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hanzi83 · 1 year

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The “Everyone Puts On an NWO Shirt” Edition

The last blog I wrote about the right wing shift within entertainment seeping into politics was published before I saw the shit storm after “Progressive” host Cenk from TYT had to double down on what his co-host Ana Kasparian’s reactionary position is and then play the victims. Like I am sure there have been and will be bad faith actors trying to make shit worst, but most of the peers of these people were not shitting on them completely and approaching why the rhetoric is dangerous and covered it on their shows because TYT is an influential platform, you don’t believe me, watch one of their live 2 hour streams where the commercials are literally sucking their own dick about how further they were compared to other progressive movements and how many times they are right, so when they argue in bad faith, and people are telling you to reflect and reconsider the angle you are taken, if you care about the marginalized communities that you claim to fight for then why are these people becoming Bill Maher. A lot of leftists are nice about this to a fault because they don’t want to burn the bridge with TYT, but they are certainly trying to burn bridges with other leftists. Ana flat out said she is done collaborating with other leftists because they get used and get boosted up to trash them. I can understand the Jimmy Dore’s of the world doing shit like that, but the people they are claiming now called them names etc, didn’t call them names at all. Just because people call you out on your bad takes that are conveniently getting boosted up by the usual right wing suspects online, then maybe rethink your position but these people want to be known for their informative stories but incorporate shitty entertainment to get sitcom dialogue off, because that is what we need, more political commentators doing their Trump impression. Let me sum up the situation before I go further, because maybe people don’t get what is going on. I know me expressing myself via blog will make people catch feelings but anything I write or say is just my opinion and my theory. Remember people weaponized the mentally ill shit on me to discredit me but then suddenly think I am credible if I dare question conspiracy theories. The reason I want to try and explain and go through the process, because I have seen my fair share of rebranding with public figures, you start to see the trend and this one with TYT it has been one of those rebrands that feel like one of the forced things on the planet. I never seen it be so fucking transparent, and maybe that is by design because you either die a hero or live long enough to become a villain.

So let me point out better and more informed people who have written or talked about this have done a good job and go look at their coverage and opinions about this. I know I am not well versed in how to articulate myself at times, and there are always vultures trying to take advantage, it probably doesn’t help that I run my digital mouth when I feel people are being recruited to joining the right wing side and people will lesser of the 2 evils this shit, which they had condemned if people voted for a democrat. They spent years generalizing Trump supporters, and now when they are ready to pivot to the right, suddenly they promote peaceful shit with people who are being radicalized to tink minority groups are lesser than, So Ana from TYT, did a video a few years back about inclusive language in medical procedures to referring to trans men as birthing people, and if you are someone who has not listened to in depth politics regarding the matter from people in that community and you are genuinely confused and you consume shit through entertainment, especially Joe Rogan who seems like he knows about what happens in sports, now I don’t know shit about it, so someone who is a sports person talking about this issue I tend to stop trying to think and assume these people are experts in this shit. There are people who get funded to go more regressive attitudes and persuade people that way, so now because these issues get pushed by celebrities, who don’t play by regular rules, maybe some of the same qualities but ultimately these people all have an agenda, sure they have talent, but there is always a portion of them that is designed to persuade people, it only becomes obvious when it is something progressive pushed, and if you need an art form to specifically blame, it will be hip hop a lot of the time. So when most people in general don’t care about this issue because it doesn’t affect their lives, they have now convinced people the internet is 100 percent real with what is put on there, and because MSM doesn’t cover it, people think they stumbled upon plutonium, they probably watched a bunch of illuminati youtube videos where ominous music is playing in the background while you show different celebrities covering one eye. They think they are the only ones stumbling across this shit, and because MSM is completely shit with issues, that seems to be the role they have played in a more obvious ways to uplift other alt media platforms that pride themselves on being better than MSM but still pretty much have an establishment show. That is what TYT seems to be about more so than ever, Ana Kasparian and Cenk sold their souls to do shitty sitcom banter and trying to be “fair” to powerful right wingers when the systemic trajectory is by default a right wing system, no matter who the fucking president is. They will say they are telling you the truth about telling you how the system is being more and more corrupt, they show trauma porn a lot of the fucking time, then condemn people for being a bit reactionary when powerful right wingers are normalizing Nazi level shit against them, someone like Ana, who so badly wants to be a showbiz celebrity type, which is why a lot of alt media people