#a fatal dub has occurred

[sir-sunny]

all about shino!!!!!

below is shino's background and role in the killing game >:)

SO BASICALLY on the the lucky student spectrum we've got makoto whos got rly good luck, nagito whos got rly good luck and rly bad luck, and then shino who's just got rly bad luck

background

shino's a very accident-prone person. in their early life, they were an adventurous kid. however, they were inflicted with many injuries nearly every time they left the house. because of this, they started to fear the world. as they got older, they became more reserved, unwilling to go outside or talk to other people.

unfortunately, shino's bad luck only followed them as unlucky things would start happening at home. like a large tree falling on the house destroying their bedroom, the entire house being flooded, blackouts occurring for days, and the list goes on.

until finally, a fire breaks out the engulfs the entire house and claims the life of shino's parents. (this fire is the reason that shino has scars all over their body)

time passes blah blah shino goes to an orphanage, bad things continue to happen, until one fateful day, shino recives a letter from a certain school (hopes peak)

at hopes peak

around school, their bad luck is notorious and their classmates lovingly dub shino the ultimate unlucky student (much to shino's annoyance)

shino doesn't really have any close relations within their class. save for one student who often goes out of their way to include them and be kind to them. and that person is lucy mitchel. shino of course is outwardly very irritated with lucy and her gifts and check ins and jokes, however maybe there's a part of them who likes the idea of having someone they can call a friend

not that that matters in the killing game, however. considering shino along with everyone else lost their school memories along with all their relations.

killing game

speaking of the killing game, shino is a killer. in the second chapter (chapt name pending im trying to think of a good name), shino drowns lucy mitchel in the school fountain.

NOW the resoning behind this killing can be traced back to the motive of chapt 2, "if a killing doesnt occur within 48 hours, a student will be chosen at random to be executed." as u can imagine this motive was particularly concerning for shino to hear.

shino firmly believes that if a killing doesnt happen, they'll definitely be chosen to die. this drives them a little bonkers. lucy notices shino's inner turmoil and has a talk with them at the fountain and well.. u know how that turns out.

(its also worth noting that evidence shows that lucy put up no kind of struggle and may have given up her life in hopes to help shino survive but its up for interpretation hhhh)

execution

SO OKAY shino's execution is a good ol game of russian roulette. with multiple guns

a multitude of guns are each loaded with a single bullet and and the cylinders are spun. the guns are pointed at different areas of shinos body, for instance, theres one pointing at their, foot, calf, shoulder, thigh, etc. while their tied up in a chair.

theres a very long pause when suddenly the guns go off one after the other, each and every one of them go off without exception.

unfortunately these bullet shots are not fatal and shino is still faintly conscious, bleeding profusely. they watch as one final gun is loaded with a bullet and pointed directly at their forehead. the trigger is pulled aaaaand

the gun jams

suddenly the guns all lower and the lights dim and shino is left to bleed out slowly and painfully

and thats unfortunately the end of shino tokuma (unless i can figure out a way to bring everyone back to life like sdr2 did but prob not)

#LET ME KNOW WHO I SHOULD DO NEXT EHHEEG #danganronpa #fanganronpa #fangan oc #art #shino tokuma

[miyakuli]

Pocket Mirror ~ GoldenerTraum

Mirror, Mirror on the wall

Pocket Mirror is a horrific game in which we follow a young girl with amnesia who is lost in a gloomy, absurd world and tries to escape through a series of puzzles. While the aesthetics and atmosphere of the universe won me over completely, I have more reservations about the writing and the emotions it seeks to convey.

❤ Let's start with the game's biggest strength: the atmosphere is insane (literally). The pixel art is highly detailed, the lighting effects are magnificent, the scenery can go from cute and neat to chaotic and sinister, and the light animations are dynamic and often bloodcurdling effective. I also loved the contrast between the horrific aspect of the scenes and the cute chara-design of the characters, a bit like Puella Magica for those in the know. There are also quite a few visual ideas that play on this contrast of tone to make you feel extremely uncomfortable, without resorting to easy jump scares or excess hemoglobin. ❤ The sound atmosphere is not to be outdone either. The music is memorable, adding a touch of mystery and disquiet to the exploration of the rooms. But the game also relies on scary sound elements (footsteps, evil laughter etc…) as well as moments of oppressive silence, which worked extremely well on me x) ❤ The gameplay is fairly varied overall, with exploration, puzzles, chases (I hated every second of it), mini-games, etc. I never felt redundant during my game.

+/- The game's puzzles take two forms: on the one hand, there's the rpg aspect, with objects to find to interact with elements of the setting; on the other, there are text-based riddles in the style of Sphynx. The difficulty can alternate between easy and a little more intermediate, which provides a bit of a challenge, but I found some of the titles very confusing and their solutions sometimes convoluted. +/- The story is captivating from the start. We face all these horrific events without understanding anything, totally perplexed like our MC who has lost her memory. But this confusion lasts right up to the end, in fact, because the scenario remains far too ambiguous, and even though the game hints at some answers here and there, it ends with a feeling of incompleteness. I did understand the underlying plot, but the way the game skims over the truth left me rather indifferent in the end. +/- The characters are excellent in their creepiness, but we don't get attached to them at all. And yet the game seems to want us to feel something, given certain scenes where the heroine sincerely tries to create a bond with them....but it just doesn't work. First of all, the main girl is just too bland and interacts with everyone in the same way (all sweet and naive) which, in my opinion, doesn't create any real chemistry with the other girls. But on top of that, these ones have very short "arcs" where we're more often dealing with their demonic character than their more human side, and as a result, I find myself rather indifferent to their fate. +/- There's a good amount of replayability given the various endings, but there's no quick skip for the dialogue and some of the cut scenes…and some of the endings are hard to reach without reading a guide, which is a shame.

✖ The game has a lot of game-overs, which isn't a bad thing in itself, but some of them occur after actions based on chance (for example, you take the wrong direction in a corridor and you die, or you make the wrong choice in a dialogue that didn't indicate any fatal fate). It wouldn't have bothered me so much if the save points weren't so far away from these events, as it often means having to take again a long path or even a cut scene that you can't always get past. It got very tiresome at times. ✖ I've got nothing against dubbing in onomatopoeia, but the little laughs and giggles from the damsels are far too frequent and almost annoying. ✖ I find the object interface a bit messy and not quickly accessible.

I was totally drawn into the world of this game, and it succeeds perfectly in its aim of making its audience both nervous and enchanted by this hellish wonderland. But it left me on the side of the road when it came to its story and its characters, who were a little too elusive for my taste.

➡ My Steam page

#pocket mirror #pocket mirror goldenertraum #I didn't play every endings for the moment - will keep this for later #personal #Lola plays games #Youtube

[clumsiestgiantess]

Day 15; lore from my main story!

[Pulled from a classified document found on the desk of Commander and Head Supervisor of Unusual Occurrences Ground Operations Henry Blanche]

Due to the failure in our most recent technological advancements, our world, and presumably the one we’ve tried to contact, is beginning to experience strange unnatural phenomena.  For simplicity’s sake, it has been dubbed Reality Dragging.  The process seems to have occurred as our two realities became linked, then unlinked, within the same second.  Since this experiment, these links have been spontaneously opening for short periods of time all over the globe.  Anything that can fit through the brief tear created when our worlds are linked can be dragged into the opposite reality.  It doesn’t matter where the thing is when it is Dragged, but the spot where it is Dragged from will produce a strange energy.  It is still unknown whether said energy can be harnessed by anything other than a being that was Dragged, or if we can safely travel through and return from these spots.  As of now, we know that whatever is Dragged into a new reality has no way to return to its place of origin.  It does exhibit a few strange traits if it’s a sentient and functioning creature, however.

The following information has been found through a trial and error process that involves numerous Dragged specimens’ deaths:

Further abilities have been noted in extreme cases where a Dragged being died as [redacted] that the reality of a Dragged being will cease to function until that being is returned to its origin point (aka the place and time it left).  This is likely due to [redacted] unable to correct itself because a Dragged being is [redacted] predicament would be righted and the energy spot would seal up again.

Slingshotting- [redacted]

[redacted]? - [redacted]

Depending on the type of death, different specialized abilities develop in the Dragged being that cheated said death.  However, using these abilities puts strain on the being depending on how much of their ability is expended.

Weather manipulation - Stems from bleeding to death.  The Dragged being can breathe different types of weather into the air.  Coughing causes thunderstorms, sneezing causes tornadoes, sighing causes rainstorms, yawning causes a clear day.  Fatigued by the range of the weather.

Persuasion - Stems from being fatally impaled.  The Dragged being can make anyone they see start feeling a stronger and stronger version of their feelings in that moment.  The symptoms can get so severe that the affected person may start hallucinating or imagining scenarios that magnify their emotions.  The only way to stop it is for the Dragged being to touch said person.  Fatigued by the more people they affect.

Creation - Stems from being electrocuted to death.  The Dragged being is able to re-mould an existing item into whatever it wants by simply Dragging it between realities.  The items can also display whatever properties the Dragged being allows it to have.  Fatigued by the size of their created object.

Morphing - Stems from drowning to death.  The Dragged being can reshape their body to look like any one thing.  They have to be looking at the thing they want to copy, or in some cases they only need to remember it well enough.  Fatigued by how much change is required.

Teleportation - Stems from a fatal heart failure.  The Dragged being can bring anything they can clearly picture to themselves from any location on the planet.  Fatigued by the size of the object.

Combustion & Fire Immunity -  Stems from dehydration/starvation.  The Dragged being can heat anything they touch to a point where most materials will catch on fire.  The longer they touch an object and the harder they concentrate, the hotter the object becomes.  The being themselves is immune to extremely high temperatures, and can even set themself ablaze without issue.  Fatigued by the amount of time it takes to heat up.

Radiance - Stems from blunt force trauma to vital places. The Dragged being can light themselves up with a strange glow both on command and when frightened. The brightness can be enough to quickly blind someone who looks at them. The glow is internal and spreads outwards. Fatigued by the brightness they conjure up.

Further experimentation needed before properly harnessing such powers above. Continue capturing specimens until further instruction.

#there’s quite a few hints about arc 3 of The Other-world Universe in here #I legitimately had to redact some stuff because the info will spoil plot twists further ahead #enjoy your lore! #other-world universe #GtWAC

[intoseaa]

write about jeff the killer

ok so basically one fun thing about me is that every original creation ive ever made has had Jeff the Killer in it because hes public domain and i find it unimaginably funny to think that he's in every setting ever

in the process i have thought about how id improve the original jeff the killer (including elements of other "fixes" and retellings with my own spin of hereditary nonsense and generational trauma) . jeffin it up under the cut . Sorry if i repeat his name too much its just really funny to read out loud that way

content warnings: sh, extremely lightly implied incest, homophobia, implied parental neglect, Jeff the Killer

When grandpa died, Jeff, 7 years old as he recalled, as if he could ever forget every little moment of his birthday, heard a lot of terms to describe it. Though no celebration before had been especially glamorous, Jeff's excitement for the day was bashed rather fast when there was not only not so much as the scent of cake in the kitchen, but the grim news of his grandfather's passing and his mother weeping in the kitchen.

Around the point he found out that what had occurred was apparently hereditary, in hindsight, Jeff thought that was probably the point where his life began to go downhill.

Fatal familial insomnia is a rare genetic condition, provoking dementia, muscle twitching, and most prominently, total inability to sleep. Like many prions, there is no treatment, prevention, or really anything you could possibly do if it happened.

He knew because the days he was allowed on the computer were mostly spent researching what happened to his grandfather. Something about it scared his little mind so much that it generated what his mother titled an "obsession." His older brother Lou was kinder, dubbing it an interest in learning or some other equally flowery way of saying Jeff was thinking way too fucking much about this goddamn disease.

His father did not notice. Indeed, the whole ordeal from his grandpa's death to Jeff randomly getting too scared to sleep (counterproductively...) seemed lost on the salaryman.

----

Somniphobia is the irrational fear of sleep.

As stupid as it was, Jeff found the news that his blood may carry something that will kill him through the lack of something so inoccuous to be a vessel to avoid it completely.

The standard age of onset was 50 or so, but it could be as early as 13, and Jeff's constant self-torture went above and beyond in developing paranoia that he had finally gotten FFI. At that point Lou's endless empathy had somehow been expended, and even he had to giggle when Jeff opened up about it.

Jeff didn't like being laughed at.

Lou shooed him out of his room, and the young Jeff went back to reading case after case from Reddit to 4chan to forums with inconceivable names he didn't even remember, all throughout the night, up until he inevitably conked out whether he wanted to or not. Little awaited him but nightmares.

----

Jeff's first time seeing a dead body was rather formative. At 14, he and some friends (far be it from him to remember their names,) went out into the woods, and there it was: a dead boy around their age, charred beyond recognition. They gazed at it wordlessly, and when each went home, the image stayed in most of their minds in a place of horror, a reflection of something that could happen to them.

Not for Jeff.

Jeff saw the closed eyelids, and in a moment of awareness admittedly rare for the boy, he saw rest he noted he was keeping himself from getting. Every day was marked by the lack of it, and for a moment he envied that dead boy, not in the sense of death, but in the sense that he looked like he was asleep.

That night, his nightmare consisted of his grandfather, finally waking up in the coffin he was buried in. Not dead.

Merely an unfortunate subject of sleep debt.

As he clawed at the wood, as his nails sloughed off in his desperate attempt to escape, as blood began dripping down onto him, Jeff got closer and closer to waking up, but, well.

For a nightmare, when he eventually did shoot up in his bed, he noted he got such restful sleep.

----

Lou was frequently bullied. The poor guy had a birthmark that made it look like one half of his face kinda smiled all the time but not really. It was actually kind of uncanny to look at to a few kids.

This bothered Jeff. He cared a lot, maybe a little too much about his darling brother, and seeing it really upset him.

Because Jeff didn't like to be laughed at.

So it was up to a few dumb ideas on his part. He admitted it wasn't a very smart plan, and he would probably be caught. A cop was gonna come to his house and take him away for the rest of his life, maybe. But on the off chance that that wasn't true, he decided to play a little prank on the main 3 guys that picked on his darling brother.

Contrary to his expectations, there were no survivors.

Secondarily, there was no suspect.

The case went cold. Maybe Lou had an idea, but of course, his loyal big brother chalked it up to paranoia.

Jeff didn't like to be laughed at.

----

Jeff had problems making friends.

He didn't have a good memory (symptom 2, dementia), was frequently tired (symptom 3, total insomnia), and came off as what a teacher might refer to as "special." His mother disagreed, and he listened to his mother because she was always right, even if she was clearly wrong.

A misplaced "hey Charles" to a delinquent named some shit like Bob might have even gotten him hit. He didn't want to be hurt, nor did he want to have to hurt someone. He saw that as a rather steep inconvenience that took a lot of planning, one that can easily go wrong and send them straight to what he referred to, in his mind, as sleep.

He was scared to send the rest of them to sleep. Jeff was afraid of sleep.

Eventually, though, the band of delinquents at his school invited him to a party. Admitting it openly, he kind of idolized them. They found him kind of funny and almost cute, and more than one boy stared at him a little too much. Jeff didn't understand because he thought that was what boys did to girls, and Jeff wasn't a girl. Maybe the long hair made him look like one.

He appreciated the attention in any case. He liked to stare at that boy too. He actually bothered to remember that boy's name (or he did back then.) He couldn't tell you now.

----

At the party Jeff sat on the other side of that boy during spin the bottle, next to some guy named Bob apparently or some shit like it. He mostly recognized him because he had brought this bottle of whiskey for him and only for him. No one noticed or pointed it out, but he could hear his mother at the church going on and on and on and

The bottle landed on him, and the delinquent bunch started laughing.

The boy in front of him looked hopeful for a moment, but that disappeared with the first chortle and the bottle quietly spun again. Jeff felt disappointed.

He didn't know why.

It showed on his face, because first the girls started laughing and then went the boys and then went his mother in his head going on on and on and on and on. He was getting very tired of it.

Jeff didn't like to be laughed at.

He pretend to giggle as well for a moment. "I need to pee."

Blurting it out really awkwardly seemed to convince them. It sounded repulsive to him, personally.

Coming back from the bathroom, some girl had left. The boy he liked more than the rest and the boy apparently named some shit like Bob were, for whatever reason, squabbling.

He couldn't tell you now what they were going on about, but he remembered what he said.

"It seems like you're overreacting a little bit."

The boy named Bob(?) stared right at him, eyes like the headlights of a car, as he wrestled his lighter out of his pocket after unscrewing the cap on his bottle of whiskey.

"You little shit, I'll make you pay for that," he slurred.

----

At the hospital, he was informed his burns were relatively mild. Lou hugged him and sobbed and Jeff let him even though he thought he was just overreacting a little bit.

Jeff didn't like to be cried over, either.

He wondered if the boy he liked more than the rest would see him.

Of course he didn't.

When he was released, the looks he had originally boasted were fading. His hair was no longer the natural, deep black it originally was, and suddenly it seemed entirely ashy and generally upsetting and gross. The scars pockmarked his body, and they reminded him somewhat of a fractal he saw once, at least in shape. He looked awful.

