I like to think that Vulcans who come to understand that Humans just can’t try to process emotions the same way as them, it’s just healthiest to let it out in harmless ways, decide that venting and stuff should be taken just as seriously as Vulcan’s meditation time, and will encourage the Humans around them to complain about what’s upsetting them
People who are used to aloof Vulcans who avoid Humans at all cost running into one comforting a Human
“-and then they said my cheesecake was subpar, and they didn’t even bring a dish!!!”
“The purpose of this event was that every participant brings a food item of sorts, correct?”
“Yeah!!”
“And they did not follow this rule while insulting dishes that were brought?”
Yakuza, Oxbow, & Sybris Live Show Review: 2/25, Thalia Hall, Chicago
Yakuza's Jerome Marshall & Bruce Lamont
BY JORDAN MAINZER
For two Chicago bands, Sunday night was all about reflection. First and foremost, local metal legends Yakuza were there to celebrate 25 years of existence. They first caught the eyes and ears of listeners with their independently released debut album Amount to Nothing before signing to a label for 2002's Way of the Dead, an album that truly introduced them as a hard rock band with elements of avant-garde and jazz. On Yakuza records, folks like Ken Vandermark and Fred Lonberg-Holm would rub elbows with members of Mastodon; founding member Bruce Lamont, the lead singer and saxophonist/clarinetist, was the tying thread between the musical worlds. Yakuza steadily released records for the next 10 years before taking a decade-long break, while Lamont would stay active, playing saxophone, participating in bands like Bloodiest and Corrections House, and tending bar at Empty Bottle. Finally, last year, Yakuza picked up where they left off with Sutra (Svart), a record that again dipped its toes into seemingly disparate genres--thrash, prog, free jazz--and managed to churn out a cohesive stew.
From left to right: Marshall, James Staffel, Lamont, Matt McClelland
Sunday night, the Sutra songs sounded among the best, standing tall with Yakuza's back catalog. Set opener "Capricorn Rising" gradually built into a chug, Lamont alternating between sax flourishes and a chanted vocal. Matt McClelland's brawny guitar carried "Burn Before Reading". In general, the rhythm section--bassist Jerome Marshall and drummer James Staffel--provided steadily swirling noise to contrast the unpredictability of McClelland's riffs and Lamont's incantations. Perhaps the most moving moment of the night was when Lamont, visibly choked up, dedicated a song to the late Mars Williams, a fellow Chicago area journeyman saxophonist who passed away late last year.
McClelland
Lamont, Staffel, & McClelland
Lamont, Staffel, & McClelland
Sybris' Shaun Podgurski and Angela Mullenhour
Speaking of decades of inactivity, how about Sybris? The local stalwarts, who have released only two records, 2005's self-titled LP and 2008's Into the Trees, played their first Chicago show in 10 years last summer and are now gearing up to release their long-shelved third album Gold on Hold (Absolutely Kosher), recorded in 2011. It's very easy to play "what if?" with the four-piece, as their unique mix of epic, feelings-heavy indie rock and nervy rhythms could have seen them further soar among beloved sounds and bands of the 2010s: the early 2010s emo revival, the late 2010s post-punk revival, Screaming Females, and Hop Along, to name a few. On Sunday, they primed the passionate crowd with clear old favorites, like the jagged "Hurt Hawk", country-tinged burner "Burnout Babies", slow love song "Blame It On The Baseball", and the thunderous "Something About A Darkhorse Or Whatever". As if to whet our appetites for what's to come, they ended their set with two Gold on Hold tracks: the unreleased "Dance" and driving album opener "Watermelon". For music fans all over the globe, Gold on Hold should be one of the more anticipated upcoming releases of the remaining year.
