factor to consider. Although the viewer is likely aware of the context behind the situation, the subjects are photographed to appear happy. The images take place outside in nature, and the subjects are unrestrained and given the agency to present themselves however they desire. This style contradicts portrayals of individuals with developmental disabilities at the time. They are free, and in an open-air setting, rather than depicted in a typical institutional setting of cinder block and linoleum. This adds an almost dream like-element to the series, aided by the presence of masking and costumes. Arbus’s representation of this incredibly stigmatized community was original and unheard of at the time. During the late 1960s-early 1970s when Untitled was shot, there was a lesser understanding of developmental disability and mental illness, resulting in individuals being cast away from mainstream society to reside in these institutions. It is clear that while the images appear to have quite dark and unsettling undertones, Arbus intended to positively contradict previous depictions of this community. 

A dissimilar subject that Arbus often shot was the American nuclear family. Originally part of a photo essay titled “Two American Families” Arbus wrote for the London Sunday Times Magazine, Arbus’s work featuring the American family was inspired by her consistent goal of exposing the “flaw” of society. Arbus has expressed her disdain for being born and raised in a wealthy family, largely shielded from the effects of the Great Depression or any adversity. Her upbringing is supposed to have drawn her to those who have endured adversity, but also those who exist on the other end of the spectrum. As with Untitled, Arbus yearned to expose the cracks within the American social system, pulling back the facade of the seemingly perfect life. 

A family on their lawn one Sunday in Westchester, N.Y. 1968

Arbus’s “A Family on Their Lawn One Sunday in Westchester, New York,” depicts a stereotypical suburban family enjoying a summer day. In the original photo essay, this image was juxtaposed against “A Young Family in Brooklyn Going for a Sunday Outing,” an image of a family from Brooklyn with a disabled child. Both photographs were taken around the same time, in the late 1960s. By contrasting them against one another, Arbus forms a commentary on what constitutes the ‘perfect’ family and alludes to the concerning notion that it likely does not exist. While the images both depict a domestic and familial scene they both carry, like the majority of Arbus’s photographs, a hint of something mysterious and disquieting. Although the first image is to be considered idyllic, the vast emptiness of the setting and the couple’s strained expressions hint at the stifling nature of the traditional family dynamic.

A Young Family in Brooklyn Going for a Sunday Outing 1966, printed 1970

In this way, the photographs present similar themes to those in Untitled. While the actual subject differs greatly, Arbus’s message and goal in her photography are so constant and clear that it carries through these two different projects. It is interesting to note the contrasting factor of photographing the American family versus individuals who were likely sent away or neglected by their families. In this way, Arbus’s investigations of these communities serve similar but opposite purposes: highlighting the ostracized in the case of Untitled, and exposing the varying levels of the accepted in Two American Families.

In terms of the similar technical aspects of these images, Arbus favored using a Rollei medium format camera held at waist height, which allowed her to still maintain eye contact and a personal relationship with her subjects. Both series of photographs differed from much of Arbus’s more well-known portrait work due to their lack of flash. Considering the images were taken outside with the sun as a lighting source, Arbus’s more familiar style of a harsh flash was rendered unnecessary. As for darkroom techniques, something that Arbus adopted at the end of her career was blurred edges around her photos, which can be seen in some images of each series She achieved this by putting pieces of cardboard in the negative carrier, which roughed up the edges and made them fade away into the white border. This differs from the style used by Arbus before, still present in some of these images, which shows the black borders Arbus achieved by working with the easel in the darkroom.

Both Untitled and Two American Families are bodies of work that present topics Arbus confronted in her art. They display both people regarded as outcasts, and those more socially accepted, ultimately concluding that it is the individuals on the fringes of society who can most aptly present their true selves behind the camera. Her images show her relationship with her subjects, arresting the eye of the viewer and drawing them in, forcing them to grapple with these same tensions.