Jeff stopped coming to school about as soon as Lou stopped forcing him.

He didn't really feel the same. He felt like there was a big wad of burning cotton stuffed in his skull, something the alcoholic flames had set alight.

The night he was discharged from the hospital, he took a good look at his darling brother. He saw a certain beauty in the "smile," and in the unblinking, teary eyes. He felt bad.

He felt ugly.

Standing before the bathroom mirror with a knife, he thought he could make it better. His pale face was reflected back at him with such a hideous series of scars that it felt like mockery.

Jeff didn't like to be laughed at.

----

Right as Jeff felt beautiful, his mother saw the devil.

He felt safe now that it hurt to close his eyes. The cuts on his eyelids burned, blood in his eyes, and dear god, what a radiant smile!

He would never have to sleep again, the way it hurt.

As she called for a priest nearby, his father finally looked at him as if Jeff mattered. Armed with a baseball bat, he saw the devil in his son and-

----

Blood on the floor. His mother face down, and his father face up, eyelids forced shut. He decided to give them smiles they didn't have in life. Jeff liked to make people smile.

Unfortunately, as Lou gazed down at Jeff, he was so unimaginably scared that not a single thing even comparable to a smile graced his face. He looked almost like one of those split masks, between tragedy and comedy.

Jeff cared a little too much about Lou. Killing their parents had felt good, but it felt a lot worse now that Lou didn't like what he had done.

"You see?"

Jeff uttered. The smoke in his lungs gave the quiet boy a rasp.

"I look just like you now."

His darling brother was too beautiful to kill.

As he turned and walked out the door, Lou waited for the police to arrive. He didn't run. Jeff's loyal brother didn't do a thing.

He saw his parents, sound asleep.

The police had taken him, but when more and more bodies turned up just like the ones they'd found, the cops found it harder and harder to justify keeping the catatonic boy.

#the talker #the writer #jtk #creepypasta jtk #jeff the killer #jeff the killer creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta #jeffery woods #jeffrey woods #18+ mdni #answers #ilove writing requests give me give me give m

[addaxus]

The next section of the timeline is up and ready. Enjoy it!

Beginning (and End) of El Brujo

1871-1877 (Age 15-21)

By the age of 15, the triplets' responsibilities considerably increase. The locals continue to dread and detest Bruno for his Gift, blaming their misfortunes on him rather than doing anything to change or prepare for it. He also struggles to live up to Alma's expectations of him. Expectations based on his mother's idealized recollection of Pedro. She hasn't told her children about the more shameful details of their lives before Encanto.

In an attempt to assist her son, Alma requests that he perform a vision for their Familia. This attempt fails when all it reveals is a future of destruction for Encanto, with an unknown spectacled girl standing in front of a broken Casita.

Alma's relationship with Bruno suffers as a result of the vision experience. He seeks sanctuary within the walls of Casita, where he creates his own private haven. There he finds camaraderie with the rats through their mutual ostracization by everyone else in Encanto.

Julieta discovers and discloses Bruno's secret hiding location to her mother out of worry for his well-being. This escalated to an argument in which Alma physically strikes Bruno before demanding that the hideaway be sealed. Bruno yells angrily at his sisters to leave, then trashes the place in a fit of rage.

Later, a minor tremor occurs, opening a small path through the mountains. Bruno, distraught and emotional, claws his way through the tunnel, the entrance falling behind him. Alma, Julieta, and Pepa soon learn Bruno has gone missing.

Bruno struggles to survive in the Wild West. His ability to predict the future turns out to be an essential survival tool in this hostile and lawless world. After a period of barely scraping by, a dejected and disheveled Bruno wanders into the declining town of Nueva Fortuna (New Fortune) where he enters a saloon owned by former mercenary and killer Clarence LeRoy. Old LeRoy takes the young Madrigal boy in.

After a few weeks of working in the saloon, Bruno gets into a fight with two cowboys, Mucci and Campbell. Mucci, who is inebriated, accuses Bruno of stealing and physically beats him, with Campbell assisting in the assault. During the altercation, Bruno inadvertently stabs Campbell in the gut, fatally wounding the cowboy, who dies a slow, agonizing death asking for his mama. The young man is obviously upset by this situation. Mucci swears vengeance before Clarence dispatches him.

Mucci returns with four other cowboys on a dark and stormy night. Clarence fights them off as best he can, but the assailants do manage to set the saloon on fire with molotov cocktails. A wounded Mucci flees to the town outhouse, where he is discovered by Bruno, who shoots him three times with the cowboys own firearm, Memento. Bruno, feeling horrible and unwilling to burden Clarence any further, leaves him, but has a sensation (vision) that they will meet again in the future.

Clarence and Bruno cross paths several times throughout the next five years. Every time, Clarence is typically in the midst of a new business endeavor. Clarence notices Bruno's decline with each meeting, which he attributes to adolescent behavior exacerbated by the harshness of the Wild West.

Simultaneously, rumor spreads about a teenage gunfighter with the devil's eyes and disposition. Even when appearing caught by surprise, he is quick on the draw. Nobody knows who he is or where he comes from. More superstitious people believe his mother was a witch who slept with the devil to conceive him. As a result, he is dubbed El Brujo (The Witch).

Pieces of information about El Brujo's deeds are carried on unnatural winds to Encanto. Alma, Julieta, and Pepa are shaken by the outlaws' fanciful but sparse accounts because they sound suspiciously similar to someone they know all too well.

Cattleman Samuel McGraw hires Clarence as a hired hand to accompany him, his wife Audrey, and their daughter May on a cross-country trip through a dangerous region. Cattle rustlers ambush the group halfway through their journey. Samuel is killed, while Old LeRoy is wounded. Bruno is revealed to be one of the rustlers. Upon seeing Clarence’s injured state, Bruno turns on his gang and executes them all with cold frightening ease before personally slaying the head rustler.

Bruno resolves to assist Clarence, Audrey, and May in completing their journey. His seemingly innate capacity to predict danger makes him crucial to their survival. Everyone is oblivious of his Gift and the suffering it brings him. He copes with his pain by occasionally sipping booze.

When they arrive at their location, Bruno invites Clarence to the bar for drinks. When Old LeRoy insists on the Madrigal lad returning home, what appears to be a typical night of companionship between them devolves into an argument. Bruno bitterly refuses and attempts to retire for the evening. Unfortunately, May, who considers Bruno responsible for her father's murder, dares him to a duel, which he accepts once she provokes him. Knowing May will not win, Clarence knocks Bruno out with a bottle of whiskey before handing him over to the law. This "betrayal" stings Bruno. Bruno escapes custody one night, killing two deputies on his way out. Clarence aims to shoot the youngster with his rifle as he rides away, but realizes he lacks the nerve to do so.

Clarence settled down as a rancher in Arizona by 1877. Sutherland, Phillips, Sheen, Mulroney, and Siemaszko, his hired workers, look up to him as a mentor figure. Rosemary, his estranged sister, brings her son Emilio Agustin Estevez Jr. to work for him in an attempt to straighten him out. Emilio Senior, the boy's father, was a jerk who left a long time ago.

El Brujo's behavior has become increasingly erratic and violent in the meantime. He's amassed a $1000 bounty on his head, attracting all manner of people eager for a quick buck.

Agustin is initially at odds with the other hired hands due to his near-sightedness and refusal to wear spectacles, messing up more than one job. The boys do eventually bond over their mutual interest in Wild West Tall Tales. When a terrible drought strikes Old LeRoy's ranch, the boys advise going after El Brujo, who is said to have departed New Mexico for Texas. Clarence quickly refuses such an undertaking upon hearing the name El Brujo, albeit he does not explain why.

The boys decide to pursue El Brujo on their own. They buy a bunch of guns (on Clarence's tab) before riding off to Texas. On the way, they choose to call themselves the Young Guns. They arrive at Perdition and spend the night drinking, boasting, and celebrating their future prosperity. An inebriated El Brujo turns up and slaughters the novice Yourng Guns, killing Sutherland, Phillips, Sheen, Mulroney, and Siemaszko with eyes flashing a horrible green. Only Agustin remains.

Clarence arrives just as El Brujo is about to execute Agustin. Their interaction reveals El Brujo is actually Bruno. Old LeRoy sees his boys dead and what the young Madrigal kid has become. Both draw on the other, with El Brujo coming out on top. Bruno, visibly distressed by what he has done, retreats into the night, leaving Agustin with Clarence, who gives some final words of wisdom as he dies.

Agustin buries his uncle and pals in Perdition. Rosemary, bereaved, disowns him. Josef Egger, the town undertaker, takes pity on the youngster and directs him to find his fresh new start somewhere around the Rio Grande. Young Estevez follows the undertaker's advice, pays his respects, and makes his way to the Rio Grande.

El Brujo vents his grief over Clarence's death elsewhere. He's hiding away among rats and empty booze bottles on a run-down ranch. Instead of acknowledging his faults and taking responsibility, El Brujo stubbornly believes the old guy never truly cared about him.

Three riders arrive at the ranch. El Brujo gears himself for a fight, but no warning vision appears. Instead, the newcomers ask to ride along with him. El Brujo implements his brutal initiation approach here, resulting in the lead gunfighter being shot by his buddies. To demonstrate their allegiance and subordination, the two remaining riders dump their fallen comrade in the ranch house before setting it ablaze. They then ride away together while the ranch burns behind them.

Agustin is led into Encanto by a golden butterfly. He’s taken aback by everything around him. So amazed, in fact, that he becomes sidetracked and has an accident, injuring his leg. Julieta heals him, displaying their magic. She offers to assist Agustin in becoming acquainted with the town, which he accepts. Alma eventually meets and talks with Agustin about his circumstances, considering the fact that he arrived alone. Agustin gives Alma the bare bones of what happened before his arrival. Hearing that the youngster has lost his uncle and friends as a result of an unlawful slaughter is enough for the Madrigal Matriarch. She greets him as a new member of the community.

#encanto #unforeseen: the fable of el ojos diablos #unforeseen #timeline

[uqualio]

AI in Learning, Good or Evil? 

Artificial intelligence (AI) was once the stuff of science fiction, but it is now a reality.

The epic science fiction film 2001: A Space Odyssey, directed by Stanley Kubrick, pits humanity against HAL, a computer with a human mentality. HAL served as the spaceship's operating system (OS) up until a quarrel broke out, fatalities occurred, and (spoiler warning) the humans decided to turn off the system.

Terminator 2: Judgment Day, a successful science fiction movie, was directed by James Cameron in 1991. The struggle between AI and mankind is the main subject of the movie. According to the narrative, Cyberdyne Systems develops an autonomous national defense OS dubbed Skynet. Skynet seizes command of all US strategic defense systems in 1997.

The Biden administration's release of a Blueprint for an AI Bill of Rights, which is meant to be a call to action for the U.S. government to protect digital and civil rights in an AI-fueled society, coincides with Altman's speech before the US Congress. The strategy asks for the government and the private sector to collaborate and develop new regulations to control how the new technologies effect business and society at large, as opposed to concentrating on particular enforcement measures.

Limiting the effects of algorithmic bias, granting consumers control over their data, and ensuring that automated tools are utilized securely and openly are among the crucial key concepts outlined in the Blueprint.

Fueled by the power of American innovation, these tools hold the potential to redefine every aspect of our society and improve life for everyone," the White House Whitepaper concludes. Civil rights or democratic principles must not be sacrificed in order to make this significant progress.

Authorities from all across the world are rushing to create AI regulations. For several years, the European Parliament has been drafting AI safety regulations.

#artificial intelligence #lms platform #video learning #ai in education

[kayla1993-world]

Gunman kills 3 seniors over potluck dinner at Alabama church

The 70-year-old visitor had previously attended some services at St. Stephen's Episcopal Church before showing up for a potluck dinner, pulling out a handgun and fatally shooting three of the elderly attendees, one of whom died in his wife's arms as she whispered words of love in his ear.

The gunman was subdued and held until police arrived. The suspect was charged with capital murder Friday.

The bizarre violence in a wealthy suburb outside Birmingham stunned victims' families, stunned a community known for its family-centred lifestyle and heightened anxiety in a country still reeling from the recent massacres perpetrated by gunmen who attacked a Texas school, a New York grocery store and yet another church in California.

Two of the Alabama shooting victims were 84 years old and the third was 75 years old. They had gotten together with other members of the church for a “Boomers Potluck.” Rainey's favourite place was St. Stephens, a church that welcomes everyone with love. They said it was difficult to believe he was killed while attending a church dinner with his wife of six decades, in a statement released Friday.

Yeager died shortly after being taken to the hospital on Thursday. On Friday, the third victim died. Her name was not released right away by police, citing her family's for privacy.

If the shooter had not been apprehended, more people would have been killed or injured.

Smith, as well as the three victims, were all white. He added that police are still looking into what prompted the suspect, who attended church on occasion. Authorities searched Smith's home, which is less than 3 miles (4.8 kilometres) from the church, on Friday. Smith has a blackened left eye, as well as cuts to his nose and forehead.

Smith is a licensed gun dealer whose business address is the same as his home address. Smith sued Samford University, a private university in metro Birmingham, in 2008, alleging that campus security wrongfully detained him and accused him of impersonating a police officer.

The Thursday gathering was dubbed a “Boomers Potluck." He claimed he was on a pilgrimage in Greece with a group of members and was attempting to return to Alabama.

Curry told reporters that “this senseless act of violence" had shattered his close knit resilient loving community. Many business people, doctors and lawyers who work in Birmingham live in the bedroom community. Vestavia Hills is known for its excellent and laid-back atmosphere. It is home to 40K people, the majority of whom are white.

Bridges led an online prayer service on the church's Facebook page Friday morning. She prayed for the victims and churchgoers who witnessed the shooting, as well as the perpetrator of the shooting.

Bridges, who is currently in London, mentioned other recent mass shootings in her prayer for elected officials in Washington and Alabama “to see what has happened at St. Stephens and Uvalde and Buffalo and in so many other places and their hearts will be changed, minds will be opened."

In May and June, there were several high-profile shootings, beginning with a racist attack on a supermarket in Buffalo, New York on May 14 that killed ten Black people. The following week, a gunman opened fire at an elementary school in Uvalde, Texas, killing 19 children and two adults.

The shooting occurred just over a month after a man opened fire on Taiwanese parishioners at a church in Southern California, killing one person and injuring five others. It comes nearly seven years to the day after nine people were killed during a Bible study at Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, South Carolina, by an avowed white supremacist.

Agents from the FBI, U.S. Marshals Service and the Bureau of Alcohol, Firearms, Tobacco and Explosives joined investigators at the scene, which was cordoned off with yellow police tape and police vehicles with flashing lights on Friday.

Thousands of people rallied across the United States on Saturday, on the National Mall in Washington, D.C., to renew calls for stricter gun control measures. Survivors of mass shootings and other forms of gun violence testified and lobbied legislators on Capitol Hill earlier this month.

Late Thursday, Ivey issued a statement lamenting the shocking and tragic loss of life. “This should never happen — in a church, in a store, in the city or anywhere," she wrote, adding that she was glad the suspect was in custody.

[motorcycle-accidents-san-marcos]

Are Motorcycle Accidents Increasing - Motorcycle Accident Attorneys San Marcos

Why Are Motorcycle Accidents Increasing? You might have wondered if there is a reason why motorcycle accidents are on the rise. There is a rise in motorcycle accidents. The number of fatalities and serious injuries has gone up as well. The main reason could be an auto driver's error. Incorrect lane usage can cause accidents and could lead to hospitalization. To lessen the chance of crashing into a motorcycle, auto drivers should use more caution and observe safety rules. More motorcycle accidents There has been an increase in the number of motorcycle accidents in America in recent years. According to the National Safety Council in 2015, more than 4,000 motorcycle crashes caused injuries or deaths. The number of collisions grew by 3% in the last year, with collisions that resulted in injuries to females and males representing about half of the total. Motorcycle injuries however, were mostly limited to the lower and upper extremities. The chest and head injuries however, were the most common cause of a third of motorcycle crashes, and injuries to the abdominal region and spine were not common. More fatalities Many factors have led to the recent rise in fatalities from motorcycle accidents. Some of these include the high price of gasoline, the rising popularity of motorcycles, warmer weather patterns, as well as lax laws regarding wearing helmets. Michigan recently updated its helmet laws to ensure that riders over 21 years old are no longer required. Despite these changes however, the number fatalities on motorcycles has been increasing. Increase in serious injuries According to the National Trauma Database Bank-National Sample Program, the frequency of lower extremity injuries in motorcycle crashes has increased significantly. Nearly 47,000 motorcyclists sought treatment in trauma centers at levels I or II in 2003. Of those, about 19,000 had an AIS-2+ injury. The remaining 36,000 sufferers sustained lower extremity injuries. The average number of injuries to motorcycles that require surgery is less than two per patient. Auto drivers are causing more crashes An increase in the amount of motorcycle accidents caused by auto drivers is alarming. The study, dubbed "The Hurt Report" by USC researchers concluded that the majority of motorcycle accidents occurred when motorists failed to pay attention to motorcycles or did not yield when turning. Motorists do not take proper steps, such as yielding when turning to avoid a collision which can result in serious injuries. Despite the increased risk, motorists continue to ignore motorcycles, despite the obvious warning signs and signals. The effects of helmets The study found that wearing helmets for motorcycles could reduce the chance of TBI in motorcycle accidents. Motorcyclists with TBI are more likely than other riders to require long-term rehabilitation following a collision. motorcycle accident san marcos ca means that motorcyclists who have TBIs are more likely to face higher costs and experience worse outcomes. However, the study did not reveal the status of wearing helmets of motorcyclists, since helmet wear is not recorded in state crash databases. Economic conditions Motorcycle deaths are rising in a variety of countries. This is particularly evident in Latin America and North America where motorcycles account for significant proportions of the motorized population. Rapid economic growth has led to increased use of motor vehicles, which is often associated with poor public transportation policies. A lack of awareness or disregard for traffic laws can result in accidents on motorcycles. Yet, despite the high rate of motorcycle accidents the risks of riding a motorcycle are not only increasing, but also becoming more prevalent throughout the world. Increase in speed A rise in the number of motorcycle accidents caused by speeding can have many negative consequences for riders. First, increased speed increases the force of a collision, and the risk of serious injury. Also, as the reaction time of a motorbike driver is slower than an automobile driver the riders are more vulnerable to a crash. Because of this, speeding has been linked with an increase in fatal motorcycle crashes.