From left to right: Podgurski, Mullenhour, Clayton DeMuth, Phil Naumann
Naumann
Podgurski, Mullenhour, Naumann
From left to right: Oxbow's Dan Adams, Eugene Robinson, Greg Davis, & Niko Wenner
In between the two Windy City phoenixes? None other than San Francisco experimentalists Oxbow, who used the most of their 40-minute set, not limiting the sensory experiences and media to just music. Indeed, for five-plus minutes, they played a short film, whose images, sound-tracked by a droning instrumental, repeatedly cut to black, as if they were pulsating. All this time, they were burning incense. When guitarist/keyboardist Niko Wenner, bassist Dan Adams, and drummer Greg Davis finally entered the stage, they launched into the pseudo funk of Thin Black Duke highlight "A Gentleman's Gentleman". Eventually, vocalist Eugene Robinson sauntered on and did what he does: screech and wail devastating lyrics, his voice raw as hell, and expressively dance and convulse. Similar to Yakuza, Oxbow's most recent songs, from last year's Love's Holiday (Ipecac), sounded the most fresh and urgent: "The Night the Room Started Burning", "Icy White & Crystalline", and "Lovely Murk". The album version of the last one features Kristin Hayter, who Robinson made sure to mention was not there but is playing Thalia Hall in a couple months. Nonetheless, Wenner admirably filled in, emulating her soulful vocal turn. And the band took time to remember another experimental genius and collaborator who passed last year, Peter Brötzmann, but made sure to take advantage of Lamont's saxophone prowess, having him fill in on tempo-changing freak-out "Cat and Mouse". (Though "Cat and Mouse" was released on their sophomore album King of the Jews, their live version with Brötzmann has become well known.) While the three bands who played on Sunday might have constituted an odd group on paper, all share one of the preeminent qualities of good performers: unbridled passion.
the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
i am thinking how much poorer, how much less colorful the world would be if art was only made by "professionals." if all the music, all the stories, all the sketches & paintings & craftwork of the world was created only by the small category of people able to make a decent living from their art. imagine if the only people allowed to create were the experts & the renowned & those aspiring to the top. what a grey world that would be. how much joy would be bleached away! i love you people who create for the sake of creating, i love you artists who do art for tiny audiences, i love you people who make things even just for one person, even just for themselves, even if no one's watching, thank you thank you thank you for decorating the world in which we all exist
Hot 4am take but I feel like if we want to get people more interested in making their yards a more habitable space for wildlife like insects, we have to acknowledge that ‘Don’t want bugs in your house’ is still a 100% fair and valid point of view. ‘Loves nature’ and ‘doesn’t want roaches spiders and mosquitoes in the house’ aren’t opposites.
And with that in mind, when we propose to people that spraying pesticides around houses is Not A Good Idea, Actually, I feel like we need to give an alternative asides from ‘deal with it.’
I rarely post personal stuff on here but irl I'm a writer whose work covers tech and AI quite a bit and with the WGA strike ongoing, I really want to stress that the reason Hollywood execs and higher-ups think they can just replace writers with chatgpt or have someone come and edit AI generated text is because they already think writing is that easy.
these people look at their shows, movies, etc as marketable (re, profitable) content so all they are watching for is "okay this show performed badly" and "this movie performed well" and I can promise you in a boardroom the quality, the time and effort that went into the actual writing is NEVER discussed as a contributing factor when it comes to the difference between those two things.
That's also the reason tools like chatgpt seem like magic to these people, because they've devalued the act of creation and everything that goes into making something that resonates with its audience, so naturally something that can scrape the entire digital world and spit something out that falls in line with what you asked seems like a wizard's spell, because they ALREADY think of writing as an afterthought, something where they just go "I need a show that appeals to the 16-24 age range" and writers can just fill in the blanks and they won't have to PAY PEOPLE for that.
There's a vast difference between art and content, and if you want to see more of the former, you should be furious they're trying to replace writers with what is essentially a programmable template generator. Pay your writers.
Miguel is Fine, Actually (Being Spider-Man's Just Toxic As Hell)
Before I watched ATSV I said that I would defend my man Miguel O'Hara's actions no matter what, because he's always valid and I support women's wrongs. I was joking, and I did not actually expect to start defending him on Tumblr.edu. But I'm seeing a lot of commentary that's super reductive, so I do want to bring up another perspective on his character.
Miguel wasn't acting against the spirit of Spider-Man, or what being Spider-Man means. Miguel isn't meant to represent the antithesis of Spider-Man. Miles is the antithesis of Spider-Man. Miguel represents Spider-Man taken to its extreme.