who cover news never disclose how some of these big time celebrities and larger than life personalities are just regular people, she just said on her show “If Trump was just a comedian I would support him all day but he is running for president” like being a celebrity, you can’t be a government agent who manufactures consent and a cult. They feel so powerful for dumbing down villains that are a serious threat, but you are not supposed to think that because the “liberal establishment” is making fun of him all day and presenting theatrical cases that are more for the sports entertainment so it prolongs but sets you up for the inevitable because his followers who have large following and social clout, are presenting themselves like this could happen to anyone, when it has been happening to people, but they make it seem like they are actually going to do shit with Trump, and so when his side fights back, they will feel they have been targeted and victimized by the establishment while falling for another establishment person who is probably working with the people who claim to hate him so they can usher in fascism. I am getting a bit off track, but no one checks for my blogs unless it is powerful people who will find a way to mentally torment me for writing down my theories that was agreed upon that would mean I would have to be irrelevant. So Ana and Cenk start a shit storm on twitter and even tried to bait people on their show, and when they didn’t receive a reply, Ana went on the attack to someone who basically said she didn’t want to coddle her feelings when she was the one who started to bitch about birthing people term like it is some random opinion, while so many bills are being passed, the right wing sensationalizing videos online, Tucker basically telling his viewers these people are a fucking danger, these people know what they are doing when putting out the opinion, people pushed back against it, some were not so nice, some were trying to reason with them, and now they present it like “YOU CAN’T STOP US FROM THINKING WHAT WE THINK” in which seems to be one of the worst pivots to the right wing when it has been building for a while through some of their opinions. They fear monger about crime, and even the people who counter them with facts get discredited, but I feel both sides are missing that these billionaires, who fund protests, and fund chaos in school boards, people don’t want to believe these people could fund sensationalist crime for viral moments, that add to narratives of crime getting out of control, but TYT will use how regular citizens are scared and what do you tell them, but considering a few months ago during one of their commercial breaks, Ana admitted when reading a user comment, she thinks they are sensationalizing the crime so people fear justice reform, and I figured she would incorporate that eventually but she kept going on fear mongering about the homeless and the crime, and it feels even people who have to counter her within the rules of kayfabe, they can’t be conspiratorial and act like this shit is done by design, our lives have become a funded reality show, and we are using examples to chastise the most vulnerable, like with that new NCAA right wing spokesperson athlete who is speaking at Turning Point USA sponsored shit to spew paid speech for this political sports entertainment, she was confronted by attackers, and TYT chastises the people in that community like “You are not gonna change these people’s minds who might not be familiar with trans stuff” listen there are legit regular people who have been dumbed down by the system who might legit might not know, but this athlete is in a position where she is probably being funded to speak this “truth” because we assume the politically incorrect opinion is some genuine truth when it has been as funded as overly politically correct shit. And they use these sensationalist celebrity examples to then go the angle of “Look I am not a right winger, but this is why they have a point” and quite frankly Cenk and Ana don’t have the charisma to pull it off, they know they are blowing the remaining goodwill they had to now play catch up with Jimmy Dore and others like him because they can’t admit they want to sell out and go that way, when you have prominent right wing accounts encouraging you to get red pilled, it is not a good sign and because I believe shit is gimmicked, TYT has always, in my opinion reported on gimmicked storylines that are designed for culture war issues while sprinkling in some real commentary, so now Ana is doing a story where to show she is a credible journalist she retracted a story about Rebekah Jones, who claimed that her son was arrested for a meme but it turns out he was gonna threaten to shoot up a school. It was an obvious smear job for DeSantis, so now all the right wing accounts have been calling this woman out, since the world wants you to go into a more right wing mentality in subtle ways, you now have TYT being “fair” to DeSantis that this sports entertainment patsy tried to smear his name when she has a history of fucked up shit like stalking etc, but to me it feels like an obvious attempt to whitewash DeSantis more and more. I have an issue because these people pretended to be for the left and did some good things but ultimately they want to sell out but before they do, they want to act like they were pushed to it. Pro wrestling 101 for heels. They won’t care because they will get their paydays, but they better realize the aesthetic might be nice, you will be protected, you will use your power to fuck up people’s lives, but everyone in your life will hate you and I am sure a lot of sell outs think they need to do whatever to survive for their families and maybe you will have the aesthetic, but you will feel miserable more and more because all of this to have a lame comedy bit where you and whatever host you have on are trying to reboot your favorite comedies and think your banter is actually fucking funny.