#motorcycle accident san marcos ca #motorcycle accident san marcos california #motorcycle accident atto

[fatal-error-blog]

Happy B-Day Fatal-Error! |Part 3| (Collab w/Mr Amazing VA & tehRouge) This part was done by https://ania-da-pez.tumblr.com/, go check them out, they’re aWESOME!!!! <3

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH OH NO I LOVED THIS SO MUCH!!! AHHHH!!!!! THEY DID SUCH A GREAT JOB!!! THEY ALL DID!!! EXCUSE ME WHILE I WATCH THIS ALL AGAIN A FEW TIMES!!!!

I’m so floored by how much time and work they put into this dub, it was such a sweet and awesome thing to do and it’s incredible and I’m shook so thank you all so super much again, I love this to bits and I’ll be smiling like an idiot for a very very long time!!

Ya’ll should ABSOLUTELY go check out their dubs!!! I’m gonna be reblogging all of them because I love them so muchh and they absolutely deserve it but be sure to see all three parts!! <3 THANK YA’LL SO MUCH!!!!! :’D

#comic dub #fatal error birthday #fatal error fanart #voice acting #a fatal dub has occurred #you guys reall tallk though #I listened to Fatal complaining about the floor like 35 times in a row #its sooo gosh darn funny #its my new favorite thing #also um I sound adorable in this?? #thank you thank you!!! <3

[abimee]

hi im a newer follower, do u have somewhere where u talk abt what you/me is and the basics for the story there? ur ocs all seem so cool and interesting

NOPE lets EXPLAIN IT ALL AGAIN, different verse same as the first

YOU/ME (tagged as You (Me) as it was previously called) is a video game I started making on August 2nd, 2016.

it starts on a land called the Fjallo Island, many years before. The old lore went that two child gods were at the front of creating the world: one wanted peace and happiness, and gave uo their existence to create the people of the Fjallo; the other one threatened chaos and destruction for being left behind, and gave up their existence to enter into the world to cause havoc.

To save the people, a system called the Morality System was put in ace that helped dictate how the world should operate so chaos and peace are perfectly balanced. To uphold this system, two queens were made:

- Konsanus, who was molded out of seafoam and sand

- Disonus, who was molded out of soil and smoke

They embodied opposing sides in hopes that their joined love will rule the kingdom in balance. Konsanus was known to be strict and a user of force, while Disonus was pacifist and caring, and the two wrote the laws and dictated the people of the land in an assumed equal of power.

The kingdom saw a rise in citizens and assimilators from the Greater Continent just North, and the kingdom of the Comicals begged for refuge after being exiled from the continent due to war. The court jester for the Fjallos, Comica, told the queen of the Comicals that they can live in the puddles out in the Valley, and they've lived parallel to the Fjallos since.

A fan favorite is Maliia, the court jester of the Comicals. Court Jesters are high ranking individuals that are the only ones known to use magic, and both Maliia and Comica are well established magic users who often put on plays and shows for the kingdoms. During the height of relations between the two, the Comicals were invited to a grand party where the jesters were to perform together ---- but on that fatal day something went horribly wrong, and Maliia ripped Comica's face clean off in front of both the kingdoms.

Konsanus, disturbed and outraged at the betrayal, yelled and threatened that the Comicals never return to their land lest they want to be killed one by one, and the Comical Queen was rushed back down into the puddles. Maliia was set for execution the next morning, but disappeared in the night, and now all connection between the kingdoms were severed until the clown gets found and killed for her aggressions.

The Fjallo island tried to recoup from the loss of their court jester and the fear of retaliation by the Comicals, as they are a weaponized kingdom that is skilled in FIGHTING where the Fjallo island cultivated a passive no-violence system under Disonus. Konsanus became worried about being unarmed, and their people grew restless; but Disonus promised that there would be no such fight, and that it was best to not get worked up in a frenzy.

To bring back hope in the kingdom after the rulers favor began to fall, The Queens had decided to finally have a child ---- here, they believed coning together would birth the ultimate balanced child, one that could rule the throne alone and keep the peace themself. Disonus offered to carry the child, and once the news broke of a successful pregnancy the kingdom began to get excited for a new era, the coming of a new generation!

The day the child was born was full of excitement in the land, and many celebrated in the streets or by visiting the queens, who were happy to show off the healthy baby. The success of the birth brought a renewed hope to the world, and was the rise of the oncoming fall.

Just below the kingdom, strange things began to occur in the Comical kingdom. The Queens daughter, IIIIIIII, has taken the throne not long ago, and had begun to grow in size until she was almost as big as her castle. She had slowly become reclusive, aggressive, and not like herself; the people had become fearful that something was terribly wrong, but nobody knew what, and they began to hide from their Queen; when the castle lights were on, the city went dark and the Comicals travelled in small groups by lamplight only a few feet, lest they signal the queen their existence and be killed. Nobody goes near the castle anymore, and those stuck inside are forced servitude to a parasitic husk of their rulers former self, with nobody to help them.

The night of the celebrations above ground in the Fjallo islands also proved to be very temporary joy ---- because when Disonus awoke the next day to wake her child, she had found that it had died in the night.

The news raked Disonus with guilt so extreme she couldnt even cry, and when her maid came to find her she immediately bolted, grabbing nothing but the sword that hung above the throne, and fleed. Upon the news that the child had died and Disonus had fled the castle, Konsanus called for a search guard to bring her home before the island awoke, but the search proved useless and the hundreds of guards came back with nothing to show of.

It wasnt long until word spread; the child wss dead, and the Queen has ran off and killed herself. The entire island went into uproar, and no matter how much Konsanus demanded more searches be done nothing ever was found, no sign of a body or where she could have gone.

Hell broke out in the coming days; strains amongst the citizens politically, the call to bring Disonus in and execute her for abandoning her people in a time of need, or the call to let her come home safely so that she may appear again. What were the people going to do, could they trust a one sided queen to rule them? Should Konsanus be dethroned? Many began to turn on each other and on Konsanus, and for three straight days the island fought amongst each other, taking lives and injuring many more.

Konsanus, distressed and pressured to do something, called for something unseen: an "Unrule".

In the Unrule, Konsanus exclaimed that whoever wished to continue under the ruling of only Konsanus until Disonus returned, they can enter into the inner city and live behind the castle walls; whoever wishes to live under no jurdistiction and fend for themselves must exit and live out in the rest of the land.

People began to pack up and flee into the city while others entered into the castle innercity, and the wall was permanently closed off between the two, leaving everyone outside to live purely by their own internal laws; anything was legal, nothing was illegal.

Even still, there was a divide; many Konsanus or neutral supporters stayed in the central city, while Disonus supporters moved to the valley seperated by the mountains. Despite the lack of laws, the people seemingly conducted themselves accordingly, and live slowly returned to normal, though times were tough and tensions were still high

During this time, a group of children were sent off to school in the valley: Lilly, an anxious frog; Capra-Marie, a bullheaded goat; Drew, brother of local doctor Mimi; and [mumbled], known as First Victim in her medical records.

Gods also began appearing, namely Sarah the Chaos god and Stopper the time god.

Mimi, a skeleton doctor, came to the island from the greater continent after there being whispers of a slowly rising sickness affecting the island, dubbed The Decay by the people. However, Mimi only has so long of time here before he winds up killing his girlfriend, Darcie, and mysteriously disappears, not too long after the death of three school children and the shut down of the only school on the island.

Years have passed, and Konsanus has begun getting anxious; Disonus cant be found in any shape, and nothing is working to bring her out of where shes hiding, if shes alive at all.

She decides, as bait, a last ditch attempt, to have a child of her own in hopes itll lure Disonus to come home

She successfully has the child, but in fear of it being tainted with bias she locks them away in a room to never be interacted with until Disonus comes home and they can raise the child in balance.

But Disonus never appears, and 11 years later, Konsanus falls gravely ill with The Decay.

Theres no other option.

The child must be sent out to find Disonus. If they can't, they must never return home.

You, 11 years old, is let out of the pitch black room for the first time, and is thrusted into the world.

And theres all sorts of things waiting for them out there!

#you (me) #original #ocs

[jamestaylorswift]

My giant goes with me wherever I go: a study of the geographic metanarrative of folklore

This topic has been rattling around in my brain ever since I first heard folklore and I think it’s endlessly fascinating. Cue this lengthy but (hopefully) intriguing piece.

I’m afraid the title may not be an accurate reflection of this essay’s content, so here’s a preview of talking points: geography, existence, metanarrative, making sense of the theme of death, the “peace”/“hoax”/“the lakes” trio, history/philosophy, and exactly one paragraph of rep/Lover analysis (as a treat).

I make the standard disclaimer that analysis is by definition subjective. Additionally, many thanks and credit to anyone else who has written analysis of folklore. I am sure my opinions have been influenced by yours, even subconsciously.

Questions, comments, and suggestions are always welcome, and thank you for taking the time to read :)

——

“Traveling is a fool’s paradise. We owe to our first journeys the discovery that place is nothing. At home I dream that at Naples, at Rome, I can be intoxicated with beauty and lose my sadness. I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea, and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me in the stern Fact, the sad self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from. I seek the Vatican, and the palaces. I affect to be intoxicated with sights and suggestions, but I am not intoxicated. My giant goes with me wherever I go.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

——

If Taylor Swift’s music is anything, it is highly geographic. Taylor has been a country, pop, and now alternative artist, yet a storyteller through and through—one with a special knack for developing the aesthetic of songs and even entire records through location. The people and places she writes about seem to mutually breathe life into each other.

It is plausible that Taylor, as a young storyteller, developed this talent by using places as veritable muses just like she did anything else. Furthermore, her confessional storytelling became much more geographic as she shifted to pop because of factors including (though certainly not limited to) purchasing real estate, traveling more, writing in a genre that canonically centers coastal cities, and dating individuals with their own established homes. The geographic motif in her work is so identifiable that all of the corresponding details are—for better or worse—commensurate to autobiography.

However, folklore is not autobiographical in the way that most understand her other albums to be. The relationship between people and places in folklore is likewise much less symbiotic.

The first two songs on the record illustrate this. We are at bare minimum forced to associate the characters of Betty and James with New York: the lyrics about the High Line imply a fraction of their relationship took place in this city. Even so, this does not imply Betty or James ever permanently resided in New York, or that Betty is in New York at the moment she is narrating the story of “cardigan.” Taylor places far more emphasis on James and the nostalgia of youth, with “I knew you” repeated as a hook, to develop the emotional tone of the song. Rhode Island also comes to life in “the last great american dynasty” because of Rebekah Harkness’ larger-than-life character. But Taylor, following Rebekah’s antagonism, states multiple times throughout the song that the person should be divorced from the place. folklore locations are never so revered that they gain the vibrancy of literal human life. Taylor refrains from saying a person is a place in the same way that she has said that she is New York or her lover is the West Village.

For an album undeniably with the most concrete references to location, it is highly irregular—even confusing, given that personification is such a powerful storytelling device—that Taylor does not equate location with personal ethos.

Regurgitating the truism that geography equals autobiography proves quite limiting for interpreting Taylor’s work. How, then, should geography influence our understanding of folklore?

I submit that the stories in folklore are not ‘about’ places but ‘of’ places which are not real. Taylor’s autobiographical fiction makes the settings of the songs similarly fictionalized, metaphorical, and otherwise symbolic of something much more than geography. It is this phenomenon which emotionally and philosophically distinguishes folklore from the rest of her oeuvre.

——

As a consequence of Taylor’s unusual treatment of location, real places in folklore become signposts for cultural-geographic abstractions. Reality is simply a set of worldbuilding training wheels.

Prominent geographic features define places, which define settings. The world of folklore is built from what I’ve dubbed as four archetypal settings: the Coastal Town, the Suburb, the City, and the Outside World.

Each has a couple defining geographic features:

Coastal Town: water, cliffs/a lookout

Suburb: homes, town

City: public areas, social/nightlife/entertainment venues

The Outside World serves as the logical complement of the other three settings.

Understanding that real location in folklore is neither interchangeable nor synonymous with setting is crucial. Rhode Island is like the Coastal Town, but the two settings are not one and the same. The Suburb is an idyllic mid-America setting like Nashville, St. Louis, or Pennsylvania; it is all of those places and none of them at the same time. The City may be New York City, but it is certainly not New York City in the way that Taylor has ever sung about New York City before. The Outside World is just away.

Put simply, folklore is antithetical to Taylor’s previous geographic doctrine. While we are not precluded from, for instance, imagining the City as New York City, we also cannot and should not be pigeonholed into doing so.

Note:

This album purports to embody the stereotypically American folkloric tradition. “Outside” means “anywhere that isn’t America” because the imagery and associations of the first three cultural-geographic settings indeed are very distinctly American.

While Nashville and St. Louis are relatively big cities, they are still orders of magnitude smaller than New York and LA, the urban centers that Taylor normally regards as big cities. In context of this essay, the former locations are Suburban.

In this essay, the purpose of the term ‘of’ is simply to replace the more strict term ‘about.’ ‘Of’ denotes significant emotion tied to a place, usually because of significant time spent there either in the past or present (tense matters). Not all songs are ‘of’ places—it may be ambiguous where action takes place—and some songs can be ‘of’ multiple places due to location changing throughout the story. (This does not automatically mean that songs with more than one location are ‘of’ two places. A passing mention of St. Louis does not qualify “the last great american dynasty” as ‘of’ the Suburb, for example.)

Each of the four archetypal settings must instead be understood as an amalgam of the aesthetics of every real location it could be. Setting then exists in conversation with metaphor because we have a shared understanding of what constitutes a generic Suburb, City, or Coastal Town.

Finally, by transitivity, the settings’ metaphorical significance entirely hinges upon the geographic features’ metaphorical significance. This is what Taylor authors.

The next part of the essay is concerned with deciphering geography in folklore per these guiding questions: how is an archetypal feature used as a metaphor? By proxy, what does that say about the setting defined by it? What theme, if any, unites the settings?

The Coastal Town: Water and Cliffs

The Coastal Town is defined by elemental features.

The first (brief) mentions of water occur on the first two tracks:

Roarin’ twenties, tossing pennies in the pool

Leavin’ like a father, running like water

“the last great american dynasty” introduces the setting to which the pool (water) feature belongs, our Rhode Island-like Coastal Town. It also incorporates a larger water feature, the ocean, and suggests the existence of a lookout or cliffs:

Rebekah gave up on the Rhode Island set forever

Flew in all her Bitch Pack friends from the city

Filled the pool with champagne and swam with the big names

//

They say she was seen on occasion

Pacing the rocks, staring out at the midnight sea

“seven” and “peace” also have brief mentions of water; however, note that these songs remain situated as ‘of’ the Suburb. (More on this later.)

I hit my peak at seven

Feet in the swing over the creek

I was too scared to jump in

But I’m a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm

If your cascade, ocean wave blues come

“my tears ricochet” and “mad woman” with their nautical references pertain to the water metaphor:

I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace

And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

Now I breathe flames each time I talk

My cannons all firin’ at your yacht

“epiphany” also counts, though with the understanding of “beaches” as Guadalcanal this song is ‘of’ the Outside World:

Crawling up the beaches now

“Sir, I think he’s bleeding out”

“this is me trying” and “hoax” reiterate the cliff/lookout geography:

Pulled the car off the road to the lookout

Could’ve followed my fears all the way down

Stood on the cliffside screaming, “Give me a reason”

Finally, “the lakes” features both water and cliffs:

Take me to the lakes, where all the poets went to die

//

Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry

//

While I bathe in cliffside pools

With my calamitous love and insurmountable grief

In folklore, water dovetails with permanent loss.