Think about Miguel's actions from his perspective. If you were a hero who genuinely, legitimately, 100%, no doubt about it, believed that somebody is going to make a selfish decision that will destroy an entire universe and put the entire multiverse at severe risk - if you had an over-burdened sense of responsibility and believed in doing the right thing no matter what - you would also chase down the kid and put him in baby jail to try and prevent it. He believed that he was saving the multiverse, and that Miles was putting it in danger for selfish reasons. Which is completely unforgivable to him, because selfishness is what he hates the most. And then he goes completely out of pocket and starts beefing with a 15yo lmfaooo he's such a dick.
But why did Miguel believe that? Why did he believe that Miles choosing himself and his own happiness over the well-being of others was the worst possible thing? Why did he believe that tragedy was inevitable in their lives, and that without tragedy Spider-Man can't exist?
Because he's Spider-Man.
Peter Parker was once a fifteen year old who chose his own happiness over protecting others. It was the greatest regret of his life and he never forgave himself. Peter's ethos means that he will put himself last every time, and that he will sacrifice anything and everything in his life - his relationships, his health, his future - to protecting and helping others. Peter dropped out of college because it interfered with Spider-Man. He destroyed his own future for Spider-Man. He ruins friendships and romantic relationships because Spider-Man was more important. If Peter ever tries to protect himself and his own happiness, then he's a bad person.
That is intrinsic to Peter. Peter would not be Peter without it. A story that is not defined by Peter's unhappiness is not a Spider-Man story. If Peter doesn't make himself miserable, then he's just not Peter.
That is a Spider-Man story: that not only is tragedy inevitable, that if you don't allow yourself to be defined by your tragedy then you're a bad person. If you don't suffer, then you're a bad person. If you ever put anything above Spider-Man, then you're killing Uncle Ben all over again. Miguel isn't the only one that believes this - as we saw, every Spider-Man buys into what he's saying. There's no Spider-Man without these beliefs.
Miguel attempted to find his own happiness, and he was punished in the most extreme way. He got Uncle Ben'd x10000. He tried to be happy, and it literally destroyed his entire universe. It's the Spider-narrative taken to the extreme. Of course Miguel believes all of this. Of course he believes this so firmly. He's Spider-Man. That's his story. And the one time Miguel tried to fight against that story, he was punished. And like any Spider-Man, he'll slavishly obey that narrative no matter the evil it creates and perpetuates. Because if he doesn't, the narrative will punish him. The narrative will always punish him. It's a Spider-Man story.
I don't think the universal constant between Spider-Mans, the thing that makes them Spider-Man, is tragedy. I think it's the fact that they never forgive themselves. And Miguel is what that viewpoint creates. He doesn't believe this things because he's an awful, mean person. He believes them because he's a hero. He's a good person who hates himself.
Across the Spider-verse isn't really a Spider-Man story. It's a story about Spider-Man stories. Miguel's right: if this was a Spider-Man story, then Miles acting selfishly really would destroy the universe. But Miles' story isn't interested in punishing him. It pushes back against Peter's narrative that unhappiness is inevitable and that you have to suffer to be a good person. It says that sometimes we do the right thing from love and not fear, and that Peter's way of thinking is ultimately super toxic and unhappy. ITSV was about Miles deciding that he didn't need to be Peter Parker, that all he needed to be was Miles, and ATSV is about how being Peter Parker isn't such a good thing. Miguel shows that. Whatever toxic and unhealthy beliefs he holds - they're the exact same beliefs that any Spider-Man holds. He's a dick, but I don't think he's any more awful a person than Peter is.
TL;DR: Miguel isn't a bad person, he just has Spider-Man brainrot.
coming out as a massively obsessive digital circus fangirl,,these little freaks have leeched onto my brain and I will be rocking in a corner mumbling to myself waiting for the next episode...
anyways here's the three stooges featuring my sister's jax design because it is super cool and awesome
I think the reason people don't like you anymore is because you're vanilla but refuse to accept that. You pride yourself in being an enforcer of social norms on the platform where half its users have a shrine dedicated to Neil fucking Gaiman. You have the superman lust, though, except it's just plain lust. You don't do anything special with it. There's also the fact that you don't provide a service other than comedy. Be an artist man, draw superman in whatever way you desire. Hell, you can even implement that into your routine by making it cruddy as fuck. I'm not saying you fell off, though. You stayed the same except we climbed higher... or lower if you don't like making the same few jokes constantly like a Gatling gun. I'm just saying your comedy is on the same level as mine and that's not getting me anywhere now is it?