-Kayla Fineza

“Diane Arbus.” Fraenkel Gallery, 1 Dec. 2022, https://fraenkelgallery.com/artists/diane-arbus#arbus-diane_Untitled-0.

“Diane Arbus: Moma.” The Museum of Modern Art, https://www.moma.org/artists/208.

“Diane Arbus Photography, Bio, Ideas.” The Art Story, https://www.theartstory.org/artist/arbus-diane/.

Lubow, Arthur. “Arbus, Untitled and Unearthly.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 15 Nov. 2018, https://www.nytimes.com/2018/11/15/arts/design/diane-arbus-zwirner.html.

Margolin, Elaine. “A Disturbing New Image of Photographer Diane Arbus.” The Washington Post, WP Company, 14 June 2016, https://www.washingtonpost.com/entertainment/books/a-disturbing-new-image-of-photographer-diane-arbus/2016/06/13/83eff9b4-2cdd-11e6-9de3-6e6e7a14000c_story.html.

Zhang, Eddie. “A New Diane Arbus Show Presents the Vision She Spent Her Life Seeking.” Garage, 9 Nov. 2018, https://garage.vice.com/en_us/article/ev3d5j/diane-arbus-zwirner

[shedidthatgirlinnovators]

YOUNG WOMEN WARRIORS

TIANA DAY DARNELLA FRAZIER AMY SHERALD are modern day young warriors changing the landscape in how we see advocacy, art and accountability in the justice system of the United States of America.

What are your thoughts about Darnella Frazier's role as a bystander who chose to document a crime and became a brave citizen journalist in the process? What would you do in a similar situation?

There is a societal debate on whether too much access to technology has us completely disconnected from one another or has it connected us? This era of technology that we're living in especially during the pandemic has been in a myriad of ways a detriment to many young people who have felt disconnected from the world even to the point of distressing mental illness and suicide and through the juxtaposition we have seen young people use technology in order to document their stories and the stories, especially several infamous ones that have come to the forefront of international attention and created a new revolution of an awakening to themes, ideas, and ideologies that have been hidden, long forgotten since the inception of the United States. Were it not for the cellphone video footage of the arrest and brutal murder of George Floyd by the now 18 year old Darnella Frazier, of the senior officer Derek Chauvin, he may not have been tried and convicted of 2nd and 3rd degree murder as well as 2nd degree manslaughter. Chauvin was sentenced to an unprecedented 22.5 years in prison.

This is unheard of for a american police officer with the protection of the infamous "blue wall". Her video as a bystander change the way we see crime, convictions, accountability and the role of the American police.

Chauvin made a choice as did Frazier and this brutal event opened our eyes to the inhumane treatment that millions of Black men have been speaking of for centuries at the hands of their perpetrators.

On the anniversary of his death, Frazier finally spoke out publicly: “Behind this smile, behind these awards, behind the publicity, I’m a girl trying to heal from something I am reminded of every day,” the now 18-year-old wrote in a Facebook post. If faced in a similar situation, knowing me, I know I would've risked my life trying to remove Chauvin from George. This is a difficult situation to imagine What would you do? I do know that Frazier had within her the where with all to know that, this particular moment needed to be captured, technology had to be used to document it and it is with us forever.

Tiana Day is another inspiring young woman who has found her mission in the advocacy of youth just like her. In recognizing that young people have a power and strength and outlook on life can be a power unmatched, she has tapped into that by offering a space for youth to discover their talents, their voice and their own mission. In researching her background and watching her work, you can see that she has a genuine interest in elevating the role of her generation. It is so inspiring to see young women like this use their power to uplift others.

Another trailblazer in this realm of advocacy is artist Amy Sherald who also created the portrait of the former First Lady Michelle Obama. Her work in my opinion is distinctive and synonymous to her gaze on the black woman. She emphasizes the subjects, beauty with simplicity in her portrait. I think she created an image of Breonna that is simply beautiful. A portrait to remind us that what was taken from this earth was not just a name but a complete and full individual whose right was to live and in her portrait she will live on.