“epiphany” is the most egregious example. Crawling up the beaches of a war zone proves fatal. “the lakes” describes grieving in water, perhaps for the loss of one’s life because there exist cliffs from which to jump. “this is me trying” and “hoax” mirror that idea. On the other hand, in “peace,” death does not seem to have any connection to falling from a height.

Loss can also mean loss of sanity, such as with the eccentric character of Rebekah Harkness or Taylor as a “mad woman” firing cannons at (presumably) Scooter Braun’s yacht.

Subtler are the losses alluded to in “my tears ricochet” and “seven,” of identity or image and childhood audacity, respectively. And in the opening tracks water is at its most benign, aligned with loss of a relationship that has run its course in one’s young adulthood.

The most fascinating aspect of water in folklore is that it is an aberration from water as the symbol for life/birth/renewal, derived from maternity and the womb. folklore water taketh away, not giveth.

As of now, the greater significance of the Coastal Town—the meaning to which this contradiction alludes—remains to be seen.

The City: Nightlife, Entertainment, and Public Areas

Preeminent in Taylor’s pop work is the City; New York City, Los Angeles, and London are the locations most frequently extolled as Swiftian meccas. This archetypal setting is given a more understated role in folklore.

“cardigan,” ‘of’ the City, illustrates this setting using public environments and nightlife:

Vintage tee, brand new phone

High heels on cobblestones

//

But I knew you

Dancin’ in your Levi’s

Drunk under a streetlight

//

I knew you

Your heartbeat on the High Line

Once in twenty lifetimes

//

To kiss in cars and downtown bars

Was all we needed

“mirrorball” paints the clearest picture of the City’s nightlife/social venues by sheer quantity of lyrics:

I’m a mirrorball

I’ll show you every version of yourself tonight

I’ll get you out on the floor

Shimmering beautiful

//

You are not like the regulars

The masquerade revelers

Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten

//

And they called off the circus, burned the disco down

“invisible string” briefly mentions a bar:

A string that pulled me

Out of all the wrong arms, right into that dive bar

In addition, “this is me trying” implies that the speaker may currently be at a bar, making the song partially ‘of’ the City:

They told me all of my cages were mental

So I got wasted like all my potential

//

I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere

Fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here

Pouring out my heart to a stranger

But I didn’t pour the whiskey

It goes almost without saying that the City at large is alcohol-soaked. Indeed, alcohol will help us understand this location.

Each of the aforementioned songs has a distinct narrator, like Betty in the case of “cardigan” or Taylor herself, at the very least in the case of “mirrorball” or at most all songs besides “cardigan.” And because the narrative character is so strong, I posit that the meaning of this geography is tied to what alcohol reveals about the speakers of the songs themselves.

“invisible string” and “mirrorball” are alike in the fact that the stories extend well beyond or even completely after nightlife. Meeting in a dive bar in “invisible string” is just the catalyst for a relationship that feels fated. Taylor, in her “mirrorball” musing, expresses concern about how she is perceived by someone close to her. Does existing after the fact (of public perception, at an entertainment venue) constitute an authentic existence? Alcohol, apparently a necessary part of City life, predates events which later haunt the speakers. Emotional torment is then what prompts the speakers to recount their stories.

On the other hand, alcohol directly reveals the emotional states of the speakers in “cardigan” and “this is me trying.” “cardigan” is Betty’s sepia-toned memory of her time with James, in which James’ careless, youthful spirit (“dancin’ in your Levi’s, drunk under a streetlight” and “heartbeat on the High Line”) inspires sadness and nostalgia for their ultimately temporary relationship (“once in twenty lifetimes”). “this is me trying” is tinged with the speaker’s bitterness; hopelessness and regret lead them to the bar and the destructive practice of drinking just to be numb.

These observations suggest that the City is also a site of grief or loss, though not for the same reason that the Coastal Town is. Whereas the Coastal Town is associated with a permanent ending such as death, the City reveals an ending that is more transitional and wistful, tantamount to a coming of age. There is a clear ‘before’ and ‘after’ to loss related to the City: life, though changed, goes on.

The Suburb: Homes and Towns

Noteworthy though the City and Coastal Town may be, the former in particular concerning the pop mythology of Taylor Swift, it is the Suburb which Taylor most frequently references in folklore and establishes as the geographical heart of the album.

The Suburb is defined by a home and town. A “home” encompasses entrances (front/side doors), back and front yards (gardens/lawns/trees/weeds/creeks), and interiors (rooms/halls/closets). The “town” is pretty self-explanatory, with a store, mall, movie theater, school, and yogurt shop.

Observe that the folklore Suburb is the aesthetic equivalent of the “small town” that provided the debut and Fearless albums’ milieu and inspired the country mythology of Taylor Swift. While Taylor primarily wrote about home and school on those albums (because, well, that was closer to her experience as a teenager), the “small town” and the folklore Suburb are functionally the same with regard to pace, quality, and monotonicity of life. Exhibit A: driving around and lingering on front doorsteps are the main attractions for young adults. (From my personal experience growing up in a Suburb, this is completely accurate. And yes, the only other attractions are the mall and the movie theater.)

The Suburb becomes a conduit for conflict.

Conflict that Taylor explores in this setting, including inner turmoil, dissension between characters, and friction between oneself and external (societal) expectations, naturally can be distinguished by distance [1] between the two forces in conflict. As an example, ‘person vs. self’ implies no distance between the sides because they are both oneself. ‘Person vs. society’ is conflict in which the sides are the farthest they could conceivably be from each other. Conflict with greater distance between the sides is usually harder to resolve. One must move bigger mountains, so to speak, to fix these problems.

The folklore Suburb is additionally constructed upon the notion of privacy or seclusion. We can imagine a gradient [2] of privacy illustrated by Suburban geography: the town is a less intimate setting than the outside of the home, which is less intimate than the inside of the home.

I combine these two ideas in the following claim: the Suburb relates distance between two forces in conflict inversely on the geographical privacy gradient. Put simply, the more intimate or ‘internal’ the setting, the farther the two sides in conflict are from each other.

(I offer this claim in the hopes that it will clarify the nebulous meaning of the Suburb in the next section.)

Salient references to the Suburban town can be divided into one of two categories:

Allowing oneself to hope

Allowing oneself to recall

“august” clearly belongs in the first category. Hope is central to August’s character and how she approaches her relationship with James:

Wanting was enough

For me, it was enough

To live for the hope of it all

Canceled plans just in case you’d call

And say, “Meet me behind the mall”

If we interpret the bus as a school bus then “the 1” also belongs in this first town category:

I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn’t though

//

I hit the ground running each night

I hit the Sunday matinee

“invisible string” indicates that the yogurt shop is equally innocent as Centennial Park. The store represents the hope of Taylor’s soul mate, parallel to her hope:

Green was the color of the grass

Where I used to read at Centennial Park

I used to think I would meet somebody there

Teal was the color of your shirt

When you were sixteen at the yogurt shop

You used to work at to make a little money

“cardigan” and “this is me trying” alternatively highlight the persistence of memory, with a relationship leaving an “indelible mark” on the narrators. These songs belong in the second category:

I knew I’d curse you for the longest time

Chasin’ shadows in the grocery line

You’re a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town

James’ recollection qualifies “betty” for the second category as well. This song shows that emotional weight falls behind the act of remembering:

Betty, I won’t make assumptions

About why you switched your homeroom, but

I think it’s ‘cause of me

Betty, one time I was riding on my skateboard

When I passed your house

It’s like I couldn’t breathe

//

Betty, I know where it all went wrong

Your favorite song was playing

From the far side of the gym

I was nowhere to be found

I hate the crowds, you know that

Plus, I saw you dance with him

The surprising common denominator of these two categories is that conflict is purely internal in public spaces. Regardless of whether the speakers feel positively or negatively (i.e. per category number), their feelings are entirely a product of their own decisions, such as revisiting a memory or avoiding confrontation. This gives credence to the theory that the Suburb inversely relates conflict distance with privacy.

On the other extreme, the home is a site of conflict larger than oneself, and often more conflict in general. Conflict which occurs in the most private setting, inside the house, is conflict where the two sides are most distanced from each other. Conflict near the house, though not strictly inside, is closer, interpersonal.

“my tears ricochet” is just an ‘indoors’ song. The opening line depicts a private, funeral-like atmosphere:

We gather here, we line up, weepin’ in a sunlit room

There are multiple interpretations of this song floating around. The two prevailing ones are about the death of Taylor Swift the persona and the sale of her masters. In either interpretation, society and culture are the foundation for the implied conflict. First, the caricature of Taylor Swift exists as a reflection of pop culture; second, the sale of global superstar Taylor Swift’s masters is a dispute of such magnitude that it is not simply an interpersonal squabble.

For the alternative interpretation that “my tears ricochet” is about a dissolved relationship, “and when you can’t sleep at night // you hear my stolen lullabies” implicates Taylor Swift’s public catalogue (and thus Taylor Swift the persona) as the entity haunting someone else, as opposed to Taylor Swift the former member of the relationship.

“mad woman” is just an ‘outdoors’ song because of the line about the neighbor’s lawn:

What do you sing on your drive home?

Do you see my face in the neighbor’s lawn?

Does she smile?

Or does she mouth, “Fuck you forever”

It’s clear Taylor has a lot of vitriol for Scooter Braun. Though it’s probably a bit of both at the end of the day, I am comfortable calling their feud more of the ‘person vs. person’ variety than the ‘person vs. society’ variety.

Consequently, the privacy gradient claim holds for both songs.

“illicit affairs” is one of two songs with a very clear ‘transformation’ of geography:

What started in beautiful rooms

Ends with meetings in parking lots

In context, this represents the devolution of the relationship. External conflict, the illegitimacy of the relationship, defined the affair when it was in “beautiful rooms.” Relocating to the parking lot (i.e. now referencing the Suburban town) coincides with discord turning inward. Any external shame or scorn for both lovers as a consequence of the affair is replaced by the end of the song with anger the lovers feel towards each other and, more importantly, themselves.

“seven” is the best example of how many types of conflict are present in and around the home:

I hit my peak at seven

Feet in the swing over the creek

I was too scared to jump in

//

And I’ve been meaning to tell you

I think your house is haunted

Your dad is always mad and that must be why

And I think you should come live with me

And we can be pirates

Then you won’t have to cry

Or hide in the closet

//

Please picture me in the weeds

Before I learned civility

I used to scream ferociously

Any time I wanted

The first few lines exemplify ‘person vs. self’ conflict, a fear of heights. The third segment introduces a ‘person vs. society’ dilemma, shrinking pains as a result of socialization into gender norms. (I am assuming that the child is a girl.) The second verse indicates strife between a child and a father. It leaves room for three interpretations:

The conflict is interpersonal, so the father’s anger is wholly or partially directed at the child because the father is an angry person

The conflict is sociological, so the father’s anger is a whole or partial consequence of the gendered roles which the father and child perform

Both

Is curious that we need not regard sadness and the closet in “seven” as mutually inclusive. The narrator says the child’s options are crying (logical) or hiding in the closet. Both the father’s temper and the closet are facts of the child’s life, either innocuous or traumatic or somewhere in between.

But we might—and perhaps should—go further and argue that conflict in “seven” is necessarily sociological, and specifically about being civilized to perform heterosexual femininity. For, taken to its logical extreme, if only gender identity and not sexual identity incites anger, then men must be socialized to become abusive to women, who must be socialized to become submissive to that abuse. Screaming “ferociously” at any time would also denote freedom to be oneself despite men, not freedom to be oneself for one’s own gratification. Yet the child surely enjoys the second freedom at the beginning of the song. While the patriarchy is indeed an oppressive societal force, the interpretation of the social conflict in “seven” as only gendered yields contradiction. This interpretation is much more tenuous than acknowledging that the closet is, in fact, The Closet.

(Mere mention of a closet, the universal symbol for hiding one’s sexuality, immediately justifies a queer interpretation of “seven” notwithstanding other sociological and/or semantic technicalities. A sizable chunk of Taylor’s extensive discography also lends itself to queer interpretation by extension of connection with this song—for instance, by a shared theme of socialization as a primary evil. To me it seems silly at best and homophobic at worst to eschew the reading of “seven” presented here.)

It is undeniable that “seven” represents many types of conflict and places them inversely on the privacy gradient. The father embodies societal conflict larger than the young child and introduces that conflict inside the house. The child faces internal conflict (i.e. a fear of heights) and no conflict at all (i.e. freedom to act fearlessly) outside.

Reconciling “august,” “exile,” and “betty” with the privacy gradient actually requires a queer interpretation of the songs. To avoid the complete logical fallacy of a circular proof, I reiterate that the privacy gradient is simply a means of illustrating how the Suburb functions as an archetypal location. Queer interpretation is a sufficient but not necessary condition for an interesting argument about Suburban spatial symbolism. Reaching a slightly weaker conclusion about the Suburb without the privacy gradient would not impact the conclusions about the other three archetypal locations. Finally, queer (sub)text is a noteworthy topic on its own.

“betty” situates the front porch as the venue where Betty must make a decision about her relationship with James:

But if I just showed up at your party

Would you have me? Would you want me?

Would you tell me to go fuck myself

Or lead me to the garden?

In the garden, would you trust me

If I told you it was just a summer thing?

//

Yeah, I showed up at your party

Will you have me? Will you love me?

Will you kiss me on the porch

In front of all your stupid friends?

If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it?

Will it patch your broken wings?

Influencing Betty’s decision is her relationship with her “stupid” (read: homophobic) friends who don’t accept James (and/or the idea of James/Betty as a pair), her own internalized homophobia, and the trepidation with which she may regard James after the August escapade. The conflict at the front door is external/societal, interpersonal, and internal.

The garden differs from the front door as an area where James and Betty can privately discuss the August escapade. By moving to the garden, the supposed root of their conflict shifts from the oppressive force of homophobia to James’ behavior regarding the love triangle (“would you trust me if I told you it was just a summer thing?”). Much like in “illicit affairs,” motion along the privacy gradient underscores that micro-geography is inversely related to conflict distance.

Next, the implied settings of “august” are a bedroom and a private outdoor location such as a backyard:

Salt air, and the rust on your door

I never needed anything more

Whispers of "Are you sure?”

“Never have I ever before”

//

Your back beneath the sun

Wishin’ I could write my name on it

Will you call when you’re back at school?

I remember thinkin’ I had you

The backyard holds a mixture of ‘person vs. self’ and ‘person vs. person’ conflict. August’s doubts about James manifest as personal insecurities. However, James, by avoiding commitment, is equally responsible for planting that seed of doubt.

The song’s opening scene depicts a young adult losing their virginity. The bedroom can thus be conceptualized as a site of societal conflict because the queer love story expands this location to the geographical manifestation of escapism and denial. James runs off with August as a means to ignore externalized homophobia from a relationship with Betty, who has homophobic friends. Yet they eventually ditch August for Betty, either because of intense feelings for Betty or internalized homophobia—the relationship with August was too perfect, too easy.

“betty” and “august” are consistent with the gradient theory provided we interpret the love triangle narrative as queer. Identity engenders conflict in these songs. The characters then confront the conflict vis-à-vis location. ‘Indoors’ becomes the arena for confronting issues farther from the self, namely concerning homophobia. ‘Outdoors’ scopes cause and therefore possible resolution to individuals’ choices.

Last but not least, consider “exile,” the song with strange staging:

And it took you five whole minutes

To pack us up and leave me with it

Holdin’ all this love out here in the hall

//

You were my crown, now I’m in exile, seein’ you out

I think I’ve seen this film before

So I’m leaving out the side door

“I’m in exile, seein’ you out” and “I’m leaving out the side door” contradict each other. The speaker, “I,” seeing their lover out means that the speaker remains inside the house while their lover leaves. But the “I” also leaves through the side door. Does the speaker follow their lover out? If so, then whose house are they leaving? It is most likely a shared residence. They plan on coming back.

Taylor said in an interview [3] that the verses, sung by different people, represent the perspectives of the two lovers. The “me” in the first segment is the “you” in the second. So our “I” is left in the hall too. Both individuals  in the relationship are implied to leave and stay at different times.

An explanation for this inconsistency lies in the distinction between doors. A front door in folklore is symbolic of trust, that which makes or breaks a relationship (see: Betty’s front door and the door in “hoax”). It also forces sociological conflict to be resolved at the interpersonal level, lest serious problems hang out in the open. Fixing the world at large is usually impossible, and so front doors only create more issues. (The mountains, as they say, are too big to move.) The main entrance is thus a site for volatility and high stakes.

“exile” suggests that a shared side door is for persistent, dull, aching pain. This door symbolizes shame which is inherent to a relationship. It forces the partners to come and go quietly, to hide the existence of their love. Inferred from a queer reading of “exile” is that it is homophobia that erases the relationship. Conflict with society as evinced in individuals is once again consistent with the staging at the home.

Note that few (though multiple) explanations could resolve the paradox between intense shame in a relationship and the setting of a permanent shared home. Racism, for example, may be a reason individuals hide the existence of a loving relationship. Nevertheless, the overall effect of Taylor’s writing is that it is believable autobiography. It is unlikely that she’s speaking about racism here, least of all because there are two other male characters in the song. So a slightly more uncouth name for “exile” would be “the last great american mutual bearding anthem.”

To summarize, the Suburb is an archetypal setting constructed upon the notion of privacy. Taylor makes the folklore Suburb the primary home (no pun intended) of conflict of all kinds. Through an intimate, inverse relationship between drama and constitutive geography, Taylor argues that unrest and incongruity are central to what the Suburb represents.

The Outside World

The final archetypal setting is the complement to the first three—a physical and symbolic alternative.

The Guadalcanal beaches in “epiphany” (which are also alluded to in “peace”) contrast the homeland in “exile” through a metaphor about war. The Lake District in England is opposite America, the setting of most of folklore. The Moon, Saturn, and India are far away from Pennsylvania, the setting of “seven.” India quantifies the lengths to which the speaker of the song would go to protect the child character, while astronomy abstracts the magnitude of the speaker’s love.

This archetypal setting is symbolic of disengagement and breaking free from limitations. Moving to India in “seven” is how the speaker and child could escape problems at the child’s home. Analogizing war with the pandemic in “epiphany” removes geographical and chronological constraints from trauma.

The Lake District is where Taylor, a poet, goes to die. The line “I don’t belong and, my beloved, neither do you” could also suggest that this location is where Taylor and her muse break free from being outcasts (i.e. they find belonging). Regardless, the Lake District is where she disengages from the ultimate limitation of life itself.

——

How is an archetypal feature used as a metaphor? By proxy, what does that say about the setting defined by said feature?

Analysis of each archetypal feature yielded the following:

The Coastal Town is representative of permanent loss/endings

The City is representative of transitional loss/endings

The Suburb is the site of character-defining conflict

The Outside World is freedom from the constraints of the other settings

What theme unites these settings?

Though the majority of songs in folklore are anachronistic, the album has a temporal spirit. Geography seems to humanize and animate folklore: the meanings of the settings mirror the stages of life.

(The theoretical foundation for this claim is a topology of being; that the nature of being [4] is an event of place.)

The City, characterized by transition, is the coming-of-age and the Coastal Town, characterized by permanent endings, is death.

The Outside World, an alternative to life itself, is hence a rebirth. (After all, Romantic poets experienced a spiritual and occupational rebirth upon retiring to the Lakes to die. We remember them by their retreat.)

Outwardly, the Suburb is ambiguous. It could be representative of adolescence or adulthood—before or after the City. Analysis shows that this setting is nothing if not complex. Adult Taylor writes about the Suburb as someone whose opinion of this setting has unquestionably soured since adolescence. Yet she also approaches the Suburb with the singular goal of creating nuance, specifically by exposing unrest and incongruity which the setting usually obfuscates. This setting, ironically one that is (culturally) ruled by haughty adolescents, is where she explores the myriad subtleties and uncertainties coloring adulthood. The Suburb thus cannot be for adolescence because James is 17 and doesn’t know anything. Taylor intentionally situates the Suburb between the City and Coastal Town as the geographic stand-in for a complicated adulthood.

Despite genre shifts, Taylor has always excelled at establishing a clear setting for her songs. She is arguably even required to establish setting more clearly for folkloric storytelling than for her brand of confessional pop. If we can’t fully distinguish between reality and fiction, we must be able to supplement our understanding of a story with strong characterization, which is ultimately a byproduct of setting. Geography is a prima facie necessity for creating folklore.

This further suggests that the ‘life story’ told through geography is the thing closest to a metanarrative of folklore.

I use this term to refer to an album’s overarching narrative structure which Taylor creates (maybe subconsciously) in service of artistic self-expression. Interrogating ‘metanarrative’ should not be confused with the protean, impossible, and distracting task of deciphering Taylor Swift’s life. True metanarrative is always worth exploring. Also, though some conclusions about metanarrative may seem more plausible than others, at the end of the day all relevant arguments are untenable. Only Taylor knows exactly which metanarrative(s) her albums follow, if any. It is simply worth appreciating that folklore allows an interesting discussion about metanarrative in the first place; that it is both possible to find patterns sewn into the fabric of the work and to resonate with that which one believes those patterns illustrate. I digress.

folklore is highly geographic but orthogonal to all of our geographic expectations of mood or tone. Through metaphor, Taylor upends our assumptions about the archetypal settings.

The Outside World is usually a setting which represents a brief and peaceful respite for travelers. Here, it is the setting for complete and permanent disengagement. Hiding and running away was a panacea in reputation/Lover, but in folklore, finding peace in running and hiding becomes impossible.

The City is usually regarded as a modern Fountain of Youth and, in Taylor’s work, a home. However, the folklore City’s shelter is temporary and its energy brittle, like the relationship between the characters that inhabit it. The City has lost its glow.

One would expect the Coastal Town to be peaceful and serene given its small size and proximity to water. Taylor makes it the primary site of death, insanity, permanent loss. The place where one cannot go with grace is hardly peaceful.

The Suburb is not the romanticized-by-necessity dead end that it is in a Bildungsroman like Fearless. Rather, it is the site of great conflict as a consequence of individual identity. The American suburb is monolithic by design; Taylor points the finger of blame back at this design for erasing hurt and trauma. By writing against the gradient of privacy, she obviates all simplicity and serenity for which this location is known. Bedrooms no longer illustrate the dancing-in-pjs-before-school and floodplain-of-tears binary. Front porches become more sinister than the place to meet a future partner and rock a baby. Characters’ choices—often between two undesirable options in situations complicated by misalignment of the self and the world at large—become their biggest mistakes. It is with near masochistic fascination that Taylor dissects how the picturesque Suburban façade disguises misery.

If we have come to expect anything from Taylor, it is that she will make lustrous even the most mundane feelings and places. (And she is very good at her job.) folklore is a departure from this practice. She replaces erstwhile veneration of geography itself with nostalgia, bitterness, sadness, or disdain for any given setting. folklore is orthogonal to our primary expectation of Taylor Swift.

Yet another fascinating aspect of folklore is the air of death. It’s understandable. Taylor has ‘killed’ relationships, her own image, and surely parts of her inner self an unknowable number of times. Others have tarnished her reputation, stolen her songs, and deserted her in personal and professional life. She perishes frequently, both by her own hand and by the hands of others. The losses compound.

I’ve lost track of the number of posts I’ve seen saying that folklore is Taylor mourning friendships, love, a past self, youth…x, y, z. It has literally never been easier to project onto a Taylor Swift album, folks! At the same time, it is very difficult to to pinpoint what, exactly, Taylor is mourning. To me, listing things is a far too limited understanding of folklore. The lists simply do not do the album justice.

Death’s omnipresence has intrigued many, and I assert for good geographic reason. Reinforcing the album’s macabre undertone is nonlinear spatial symbolism: each setting bares a grief-soaked stage of a single life. From the City to the Suburb, Coastal Town, and Outside World, we perceive one’s sadness and depression, anger and helplessness, frustration and scorn, and acceptance, respectively. folklore holds a raw, primal grief at its core.

The geographic metanarrative justifies Taylor’s unabridged grieving process as that over the death of her own Romanticism. For the album’s torment is not as simple as in aging or metamorphosis of identity, not as glorified or irreverent as in a typical Swiftian murder-suicide, not as overt as in a loss with something or someone to blame. folklore is Taylor’s reckoning with what can only be described as artistic mortality.

——

To summarize up until this point: geography in folklore is not literal but metaphorical. The artistic treatment of folklore settings evinces a ‘geographic metanarrative,’ a close connection between settings and the stages of a life spent grieving. I propose that this life tracks Taylor’s relationship to her Romanticism. folklore follows the stages of Taylor’s artistic grief, so we will see that the conclusion of the album brings the death of Taylor’s Romanticism.

It is important to distinguish between the death of Romanticism in general and the death of Taylor’s Romanticism. folklore presents an argument for the latter.

A central conceit of Romanticism is its philosophy of style:

The most characteristic romantic commitment is to the idea that the character of art and beauty and of our engagement with them should shape all aspects of human life.…if the romantic ideal is to materialize, aesthetics should permeate and shape human life. [5]

Romanticism is realized through imagination:

The imagination was elevated to a position as the supreme faculty of the mind.…The Romantics tended to define and to present the imagination as our ultimate “shaping” or creative power, the approximate human equivalent of the creative powers of nature or even deity. It is dynamic, an active, rather than passive power, with many functions. Imagination is the primary faculty for creating all art. On a broader scale, it is also the faculty that helps humans to constitute reality…we not only perceive the world around us, but also in part create it. Uniting both reason and feeling…imagination is extolled as the ultimate synthesizing faculty, enabling humans to reconcile differences and opposites in the world of appearance. [6]

Imagination then engenders an artist-hero lifestyle [7]. This is similar—if not identical—to what we perceive of Taylor Swift’s life:

By locating the ultimate source of poetry in the individual artist, the tradition, stretching back to the ancients, of valuing art primarily for its ability to imitate human life (that is, for its mimetic qualities) was reversed. In Romantic theory, art was valuable not so much as a mirror of the external world, but as a source of illumination of the world within.…The “poetic speaker” became less a persona and more the direct person of the poet.…The interior journey and the development of the self recurred everywhere as subject material for the Romantic artist. The artist-as-hero is a specifically Romantic type.

Taylor’s Romanticism is thus her imagination deified as her artist-hero.

Moreover, the discrepancy between perceptions of grief in folklore is a consequence of the death of her Romanticism.

We (i.e. outsiders) naturally perceive the death of the Romantic as the death of Romantic aesthetics. Hence the lists upon lists of things that Taylor mourns instead of celebrates.

Taylor seems to grieve her Romantic artist-hero. Imaginative capacity predicates an artist-hero self-image, so conversely the death of the Romantic strips imagination of its power. The projected “fantasy, history, and memory” [8] of folklore indeed unnerves rather than comforts. The best example of this is from a corollary of the geographic metanarrative. Grief traces geography which traces life, and life leaks from densely populated areas to sparsely populated areas (it begins in the City and ends in the Outside World). Metaphorical setting, a product of imagination, aids the Romantic’s unbecoming. So, imagination is not a “synthesizing faculty” for reconciling difference; it is instead a faculty that divides.

Discriminating between the death of Romanticism in general and the death of Taylor’s Romanticism contextualizes folklore’s highly individualized grief. It is hard to argue that Taylor Swift will ever be unimaginative. But if we assume that she subscribes to a Romantic philosophy, then it follows that confronting the limits of the imagination is, to her, akin to a reckoning with mortality, a limit of the self.

——

folklore follows the stages of Taylor’s artistic grief. The album ends with Taylor accepting of the death of her Romanticism and being reborn into a new life. The final trio of songs, set ‘of’ the Suburb, Coastal Town, and Outside World in turn, frame the album’s solitary denouement.

In truth, “peace” is hardly grounded in Suburban geography. The nuance in it certainly makes it a thematic contemporary of other songs belonging to the Suburb, however. And consider: the events of “peace” are after the coming-of-age, the City; defining geographic features of the Coastal Town and Outside World are referenced in the future tense; an interior wall, the closest thing to Suburban home geography, is referenced in the present tense:

Our coming-of-age has come and gone

//

But I’m a fire and I’ll keep your brittle heart warm

If your cascade ocean wave blues come

//

You paint dreamscapes on the wall

//

And you know that I’d swing with you for the fences

Sit with you in the trenches

Per tense and the geographic metanarrative, “peace” is Suburban and is the first story of this trio. “hoax” and “the lakes” trivially follow (in that order) by their own geography.

The trio is clearly a story about Taylor and her muse. Understanding perspective in these songs will help us reconcile the lovers’ story and the geographic metanarrative.

We must compare lines in “peace” and “hoax” to determine who is speaking in those songs and when. Oft-repeated imagery makes it challenging to find a distinguishing detail local only to the trio. I draw attention to the affectionate nickname “darling”:

And it’s just around the corner, darlin’

'Cause it lives in me

Darling, this was just as hard

As when they pulled me apart

These two mentions are the only such ones in folklore. Whoever sings the first verse of “peace” must sing the bridge of “hoax” too.

“hoax” adds that the chorus singer’s melancholy is because of their faithless lover:

Don't want no other shade of blue but you

No other sadness in the world would do

Augmenting Lover is an undercurrent of sadness to which Taylor alludes with the color blue. By a basic understanding of that album, Taylor sings the “hoax” chorus.

The fire and color metaphors in tandem make the “hoax” verse(s) and bridge from the perspective of the lover who is burned and dimmed by the energy of their partner, the “peace” chorus singer:

I am ash from your fire

//

But what you did was just as dark

But I’m a fire and I’ll keep your brittle heart warm

Finally, a motif of an unraveling aligns the “hoax” verse(s) and bridge singer:

You knew it still hurts underneath my scars

From when they pulled me apart

//

My kingdom come undone

The “hoax” verse(s), chorus, and bridge are all sung by the same person.

In sum: Taylor sings the first verse of “peace” and her lover sings the chorus of “peace.” (See this post for more on “peace.”) Taylor alone sings “hoax.” “the lakes” is undoubtedly from Taylor’s perspective too.

Now let’s examine “peace” more closely:

Our coming-of-age has come and gone

Suddenly this summer, it’s clear

I never had the courage of my convictions

As long as danger is near

And it’s just around the corner, darlin’

‘Cause it lives in me

No, I could never give you peace

But I’m a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm

If your cascade, ocean wave blues come

All these people think love’s for show

But I would die for you in secret

The devil’s in the details, but you got a friend in me

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Taylor’s lover has the temerity to die for her in secret. We can infer from the first verse that Taylor’s coming-of-age brings not the courage her lover possesses but clarity about an unsustainable habit. She realizes that she cherishes youthful fantasies of life (such as “this summer,” à la “august”) for mettle. This apparently knocks her out of her reverie.

The recognition that being an artist-hero hurts her muse frames the death of Taylor’s Romanticism. It is impossible for Taylor to both manage an unpleasant reality and construct a more peaceful one using her Romantic imagination. The rift between her true lived experience (“interior journey”) and the experience of her art (“development of the self”) is what fuels alienation from Romance. The artist is unstitched from the hero.

“hoax” continues along this line of reasoning. In this song, she admits that she has been hurt by herself:

My twisted knife

My sleepless night

My winless fight

This has frozen my ground

As well as by her lover:

My best laid plan

Your sleight of hand

My barren land

I am ash from your fire

And by others:

You knew it still hurts underneath my scars

From when they pulled me apart

The bridge marks is the turning point where she lets go of of her youth and adulthood, both of which are tied to her Romanticism through geography:

You know I left a part of me back in New York

You knew the hero died so what’s the movie for?

You knew it still hurts underneath my scars

From when they pulled me apart

You knew the password so I let you in the door

You knew you won so what’s the point of keeping score?

You knew it still hurts underneath my scars

From when they pulled me apart

Of utmost importance is the very first line. The muse to whom Taylor addresses “hoax” is said to have been present at Taylor’s side through all of her struggles (“you knew”). The first line reveals that the lover did not know that Taylor left a part of herself back in New York (“you know [now]”). Taylor is only sharing her newfound realization as she stands on the precipice of the Coastal Town.

Nearly imperceptible though this syntactic difference is, it is an unmistakable reprise of the effect of the verses and chorus of “cardigan.” (Coincidentally, references to New York connect the songs.) “Knew” and “know” in both songs underscore a difference between what a character remembers (or had previously experienced) and what they understand in the current moment (or have just come to realize). Betty realizes at the very moment that she narrates “cardigan” that it was a mistake to excuse James’ behavior as total ignorance and youthful selfishness. Taylor realizes in “hoax” that she can no longer cling to youth, the romanticization of her youth, or romanticization of the romanticization of her youth. The youth in her is gone forever because she is no longer attached to the City. The adult in her has also matured for she is past the Suburb as well. The Coastal Town thus very appropriately stages the death of her Romantic.

Anyone who listens to Taylor’s music has been trained to connect geography to the vitality of Romantic artist-hero Taylor. In short, aestheticized geography renders Taylor’s Romantic autobiography. By letting go of the parts of her connected to geography, Taylor abandons the Romantic aesthetics both she and listeners associate with location. Divorcing from aesthetics also pre-empts romanticization of location in the future. The bridge of “hoax” is thus most easily summarized as the moment when any fondness for and predisposition towards Romance crumbles completely.

Lastly, we must pay special attention to micro-geography in the “hoax” chorus. We recall from “the last great american dynasty” and “this is me trying” the insanity that consumes the characters who contemplate the cliffs. The Coastal Town is not a beautiful place to die; one is graceless when moribund:

They say she was seen on occasion

Pacing the rocks, staring out at the midnight sea

I’ve been having a hard time adjusting

//

Pulled the car off the road to the lookout

Could’ve followed my fears all the way down

From “peace” we know that Taylor’s lover is willing to die for her, in particular if Taylor’s sadness becomes too great (i.e. if she goes to the sea).

But I’m a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm

If your cascade, ocean wave blues come

All these people think love’s for show

But I would die for you in secret

The “hoax” chorus is when Taylor’s sadness balloons. Taylor the Romantic is ready to die:

Stood on the cliffside screaming, "Give me a reason"

Your faithless love’s the only hoax I believe in

Don't want no other shade of blue but you

No other sadness in the world would do

Remember Rebekah, pacing the rocks, staring out at the midnight sea. Taylor is in this same position, on the cliffs, facing the water. Why is she screaming? Taylor is yelling down at her lover, who has already died (in secret, of course) and is in the water below waiting to catch her. (“I’m always waiting for you to be waiting below,” anyone?) Taylor’s singular faith is in her lover, and Taylor wants them to promise to catch her when she falls. In the end, though, the inherent danger nullifies what the lover could do to convince Taylor that the two would reunite safely below.

Taylor examines the water and realizes that her lover’s hue is combined with the blue of the sea. The sea cannot promise to catch her. Already mentally reeling, the admixture of sadnesses—in the setting which represents the culmination of life—makes Taylor recalcitrant. The Coastal Town has too much metaphorical baggage. It is not the place Taylor leaps from the cliffs. The first line of the “hoax” chorus uses “stood,” which implies that Taylor is reflecting on this dilemma after the fact.

The outro reinforces that the Coastal Town is where Taylor the Romantic comes to term with death but does not actually die:

My only one

My kingdom come undone

My broken drum

You have beaten my heart

Don’t want no other shade of blue but you

No other sadness in the world would do

Romantic imagination cannot protect Taylor from all the hurt she has suffered in reality. A calm settles over her as the chords modulate to the relative major key. She reflects on her journey: “my only one” corresponds to the first verse which introduces her solemn situation; “my kingdom come undone” ties to the self-inflicted hurt that froze her ground; “my broken drum // you have beaten my heart” supplements the second verse about suffering from her lover’s duplicity. The last lines are again her rationale for not jumping from the rocks. Finally, after the album-long grieving period, Taylor the Romantic has made peace with her inevitable death.

Romanticism is Taylor’s giant which goes with her wherever she goes. Running, hiding, traveling, and uprooting are indeed the fool’s paradise in her previous albums. Impermanence of setting—roaming the world for self-culture, amusement, intoxication of beauty, and loss of sadness [9]—engenders an impermanence of self, which fuels the instinct to cling tightly to what does remain constant. Naturally, then, Romanticism is Taylor’s only enduring companion. It becomes the lens through which she understands the world, yet the rose-colored one which by virtue inspires problems on top of problems. Forevermore does her Romantic inspire a cycle of catharsis that plays out in real life. Thy beautiful kingdom come, then tragically come undone.

Taylor chooses to go to the Lakes to escape from the constraints of this cycle:

Take me to the Lakes where all the poets went to die

I don’t belong and, my beloved, neither do you

Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry

I’m setting off, but not without my muse

Of the death story in the “peace”/“hoax”/“the lakes” trio, it is impossible to ignore the mutualism of Taylor and her muse. Neither of them belong of this life—and ‘of’ American geography—anymore. Taylor’s last wish is to go to the Outside World and jump (“[set] off”) from the Windermere peaks with her muse, who is ever willing to both lead Taylor to the dark and follow her into it.

Taylor bids a final goodbye—appropriately, in the tongue of Romance—to the philosophy which has anchored her all this time:

I want auroras and sad prose

I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet

'Cause I haven’t moved in years

And I want you right here

Romanticism, her art and life in tandem, brought Taylor what she values: union with her muse in the privacy of nature and her imagination. The final ode holds respect.

Finally, her death. The journey of grief concludes with Taylor both accepting death and, fascinatingly, being reborn into a new life:

A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground

With no one around to tweet it

While I bathe in cliffside pools

With my calamitous love and insurmountable grief

In keeping with metaphorical geography, old life dwindling in water is exactly concurrent with new life flourishing on land.

Observe that the rebirth concerns ice frozen ground, an element of “hoax,” which is set in the Coastal Town. The rebirth must happen back in America even though the death happens at the Lakes.

Despite the imagery, this is not a Romantic rebirth. Begetting a new life is the juxtaposition of two things Taylor once romanticized toward opposite extremes—a red rose for beauty and an ice frozen ground for tragedy—with her simple refusal that either be distorted as externalities of her experience.

This final stanza is wide open for interpretation with regards to the story of the two lovers. It allows a priori all permutations of Taylor and/or her muse experiencing rebirth as the red rose and/or the frozen ground:

Taylor and her lover experience a rebirth together

Taylor is the red rose and her lover is the ice frozen ground

Taylor is the ice frozen ground and her lover is the red rose

Taylor and her lover are indivisible: they are both the rose and the frozen ground

Taylor alone experiences a rebirth

Taylor is the rose

Taylor is the ice frozen ground

Taylor is the rose + ice frozen ground

The lover alone experiences a rebirth

The lover is the rose

The lover is the ice frozen ground

The lover is the rose + frozen ground

(2) and (3) make death at the end of “the lakes” purely sacrificial. This is inconsistent with the disproportionate emphasis placed on the lovers’ mutualism. I am thus inclined to dismiss (2) and (3) as consequences of combinatorics.

There are also two interpretations of the final lines of the bridge:

Taylor the Romantic is the implied ‘I’ overcome with grief; her muse is her calamitous love with whom she bathes

Taylor the Romantic possesses both calamitous love and insurmountable grief; her lover, as per usual, dies with her in secret

It is unclear which is the truth. Still, (1) is relatively straightforward: there are two entities said to bathe in the Lakes and two entities said to be involved in reincarnation.

There need not be ‘parity’ between old life and new (reincarnated) life with respect to the lovers’ relationship status. If Taylor’s muse dies, does her relationship dissolve? Or must her muse, who dies at Taylor’s side, be reborn at her side too? If Taylor declares her devotion to her lover before her death, does that ensure that they are together in perpetuity? Or is that sentiment purely a relic of her past life, in which case her love disappears anew? Perhaps the invisible string tying the lovers together bonds them in eternal life. Perhaps the string snaps. Which is the blessing and which is the curse?

Whatever you make of ‘parity’ in reincarnation, it is important to remember that Taylor insists the relationship between her and her muse is at least a spiritual or divine one—if not also a worldly one—for it exists in conjunction with her own metaphysic.

How does reincarnation betray Romanticism?

A. Taylor is the red rose and the lover is the ice frozen ground.

Taylor as the rose does not trivially align with a bygone Romanticism, for the rose epitomizes Romance. Key, therefore, is the line about tweeting. Taylor abhors the practice of cataloguing and oversharing in service of knowing something completely—effectively ‘modern’ Romanticism.

Digital overexposure is an occupational hazard [10], but Taylor refuses to let ‘modern’ Romanticism to become invasive this time around. New life shall not be defiled by social media. It shall remain pure by individual will. Though Taylor’s rebirth into a new life happens on land in America, that it does not become a hyperbole of local Twitter is the proverbial nail in the coffin of Romanticism, distortion in service of aesthetic.

Rose imagery also draws a direct parallel to “The Lucky One,” Taylor’s self-proclaimed meditation [11] on her worst fears of stardom. The “Rose Garden” in this song contextualizes the “lucky” one’s disappearance from the spotlight:

It was a few years later

I showed up here

And they still tell the legend of how you disappeared

How you took the money and your dignity, and got the hell out

They say you bought a bunch of land somewhere

Chose the Rose Garden over Madison Square

And it took some time, but I understand it now

Emphasis on individual choice in the aforementioned star’s return to normalcy bears a striking resemblance to the individualistic philosophy of “the lakes,” as exemplified by Taylor and her muse choosing to jump from the Windermere peaks and Taylor keeping her rose off social media. Mention of a “legend” that describes disappearance and simultaneous return elsewhere is another connection to the “the lakes.”

Taylor as the rose could alternatively represent a chromatic devolution of true love (“I once believed love was burnin’ red // but it’s golden”). That is, becoming a rose suggests she may have changed her mind back to believing that love is burning red. This more generally represents returning to the beginning of a journey that began in the Red era. Perhaps Taylor sees Red as the beginning of her calamitous Romanticism. She realizes by folklore the fears which she surveyed in “The Lucky One,” so choosing a new life presents an opportunity to protect post-Speak Now Taylor from self-inflicted wounds which fester and prove fatal to her Romantic. (In essence…time travel.)

Taylor’s lover, ice frozen ground, is reborn frigid not blazing, the opposite of their raging fire. Taming the lover’s wild essence renders it impossible for them to be a Romantic muse in a new life. If the two lovers do indeed share an eternal love, then death reveals a conscious choice not to glorify it.

Additionally, Taylor’s artist-hero imagination has no power in her new life. Taylor and her lover have effectively switched spots. All we previously knew of the lover’s secrets and secret death was from what Taylor wrote, so Taylor (for lack of a better phrase) concealed her lover. The lover, ice frozen ground, is now the one concealing Taylor, the rose. As a smothering but not razing force, Taylor’s lover thus is reincarnated into the role of a public protector. Reincarnation reveals that the death of Romanticism is abetted through the death of secrecy, which always allows distortion of truth.

Another possibility: the secrecy surrounding the lover is that they were the ice frozen ground. If Taylor confirms that the lover was something ‘tragic’ before, then after the death of Romanticism they counterintuitively may become beautiful. Or, the lover continues to be tragic, and paramount again is Taylor’s choice not to sensationalize her muse.

B. Taylor is the ice frozen ground and the lover is the red rose.

Many of the themes above apply to this interpretation too.

Taylor reborn as ice frozen ground does not change her essence from “hoax.” By not ‘shaking off’ a sadness with her rebirth, she subverts the usual expectation—a product of the many years devoted to fixing any and all criticism [12]—of artist-hero Taylor Swift.

The lover reborn as the red rose means their being surfaces where they once were hidden and/or that they are not the golden love they had been in reputation, Lover, and “invisible string.” New life brings the bright, burning “red” emotions. Either what was once very bad is now very good and vice versa, or these emotions are simply not very anything because Taylor doesn’t want to sensationalize them as a pastiche of Red. If Taylor’s love is eternal, then she will be more subdued when sharing it; if it is not eternal, then she will simply move on.

This interpretation implies that Taylor’s Rose Garden is eternal love without the necessity of elevating her partner to Romantic muse status. No one being around to tweet the rose bursting through the ice means that Taylor alone gets to appreciate her lover for their pure essence before modern society does—lest the lover be perceived at all.

C. Taylor and her lover are indivisible: they are both the rose and the frozen ground

Taylor’s “twisted knife”/“sleepless night”/“winless fight” froze her ground but her lover’s “sleight of hand” made the land barren, unable to sustain life. The two lovers are emotionally at odds, but Romanticism acts as the “synthesizing faculty” which unites them in their old life.

The metaphor of the rose and frozen ground does not work without each part. It is possible that the lovers remain equally united in their new life; the lovers’ spiritual connection yields unity after reincarnation. Abiogenesis is therefore the phenomenon which betrays Romanticism. The lovers exist alongside each other naturally, not because they are opposites which Romanticism has forced together.

This is probably the most lighthearted interpretation of the last stanza in “the lakes.” Extreme hardship helps the lovers grow, and they remain intertwined through eternity.

——

The geographic elegy of folklore is that for Taylor’s giant, her Romantic, something both treasured and despised right until its end. (How appropriately meta.)

This raises the question: what replaces it?

Nothing.

folklore can—and perhaps should—be understood as a Transcendental work rather than a Romantic one. From this angle, Romanticism is that which prevented Taylor from connecting with something deeper within herself, something more eternal.

“Transcendental” does not mean “transcendent” or beyond human experience altogether, but something through which experience is made possible. [13]

Transcendentalism and Romanticism were two literary and philosophical movements that occurred during roughly the same time period [14].  Romanticism dominated England, Germany, and France in the late 18th and early 19th centuries slightly before Transcendentalism swept through America in the mid-1800s.

The two movements heavily influenced [15] each other. Transcendentalists and Romantics shared an appreciation for nature, doubt of (Calvinist) religious dogma, and an ambivalence or dislike of society and its institutions as corrupting forces. We see Taylor align herself with these ideas by the end of the album. “the lakes” holds a reverence of the natural world, disregard of predestination, and contempt for Twitter.

But Transcendentalism sharply diverged from Romanticism along the axis of faith. Transcendentalism thrived as a religious movement that emphasized individualism as a means for self-growth and, in particular, achieving a personal, highly spiritualized [16] understanding of God:

For many of the transcendentalists the term “transcendentalism” represented nothing so technical as an inquiry into the presuppositions of human experience, but a new confidence in and appreciation of the mind’s powers, and a modern, non-doctrinal spirituality. The transcendentalist, Emerson states, believes in miracles, conceived as “the perpetual openness of the human mind to new influx of light and power…”

Romantics, for instance, viewed nature as a source of imagination, inspiration, and enlightenment, whereas Transcendentalists saw nature as a vessel for exploring spirituality. Transcendentalists believed in an innate goodness of people for possession of a divine inner light [17]. Occupied with the perverse and disparate, Romantics believed people were capable both of great good and terrible evil.

It’s tempting to scope Taylor’s shift from Romanticism to Transcendentalism to this album alone. It’s true that folklore is filled with individualism, a hallmark of Transcendentalist philosophy. However, I argue that spirituality reveals a journey towards Transcendentalism that began well before folklore.

Consider the evolution of faith from reputation to Lover. Taylor places more emphasis on personal spirituality as she becomes increasingly disillusioned with organized religion/religious dogma. In “Don’t Blame Me,” Taylor defies religious convictions in favor of chasing the high of her forbidden love. Then her quiet and private life with her lover in “Cornelia Street” advances whatever traditional religious beliefs she possessed towards a self-defined spirituality (“sacred new beginnings that became my religion”). Individual spiritual enlightenment and religious conviction become mutually exclusive by the end of Lover, for the lovers would still worship their love even if it is a “false god.”

The final scene proves most important for establishing the album’s philosophy. In the end of “the lakes.” Taylor chooses death and is reincarnated into new life, kept pure also by individual will. (It should be noted that Transcendentalism was heavily influenced [18] by Indian religions, of which reincarnation is a central tenet.) Choosing reincarnation—to the extent that one even can—reflects a greater understanding of oneself. Choice, the ultimate power granted in the self, engenders spirituality. It is the means by which one follows a divine, guiding spark (i.e. “inner light”) in search of connection with others and the natural world. The album’s ending marries individualism with spirituality, which makes Taylor a true champion of Transcendentalism.

——

Transcendentalism is considered one of the most dominant American intellectual movements. Exploring the significance of Transcendentalist Taylor Swift is a rather unimaginative end to this essay. If we try hard enough, we will always be able to connect its philosophy to any art that exists in conversation with American culture.

Perhaps a more gripping conclusion comes from the assertion that philosophy doesn’t matter…

…at least, not in the way this essay regards philosophy as the ultimate Point.

So identifiable is the geographic motif in Taylor’s work that it is nearly impossible to ignore. This is especially true for folklore, an album that would literally not be folkloric if not for the blending of reality and fiction, real location and setting elevated as metaphor. So moving, moreover, is the grief at folklore’s core that it is natural to wonder what else it could represent. Hence, this essay’s charade of poking around both to see if they convey a deeper meaning.

A strong philosophical foundation establishes the ethos of art, that with which we resonate. However, we will never know to what philosophy Taylor subscribes. The interaction between her beliefs, creative spirit, and innate sense of self will always be a mystery. Any and all conclusions about the philosophical foundations of her art thus (1) are highly subjective and (2) reveal more about the ones making them than about Taylor herself.

Ironically, it is paramount to appreciate Taylor’s (Romantic) style above all else. The ways she uses basic building blocks of literature—theme, imagery, mood, setting, to name a few—piques curiosity. After all, without those building blocks, one would not be able to cultivate (should they so desire) an interest in the metaphorical, philosophical, or otherwise profound.

——

Disclaimer: this essay references (explicitly and implicitly, by way of citing expanded theoretical work) the ideas of Emerson and Heidegger, two preeminent thinkers whose ideas have had especially deep and lasting impacts on society. They are also two individuals noted to have had poor and even abhorrent political/personal views. I do not condone their views by referencing any ideas connected to these individuals (done mostly in service of rigor). I furthermore leave the task of generating nuance to those who dedicate their lives to critical examination of these individuals’ personal philosophies and the impact of their work on society.

#folklore analysis #gaylor swift #music analysis #my post

[chestnuttoast]

Bonnie's Fayre

2.8k words

horror, gore, paranormal

[user▉▉▉1]

Has anyone ever heard of Bonnie’s Fayre? A buddy and i were thinking of going to check it out but its kind of a long way from where we live so wanted to know if it was worth it before making the trip…

•••

[user▉▉▉2]

The name rings a bell… but im not sure…

[user​​▉▉▉3]

Ive heard of it. But i wouldnt recommend it to you

[user▉▉▉4]

Isnt that the abandoned amusement park they started building in some quiet town hardly anyone had ever heard of?

[user▉▉▉1]

Oh… is it not good? @ user▉▉▉3

[user▉▉▉3]

If by good you mean creepy, then yes its good. But i wouldnt go

[user▉▉▉1]

@ user▉▉▉3 it sounds like you’ve been

[user▉▉▉3]

… its been a few years. But yes, i did go

[user▉▉▉1]

Then why would you tell me not to go?

[user▉▉▉2]

@ user▉▉▉3 if youre just scared of what OP will say when they come back you can just not read their post

[user▉▉▉3]

@ user▉▉▉2 its not that. If i let OP just go because its creepy, they might not be able to make that post

[user▉▉▉2]

Youre not scaring anyone… what are you talking about?

[user▉▉▉1]

@ user▉▉▉3 please ignore that person. make yourself clear

[user▉▉▉3]

Ive never really written this story out before, so please bear with me.

[user▉▉▉1]

Please take your time. Im really curious to hear it

[user▉▉▉3]

Okay i'll try my best. It might be a little long, so i may have to separate this into a couple of replies. Please, when you read, take my words seriously. I didnt heed the warnings given to me before i went and that is one of my biggest regrets. I would hate for you to do the same

[user▉▉▉1]

Thanks @ user▉▉▉3. I will wait while you write. Im really curious now

[user▉▉▉3]

It was a few years ago. I was hanging out with a few friends when we came across a story about Bonnie’s Fayre. None of us had ever heard of it before, but we decided to look into it further.

We found articles that had been written about it and discovered that they had planned to build an amusement park in this town that was pretty quiet and out of the way in order to create more income for the town. After more reading, however, it became clear that construction of the park was forcibly halted part way through due to the sheer number of accidents and even fatalities that occurred while it was taking place.

That might not sound odd to you, but fatalities while construction is taking place are actually quite rare. Health and safety these days is so strict that anything like that is abnormal and becomes a shocking story.

Anyway, one way or another as we dug deeper into the story of Bonnie’s Fayre we came across a number of forum posts talking about how creepy the place was and how it would make a good place to visit. Some talked about the cool photographic potential of it, while others were straight up talking about a load of paranormal stuff that sounded really fake.

Honestly, i was a skeptic. I had never really believed in the paranormal and always thought there was a way to explain things people usually dubbed ‘supernatural’.

That was when, as we were reading some of these posts, one of my buddies - let’s just call him A - suggested we go check it out. Thinking that all this creepy stuff was pretty stupid i agreed with little hesitation.

While A and i were up for the trip and didnt really pay much attention to all the creepy stuff people online were saying about it, our other friend - who i’ll call B - was more bothered by that stuff.

“You guys im not so sure about this…” he said nervously as we began looking at train tickets to that town.

“Yeah, why not?” A replied. He was so focused on what he was doing that he hadnt noticed B's discomfort.

“I just think… and please dont laugh… but what if everything these posters are saying is true?” B asked. “What if we really do encounter something?”

“Dont be so ridiculous.” A said, laughing a little. “Its obviously fake! None of that stuff is real.” he said with total confidence. I didnt say anything at the time, but i agreed with A.

“Well if you really think itll be fine…” B said, trailing off a little. “I’ll come with you guys. If it does turn out to be a fun trip, i dont want to have missed out because i was being a scaredy cat”

All agreeing, we booked train tickets up to that small town and planned how we would actually reach Bonnie’s Fayre. It wasnt too hard. A was naturally an organised person, so he did most of the hard work.

The day of the trip came around fairly quickly. The train journey wasnt going to be a particularly long one, but i could still get through a couple of chapters of the book i had been reading, as much as A and B complained that i was being antisocial. I just put in my earphones and ignored them.

[user▉▉▉3]

Since we had travelled north, it was cold when we got off the train. Did i mention we made this trip in mid-autumn, so the weather where we lived wasnt freezing yet but there was still a definite chill to the air.

I shivered as i did up my coat and looked around. A had gone to find the bus timetable and look up where we had to head next. B and i stood there alone for a while before B looked to me and asked “do you really think this is a good idea? Youre not just going along with A’s crazy ideas?”

“What? No im up for this. It does seem like a cool place to have visited so why not?” i replied. I wasnt sure why B had gone through with the idea if he was that bothered by it.

“Its nothing. I just had a bad feeling that i coudlnt quite put my finger on…” B said, brushing off the subject. We talking about some more insignificant stuff while we waited for A to return.

Finding Bonnie’s Fayre didnt prove to be too difficult after all. Within about an hour and a half we were staring at the entrance.

I looked to B, who looked like he was about to wet himself. “I think im going to stay here, actually.” he said as he found a place to perch. “Ill be waiting for you guys here”

Neither A nor i pushed B to come with us and just said we would try to be quick.

The place really was like those classic abandoned amusement parks you see in movies. It looked like the construction workers had literally just got up and left no matter whether they were half way through something or not.

A and i walked around for a while. The place was totally silent. I know that probably doesnt sound abnormal for an abandoned place but i mean it was completely silent. I had to clap to make sure I hadnt suddenly gone deaf.

“Woah…” A said, awed by the surroundings.

“Woah indeed…” i echoed

“Hey, you want to go check out that carousel over there?” A suggested. “I bet we could get some really cool photos of that thing.”

A had a fancy digital camera with him. He had been into photography recently and so had brought it with him.

“Sure”

As we were walking over, i suddenly stopped. It took A a few moments to realise i was no longer by his side but then he turned around and asked me what was wrong. “You cant smell that?” i asked.

“Smell what?”

“Just now i could have sworn i could smell something sweet.” i said, frowning in confusion. “It was like those doughnuts you always get at these places”

That made no sense at all. Bonnie’s Fayre was never completed and never opened to the public so even if it was some sort of supernatural smell, it shoudlnt have been doughnuts.

“Must be some kid thats playing a prank” A said with a shrug.

“Yeah i guess…” i replied, thinking he must be right.

As i stepped forward, though, i distinctly heard metal clanking.

“Did you-” i stopped myself asking A, afraid he would tell me i was going crazy and letting the stories get into my head.

“Hm?” A hummed.

“Nothing” i called, then ran to catch up with him.

[user▉▉▉3]

I should have realised it was odd at the time, but that metal clanking sound didnt seem like it was far away or off over somewhere else. No, it was right beside my ear.

The carousel was pretty cool, i had to admit. It was the only completed attraction in the park so it stood out.

A asked me to sit on one of the horses for a photo. I protested, but he said i didnt have to have my face in the photo. Thinking that was alright, i brushed some of the dirt off the seat and climbed up. I put my back to A and waited for him to tell me when he was done taking the photo.

I was actually pretty curious to see how it would come out. It did seem like a pretty awesome setting.

However, no sound came from behind me. I sat there for at least a couple of minutes. Still nothing. As i was about to turn around, i heard something right by my ear again. This time i coudlnt make out what it was. hissing maybe? I didnt know.

There was absolutely no sign of A. he wasnt even standing there anymore.

“Come on, man” i shouted, hoping he would stop this prank. “It’s not funny”

Silence. Not even the sound of the wind in my ears. My mind flicked back to B at the entrance.

“A! Where are you?” i shouted again. Just more silence. Then, metal clanking again. This time it was in the distance.

I made up my mind and headed back the way we had come. B was still sitting there when i reached the entrance we had used.

“Back so soon?” he said, looking up from whatever he was reading on his phone.

“A didnt come back this way?” i asked, suspicious and even anxious now.

“No? Hes not with you?”

“No. he wanted to take a photo over on the carousel” i turned and pointed for B to look. You could just about see it from where we were. “I didnt want my face in the photo so i turned away from him. The next thing i knew he was nowhere to be seen.” i explained. B listened carefully. “I assumed he was just playing a prank so i called out for him but he still didnt show.”

“Thats not like A” B said, thinking.

“Come and help me look?” i asked.

“I really dont want to go in there…” B started. “Okay, ill come and help for As sake, but i want to get out of there as soon as i can. Something really doesnt feel right.”

I nodded. It wasnt just B anymore, i could feel it too.

We walked carefully, hugging our coats around ourselves to try and form a shield from the cold and anything else that might be out there with us. Truthfully at this point i had put paranormal back on the list of possibilities.

“What’s that?” B asked, pointing to a location in the distance. It looked like a block of stone that had started to be cut but was never finished.

“Not sure. Lets go check it out?”

B nodded nervously and we started walking over.

When we got closer, it became clear that rather than a block, it was a partial tunnel. As we approached, i could hear things again.

[user▉▉▉3]

“Can you hear that?” B asked next to me.

“Yeah.” i replied “i heard things before too, but i thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me…”

“No. i can hear that too.”

As we came to the entrance of that partial tunnel the sounds were much louder. The metal clanking was there. Loud. but i also thought i could hear a voice.

The tunnel was pitch black. Neither me nor B could see anything, and the loud noises were making it hard to focus.

“Fuck” i heard B mutter to himself. I had never heard him swear like that before. At least not while sober anyway. “Hey!” he said, keeping his voice as quiet as he could, while still making me able to hear him. I looked at him. “Does that sound like A to you?” he asked. I could see the fear in his eyes.

I had to focus to hear it, but once i zeroed in on the noise, i knew he was right.

Quickly, i nodded at B who visibly shuddered in fear at the confirmation. He pulled his phone from his pocket and tilted it so that i could also see the screen. His finger hovered over the flashlight button and he made eye contact with me, seeking approval for the action.

I took a deep breath and nodded. Even though it was his idea, B hesitated, and he was visibly shaking. It took him a full three attempts to actually press that button on his phone.

When he finally got it, he nervously pointed it into the tunnel. It was a brief moment before B dropped his phone, stumbled around to pick it up, and bolt. However, i still saw what was in that tunnel.

Our suspicions were correct. It was A.

A had metal shackles around his wrists and he was unable to moe more than a foot from the wall behind him. He was slumped in a seated posture, unmoving. ther e was blood all over him. His own. The skin on both of his arms, legs and face had been removed.

The worst part, though, was that A wasnt alone in the tunnel. Crouched before him was a humanoid being. The arms and legs of the creature were far longer than that of an average human, though. The legs werent normal either. The creature squatted, but its knees bent the wrong way to be human. they were more reminiscent of the legs of an animal like a kangaroo. I know now that means the creature also must have been inhumanly fast.

It appeared to be able to see in the dark as well. It didnt need light to go about its task. It was completely hairless and lacked any discernable nose, but in that instant that i saw it, it had turned to face us and was smiling, revealing what looked like rows of sharp teeth doubled up like a shark’s.

As skin was in its hand, and its mouth was covered in blood. This creature had been eating the skin as it had removed it from A’s body. When i think back on what i had heard, i seem to be able to focus on another sound in the din. Chewing.

I couldn't be sure whether it was my imagination, but in that moment i seemed to see A looking at me out of the corner of my eye. ‘Go’ he mouthed.

[user▉▉▉3]

I turned and ran after B, hoping to whatever god that might exist that the creature wasnt going to follow me too.

As i ran, i heard another noise right next to my hear. A raspy laugh. It was brief, but i will never get that sound out of my mind.

B was at the entrance where we had come in, gasping for breath and as white as a sheet. “What was that?” he asked. I didnt have an answer for him.

Neither of us wanted to hang around for long, afraid that we might see that creature in the light, or that it might come for us. We made our way back to the train station trying not to draw much attention to ourselves.

Thankfully, both B and i managed to make it home safely, but a week later they discovered A’s body. After that creature had finished with his arms, legs and face, it had moved to his torso. It was said that some parts of his organs looked as though they had been messed with, but the investigators couldnt be certain it wasnt animals that had feasted on him after his death.

They couldnt work out what had happened but they knew that A had gone to Bonnie’s Fayre with B and i. We were both called in and questioned. But i wont bother telling you about the aftermath, it doesnt really matter.

Im sorry for the long story, but this is why i tell others not to visit Bonnie’s Fayre under any circumstances. I hope that if my story is shared it can help preserve the lives of others in the future. Please dont take what ive said lightly.

#intentionally shit grammar #horror fiction #horror story #halloween #tw gore #tw death #tw blood #paranormal #chestnuttoast short stories #writing #short story

[newstfionline]

Tuesday, October 5, 2021

‘Major’ Oil Spill Off California Coast Threatens Wetlands and Wildlife (NYT) A pipeline failure off the coast of Orange County, Calif., on Saturday caused at least 126,000 gallons of oil to spill into the Pacific Ocean, creating a 13-square-mile slick that continued to grow on Sunday, officials said. Dead fish and birds washed ashore in some places as cleanup crews raced to try to contain the spill, which created a slick that extended from Huntington Beach to Newport Beach. It was not immediately clear what caused the leak, which officials said occurred three miles off the coast of Newport Beach and involved a pipeline failure. Mayor Kim Carr of Huntington Beach said at a news conference on Sunday afternoon that the spill was “one of the most devastating situations our community has dealt with in decades.”

The Pandora Papers (Foreign Policy) The massive leak of secret financial data has revealed the offshore wealth of some of the world’s most powerful people. The data, dubbed the Pandora Papers by International Consortium of Investigative Journalists—the group that spearheaded the project—shows how far some world leaders, billionaires, and other oligarchs have gone to hide their wealth. Considering the vast wealth of America’s own oligarchs, it’s surprising on first blush to see no U.S. names mentioned. One simple explanation, put forward by the Washington Post, is that U.S. millionaires and billionaires have enough tools available within the U.S. tax code to shield most of their wealth already.

Spain’s foreign tourism soars but well below pre-pandemic level (Reuters) Foreign tourism to Spain rose rapidly in August as looser travel restrictions tempted back summer sunseekers though visitor numbers remained at around half their pre-pandemic levels, official statistics showed on Monday. The number of foreign tourists visiting in August more than doubled from a year ago to 5.19 million but was still barely above half the level seen in 2019, the National Statistics Institute said on Monday.

Farmers among 8 killed as India protest erupts in violence (CNN) At least eight people were killed when violence broke out in India’s Uttar Pradesh state on Sunday after a car linked to a federal minister ran over two farmers taking part in a protest against controversial farm laws. A farmers’ union spokesperson said Sunday the deaths happened after a convoy of vehicles associated with junior home affairs minister Ajay Mishra Teni “ran over several protesters.” Protests in Lakhimpur Kheri began on September 25 after Teni reportedly said “farmers should reform themselves or they will be reformed,” according to CNN affiliate CNN-News18.

India’s Christians living in fear as claims of ‘forced conversions’ swirl (Guardian) It was a stifling July afternoon when the crowd moved into the small district of Lakholi, in the Indian state of Chhattisgarh, and gathered outside the house of Tamesh War Sahu. Sahu, a 55-year-old volunteer with the Home Guard who had begun following Christianity more than five years previously, had never before had issues with his neighbours. But now, more than 100 people had descended from surrounding villages and were shouting Hindu nationalist slogans outside his front door. Sahu’s son Moses, who had come out to investigate the noise, was beaten by the mob, who then charged inside. As the men entered the house, they shouted death threats at Sahu’s wife and began tearing posters bearing Bible quotes down from the walls. Bibles were seized from the shelves and brought outside where they were set alight, doused in water and the ashes thrown in the gutter. “We will teach you a lesson,” some people were heard to shout. “This is what you get for forcing people into Christianity.”      Sahu’s family was not the only one attacked that day. Four other local Christian households were also targeted by mobs, led by the Hindu nationalist vigilante group Bajrang Dal, known for their aggressive and hardline approach to “defending” Hinduism. Since the beginning of the year there have been similar attacks across Chhattisgarh, already the Indian state with the second highest number of incidents against Christians. In some villages, Christian churches have been vandalised, in others pastors have been beaten or abused. Congregations have been broken up by mobs and believers hospitalised with injuries. The police, too, stand accused—of making threats to Christians, hauling them into police stations and carrying out raids on Sunday prayer services. The attacks have coincided with renewed attention on a longstanding claim from rightwing Hindu groups: that a string of forced conversions are taking place in Chhattisgarh. Such claims have been made by senior figures in the ruling Hindu nationalist Bharatiya Janata party (BJP), which governs India.

Japan’s Parliament elects former diplomat Kishida as new PM (AP) Japan’s parliament on Monday elected Fumio Kishida, a former moderate turned hawk, as prime minister. He’ll face an economy battered by the pandemic, security threats from China and North Korea and leadership of a political party whose popularity is sagging ahead of a fast-approaching crucial national election. He replaces Yoshihide Suga, who resigned after only one year in office as his support plunged over his government’s handling of the pandemic and insistence on holding the Tokyo Olympics as the virus spread.

New Zealand admits it can no longer get rid of coronavirus (AP) New Zealand’s government acknowledged Monday what most other countries did long ago: It can no longer completely get rid of the coronavirus. Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern announced a cautious plan to ease lockdown restrictions in Auckland, despite an outbreak there that continues to simmer. Since early in the pandemic, New Zealand had pursued an unusual zero-tolerance approach to the virus through strict lockdowns and aggressive contact tracing. Under Ardern’s plan that starts Tuesday, Aucklanders will be able to meet outdoors with loved ones from one other household, early childhood centers will reopen and people will be able to go to the beach. The dates for a phased reopening of retail stores and later bars and restaurants have yet to be decided.

3,000 Yazidis Are Still Missing. Their Families Know Where Some of Them Are. (NYT) The voice messages sent by Abbas Hussein’s teenage son are heartbreaking in their matter-of-factness. The boy, a member of Iraq’s Yazidi minority who was kidnapped by Islamic State fighters seven years ago, asks about his mother and wonders why his father has not been in touch. In the messages sent last summer to his father, an unemployed laborer, the son says his captor will not let him send any more because his parents have not delivered payments as demanded. “Father, if you don’t have money, that’s OK. Just let me know,” says the teenager, who still has the voice of a child. “I will work and save money and give it to him to let me talk to you.”      Mr. Hussein has known for more than a year that his son and five other relatives are being held in Turkish-controlled northern Syria by a former ISIS fighter who joined the Syrian National Army—a Turkish-backed coalition of armed opposition groups that includes mercenaries and Syrian rebels. He’s one of roughly 3,000 Yazidis still missing after being captured by ISIS during its takeover of parts of Iraq and Syria. While most of the missing are presumed dead, hundreds more are thought to be alive and held captive in Syria or Turkey. In some cases, their families know where they are and have even been in contact with them or their captors. But financial support from governments and private donors, as well as interest from them in finding the missing Yazidis, has dried up.

Taliban-style security welcomed by some, feared by others (AP) It wasn’t 7 a.m. yet and already the line outside the police station’s gates was long, with men bringing their complaints and demands for justice to Afghanistan’s new Taliban rulers. Something new they immediately found: The Taliban fighters who are now the policemen don’t demand bribes like police officers did under the U.S-backed government of the past 20 years. “Before, everyone was stealing our money,” said Hajj Ahmad Khan, who was among those in line at the Kabul District 8 police station on a recent day. “Everywhere in our villages and in government offices, everyone had their hands out,” he said.      Many Afghans fear the harsh ways of the Taliban, their hard-line ideology or their severe restrictions of women’s freedoms. But the movement does bring a reputation for not being corrupt, a stark contrast to the government it ousted, which was notoriously rife with bribery, embezzlement and graft. Even residents who shudder at the potential return of punishments—such as chopping off the hands of thieves—say some security has returned to Kabul since the Taliban swept in on Aug. 15. Under the previous government, gangs of thieves had driven most people off the streets by dark. Several roads between cities are again open and have even been given the green light for travel by some international aid organizations.

Deadly, historic Tropical Cyclone Shaheen departs Oman after devastating flooding (Washington Post) In the course of a single day, an exceptionally rare hurricane-strength storm unloaded up to four years’ worth of rain along Oman’s northern coast, causing deadly flooding. Named Tropical Cyclone Shaheen, the tempest slammed ashore late Sunday, about 50 miles to the west of Muscat, Oman’s capital city. The storm has since departed, but not before leaving 11 dead in Oman, mostly because of flash flooding and landslides. The storm was also blamed for two fatalities in Iran, where the bodies of two fishermen were found.

#headlines #news

[scrapironflotilla]

Anzac is so much more than Gallipoli

Another Anzac day has come around and with the lock-downs and global pandemic it seemed like it would be different. But having a listen to the news or a quick scroll through the other blue hellsite, F*c*b**k, it looks like this Anzac Day is more similar than different. The reverence, the mystique and the myths are all still there, with a massive dose of social media self indulgence. So I’ll probably stay away from that today and instead talk about some history.

I don’t have a favourite aspect of the Anzac legend. I don’t think I even can. The very concept of the Anzac Legend bothers me. This is our recent history. Its members, who have all died, are still within living memory of many millions of people. The events are so well documented that we can follow some of them minute by minute in the diaries, letters and reports created by the participants. I understand the desire to turn these stories into legend and myth, especially in a country like Australia after the war and certainly in the last decades of the 20th century.

I understand how the virtues and values of the AIF made for such fertile imaginative ground in an inter-war world. The romance of war, lost on the battlefields of Europe and the Middle East, was much harder to destroy far away in the colonies, where people experienced little hardship compared to those on the continent.

I understand how and why the AIF became a legend. But I don’t think I can believe in it.

But what does it matter if I believe in it or not? It’s important to tens of millions of Australians and the government tightly controls public commemoration and the Anzac brand. The military indoctrinates its members with to strive for an unattainable Anzac perfection. A newly minted army officer once told me that during his training his instructors had screamed at these cadets, ranting at them about how unworthy they were, how they could never live up to the Anzac reputation and how they could never lead a digger.

It draws hundreds of thousands every 25 April to dawn memorial services across the world, in events whose gravitas and sombre communion even I can’t deny. It’s this secular religion that makes the legend a reality that we have to contend with. The history may vary widely from the myth, but the myth is potent enough and popular enough to be able to divorce itself from the past. “The AIF”, historian Peter Stanley points out, “has become revered as [our] romantic nationalist mystique”.

The last two or three decades has seen a steady dismantling of the Anzac legend, at least in academic circles. All its basic tenets of natural fighting prowess, mate-ship, equality and the rest have been questioned, criticised and reassessed. But this new understanding hasn’t moved far beyond academia. The short spike in Anzac TV series during the centenary showed the same romantic tragedy and nationalist triumphalism. Popular histories from the 50s and 60s were reprinted and a new slew of books turn up on shelves, from children’s books to all kinds of history and dozens of romance novels. The legend remains deeply entrenched in the Australian imagination. Little in the popular realm even attempts to challenge it in light of new understanding. Even for those in academia the revision of that history has produced harsh reaction from the right, I’m exactly one of those “cadre of academics” associated with those elite, Canberra institutions, that noted crank Bendle talks about there. But that’s the strength of this legend. Its followers take any attempt to examine it and broaden it as denigration. Lest anyone think I’m exaggerating here, just have a look at what happened to ABC presenter Yassmin Abdel-Magied after she tweeted the words “LEST.WE.FORGET. (Manus, Nauru, Syria, Palestine...)” on Anzac Day 2017. She was attacked by the press and government ministers and bombarded with rape and death threats. There’s no doubt much of the faux outrage was inspired by racism and misogyny, but you don’t even need to attack Anzac, but merely recognise that Australia’s history is less than perfect, to be met with a violent, histrionic reaction.

To imagine that the Anzacs were perfect, individually and as a whole, is wilful delusion. They were men and as such fallible. It is no dishonour or disrespect to recognise their humanity in all its complexities. We must know and understand their failures, their embarrassments and their crimes (for they are many and varied) to better place their successes, victories and virtues. To deify them and to force them to represent only what was best, without recognising the fullness of their character, good and bad, robs them of the complexity of their own stories. It robs them of their humanity and us of our history. But while I struggle with the Anzac Legend, I also think there are some little stories that deserve better recognition.

The Anzac mythology upholds a very particular character as representative of the AIF, but little about this legend is uniquely Australian. The language used to express the values, that of the larrikin, the digger and above all else mateship, may be particularly Australian but the values are not. Irreverence and camaraderie are close to universal.

These aren’t values to be denigrated in any way. But they’re representative of most militaries in war. But the AIF did have a character unique to the Australian experience. Much is made of the fact that the AIF was an entirely volunteer organisation. From a population of fewer than five million more than 330,000 men and women served in its ranks between 1914 and 1918. Conscription was put to the people in referenda twice and twice it was defeated. People joined the AIF for the duration of the war. Few pursued careers in the military and although many had prior service it was in the militia, the part time army.

The ranks were filled from the cities, the suburbs and the bush by civilians. Even the officer corps was fleshed out by the professional and middle classes of lawyers, bankers, teachers and the like. These men saw themselves not as regular soldiers, but as civilians in uniform. They saw their role as merely a job, not a calling. They were there to fight the war, to defeat Germany, or the Ottomans, and to go home and back to the farm or the factory.

Australia had one of the strongest trade union and labour movement in the world in the early 20th century. It was the first country to vote a labour government into office and ideas of unionism, collective bargaining and fair work practices were strong in the minds of many working Australians. The language they used and the tactics they employed to deal with the discipline and hierarchy of the military demonstrates just how powerful these beliefs were. Soldiers routinely referred to their officers as their boss, refused orders they thought were unfair and protested their ill treatment by military authorities. They released soldiers imprisoned under field punishment, refused to salute officers and rejected the distinction between officers and other ranks imposed by the British army. They went into clubs, restaurants and hotels set aside of officers, believing strongly that they had the right to drink or eat where they chose.

They took strike action when they felt too much was asked of them, when they were refused rest or when they felt hard done by. When battalions were to be broken up due to lack of replacements in 1918, they mutinied. Refusing orders to disband, they ‘counted out’ senior officers sent to negotiate with them. Counting out consisted of soldiers on parade counting down from ten to one, before shouting a final obscenity at the officer concerned. It was a powerful form of insubordination that humiliated officers when it occurred.

In autumn 1918, after months without leave, Australian battalions took to strike action when they were ordered back into battle. After being promised a fortnight’s rest they were ordered back to the front for an offensive after just a few days. Unhappy troops - veterans, mostly - refused to move. The battalions were well understrength after months of fighting and the men felt they had been lied to, that they had sacrificed enough and that they were being overused. The soldiers took action in the way they knew how. They shot no officers and destroyed no property. For men used to fighting for their rights in the workplace it was natural that they would turn to collective action in trade union style.

(Ex-union organiser and Labor prime minister Billy Hughes, seen here with some of his beloved men. Hughes was a favourite of the Australian troops who dubbed him ‘the Little Digger’)

And so it was in the 15th Brigade, under the command of Harold Elliot. Called Pompey by him men he was a courageous and fatherly figure, both liked and respected by the men under his command. It was his unique character that allowed Pompey to negotiate with his men, although rant and then plead were the words used by diarists, and convince them to follow his orders. Other officers, less well known and less admired by their men failed in similar efforts.

The civilian attitudes made them difficult soldiers to discipline. The standard punishment of the army, called ‘field punishment’ was particularly odious to Australians. Field punishment consisted of being bound to an object, a post or a wagon or gun carriage in the open for a number of hours. Due to the danger of artillery this punishment was not just humiliating but also potentially fatal. Diaries and letters from soldiers are full of stories about field punishment. They usually tell of Australian troops coming across British soldiers undergoing field punishment and freeing them, fighting with guards and military police.

There was a powerful resistance to the dehumanising and anti-individualising aspect of military discipline and authority. The AIF by and large saw themselves as civilians first and soldiers second. They understood the need for discipline and obedience and as more than one Australian noted “we have discipline where it matters”, on the battlefield. But the trappings of military culture and authority were repellent to the Australian working man. Strict obedience to hierarchy and the seemingly pointless requirements of military discipline were not only alien to Australians but went against their own values. Mutual respect was the key to the AIF as most of its officers discovered.

This side of the AIF, the strength of its civilian values is one that ought be remembered and celebrated in Anzac. The ideas from the labour and union movements, the fair go and mutual respect deserve a place alongside mateship and the larrikin as part of Anzac. The men who fought for the eight-hour work day and living wages were the same men who filled the ranks of the AIF and who fill Australian cemeteries in Europe and Turkey.

This is a part of the Anzac story that deserves a better place in our telling of it.

#anzac day #anzac #australian army #wwi #ww1

[caronavirus-covid-19]

The only reason the CDC and states went to the extreme with SARS-CoV 2 and not MERS/SARS, Ebola, or the Swine Flu is how Contagious they are.

SARS/MERS were confined to hospitals. SARS-CoV 2 started in the community.

Ebola virus disease is not transmitted through the air and does not spread through casual contact, such as being near an infected person. Test and Trace was able to isolate them before it could spread.

SARS and MERS: Deadly, but not easily spread

In late 2002, an emerging pathogen that likely spilled over from the animal world started to cause severe respiratory illness in China. Sound familiar? Through the first half of 2003, the severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus (SARS-CoV) spread through 26 countries, infecting at least 8,098 people and killing at least 774.

If the name didn’t give it away, SARS was caused by a virus similar to the one that causes COVID-19, SARS-CoV-2, but it didn’t have nearly the same impact. This is in spite of having a relatively high case fatality rate of 9.6 percent, compared to the current estimate for COVID-19: 1.4 percent.

SARS and MERS didn’t cause the same level of devastation that COVID-19 has largely because they aren’t as easily transmitted. Rather than moving by casual, person-to-person transmission, SARS and MERS spread from much closer contact, between family members or health care workers and patients (or, in the case of MERS, from camels to people directly). These viruses also aren’t spread through presymptomatic transmission, meaning infected people don’t spread it before they have symptoms. Once people got sick, they typically stayed home or were hospitalized, making it harder for them to spread the virus around.

“By and large, except for a couple of mass transmission events, almost all of the transmission of SARS was within the health care setting, when you have an aerosol-generating event like intubating someone or dialysis,” said Stephen Morse, an infectious disease epidemiologist at Columbia University’s Mailman School of Public Health. “So basically, you could control SARS by improving infection control and prevention in the hospitals.”

SWINE FLU was highly contagious BUT NOT AS DEADLY.

Swine flu: Easily spread, but not as deadly

In the spring of 2009, a new version of the H1N1 influenza virus — the virus that caused the 1918 Spanish flu pandemic — emerged and began to spread rapidly. The swine flu killed anywhere from 151,700 to 575,400 people worldwide in its first 12 months, through April 2010, according to estimates from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and may have infected over 1 billion by the end of 2010.

The swine flu spread easily person-to-person, just like COVID-19, and possibly even from people who were presymptomatic. Its R0, or R-naught, a measure of how many people an infectious person could infect, is between 1.4 and 1.6. This is a little lower than COVID-19, which experts estimate has a R-naught of between 1.5 and 3.5, but it still means H1N1 is a very infectious virus.

So why didn’t the swine flu overwhelm our health care systems and grind our economies to a halt? The main difference is that it ended up being a much milder and less deadly infection. There are a range of estimated case fatality rates for swine flu, but even the highest, less than 0.1 percent, are much lower than the current estimates for COVID-19.

“The 2009 pandemic, the H1N1 swine flu, that [disease] spread very, very well, but the fatality rate was quite low, and that’s the reason why it wasn’t dubbed as a particularly serious pandemic,” said Dr. Anthony Fauci, director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases and a member of the White House’s coronavirus task force, in a February livestream.

Even with such a low case fatality rate, the swine flu had a high overall death toll due in part to how easily it spread. With an even higher case fatality rate and perhaps even a higher rate of transmission, COVID-19 has required drastic measures to prevent its spread.

Ebola: Very severe, but hard to contract

Ebola first emerged in 1976, and the world has weathered outbreaks at various points since then, including one in West Africa from 2014 to 2016. It’s a severe disease that kills, on average, 50 percent of people who become infected, according to the World Health Organization. Yet just over 11,000 people died during the 2014-2016 outbreak, which was largely isolated to the region where it emerged.

Similar to MERS and SARS, Ebola is not easily transmittable. Infected people don’t spread the virus until they start showing symptoms, and even then the virus is hard to catch because it is spread through direct contact with the bodily fluid of an infected person, like blood, sweat, and urine, rather than through the kind of particles produced when someone sneezes or speaks. Unless you’re nursing patients (either at home or in a hospital setting) or tending to their body after they’ve died, it’s unlikely you’d acquire the infection.

Ebola also tends to cause pretty severe and identifiable symptoms, such as fever and fatigue followed by vomiting and diarrhea. Not only can infected people not spread the virus until they’re sick, but once they become sick, they’ll know it.

“If you want to see illnesses which are controllable, they all have transmission very much tied to symptoms, and this includes SARS and Ebola,” said William Hanage, an epidemiologist at the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health. “If you’re in an Ebola zone, you can be pretty sure whether or not the person you’re talking to is a potentially risky contact.”

This makes it easier to isolate infected individuals and protect health care workers to limit the spread, which is what occurred in the 2014-2016 outbreak. It’s a striking difference from COVID-19, which we know can be spread without any symptoms at all, and even when people get sick, some people might have symptoms so mild that they’re not sure they have COVID-19 in the first place.

In each of these cases, the viral outbreak lacked one of the key components that COVID-19 has that allowed it to tip over into a global pandemic. “SARS-CoV-2 is kind of a perfect storm,” said Angela Rasmussen, a virologist at Columbia University who specializes in infectious diseases.

COVID-19 can be mild enough that some people who have it don’t know they have it. It’s also easily spread, can be transmitted by presymptomatic people and is severe enough to kill a significant share of those who have it. All combined, the novel coronavirus has led to an outbreak that is unusually difficult to track and control. The seismic shift in our everyday lives is happening for a reason.

CORRECTION (April 15, 9:40 a.m.): An earlier version of this article misstated the number of people who died from swine flu since 2009. Between 151,700 and 575,400 people died in the first 12 months after the virus emerged; that range does not include all deaths since 2009. The article has also been updated to make clear that the swine flu infected over 1 billion people by the end of 2010 — again, that does not include all infections since 2009.

https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/why-did-the-world-shut-down-for-covid-19-but-not-ebola-sars-or-swine-flu/

#COVID-19 #sars coronavirus #sars cov 2 #ebola virus #mers cov #2009 h1n1 swine flu deaths