Now that I have seen my fair share of in fighting being promoted while the world gets worse and then we define these systemic issues by the personality and celebrity involved, I am going to question if the people who are opposing TYT are not gonna find their way to become more right wing down the fucking line. It is not a farfetched assumption. Because sometimes people who cover politics, then come off like marks for entertainment, because that fuels everything which is why everyone and everything has to be some sort of nonstop comedy and Murder She Wrote mystery. Even the stuff with these leaks from the Pentagon, feels gimmicked, like the system wants you to know this information, but because we have to pretend that internet is some underground message board where no one else but you and your friends are into, people then think “MSM not covering this” but then other highly platformed shows are covering it but they really sell it like it was an accident, like if you are not that influential and you are going to lie about narratives, why would I even trust you on this matter. To me it isn’t about country vs country, but people pointing out what each government has done, but each side has to blindly defend the government they are for. When the bad faith factors from all countries are going to algin in the future, like to me people will point out Bush and neocons and act like Trump didn’t have a bunch of them in his administration, and they sell you on the idea that these people hate him, so if you hate him then it means you are siding with the neocons, people think calling out Bush or ex presidents mean a thing when the same players who manufactured consent 20 years ago are doing it again with advanced steps, anyone can say they are anti war now and it doesn’t mean shit, especially when you are palling around with people who clearly advertise more war all the time. They give you shit for playing lesser of the 2 evils, to them also now doing it on a really fucked up level since they are the credible media outlets compared to the “MSM” which makes money but it is basically designed to be a punching bag for other less established sellouts who have their own propaganda they want to spew. I know my shit is kind of scattered, I have so many thoughts and theories, and again these are things I can’t prove so you don’t have to take my word for it, but once I realized the internet and alt media can now be used as a propaganda tool, like all this “anti establishment” shit would’ve sufficed 10-15 years ago, but when you are living in a reality show where the educators are dumbing down the villains and claiming they are funny, I can see the establishment aesthetics creeping in, because these people in the know are fully aware of what the world is going to develop into, more promoted villainous shit about republicans wanting to take away food stamps and medicaid, and yes that shit people should be aware of but they know it is just them promoting what it to come while they actually think the theatrical shit in congress is going to be won when the right wing always find a way to deflect, and a democrat will give into the republicans because ultimately we are going to implode and they just found filler ways to be the reason why it will keep happening. So please spare me the shit of “TYT tells it like it is and they are better than MSM” Same shit goes for Jimmy Dore, I have seen this in wrestling a lot of time, permitted anti establishment people, Steve Austin, in modern times, CM Punk, when a lot of these people are probably industry plants. Some could be used for the sake of good or evil, but I am done pretending these new characters being introduced are just some genuine characters that somehow got known, to me it is always planted from different delegations and factions. Now whoever leaked the Pentagon leaks, he will become a guinea pig of someone who will be fucked with but he will become a new character into the fold. I know I went into a million other thoughts but to be honest when I write, I tend to jot down notes so then I can talk about it in a freestyle way, so even though I am writing a blog I am trying to incorporate as much of those thoughts in here so I don’t have to jot notes about it later in private, even though people are always watching what I write regardless, but everything now is designed for culture wars, promoting Budweiser, Mario Bros, or LEGO by freaking out which celebrities from different delegations will represent for it and we start complaining about it while at the core of this shit, it is sports entertainment and product placement. “This revolution/fascism is brought to you by Mario Bros” but you think people are arguing about the Mushroom head character not having enough masculine traits. These scandals going on feel like the new resume for what is on your IMDB page, like Trump is starring in several television shows where he is being charged with crime, you can’t keep up. It is like I gave up on trying watch every show and movie because I would keep up with the internet chatter, but now that shit is even more gimmicked and everyone has their own storylines going, you got procedurals with Lil Boosie, or Meek Mill, you don’t have to follow past storylines, because most of the time their storylines are self contained episodes. People are constantly reporting on this gimmicked shit. To me the world is advanced and has always been for the longest time, but they have to gimmick how they are normalizing these robot cops to patrol the subways and the streets etc, they are making it official because the world is about to get completely fucked up and they setting the seeds for it, more rights being taken way, more normalization of anti wokeness, justifying brutalizing people in vulnerable communities, present all of it with television show and movie aesthetics and we are too busy acting like characters than actually being human. It is hard to root for anyone anymore, nothing on the surface is ever going to get solved because it is supposed to implode into bedlam, we will have shit being purposefully done like all these toxic derailments, and I will give kudos to people covering it and getting the information out there, but the rest of the time will be spent on people who are accountable and responsible denying being responsible for it while maybe Katie Porter or Bernie Sanders will give them a stern talking to, which will get some social media viral shit to cheer on for the bare minimum. Why would I want to be on this planet, so everyone can fucking thrown on an NWO shirt and do the cool entrance with Hulk Hogan, the funny thing is a lot of you want to join that side thinking it is better to be with the bad guys than being with the losers in WCW, but not all of you are gonna be Kevin Nash, or Hulk Hogan, some of you might be the Scott Halls, where you will have all the money but your psychological issues will always come into play, some of of you will become Scott Norton where you will not reach your full potential in the main stable, you might have to go to another promotion to still show how your true talent, some of you will be VK Wallstreet who will just end up being a background player until they kick you out. If you don’t understand the wrestling analogies, go seek a friend who does and he can probably break it down for you, if they aren’t already being sucked in by the worked shoot in with current stuff, they won’t want to bother explaining what the NWO comparisons could be because they are trying to get to the bottom of why Dave Meltzer and Bryan Alvarez’s motives behind putting out anti CM Punk sentiment. This blog is getting out of control, but the main purpose was because I know most people expected this from TYT, but what outrages me is that all the good work they did or people they helped out, they have been slowly throwing it away and wanted to milk as much out of the progressives before they get gigs where they are propped up and they go further right, and instead of admitting that, they are finding ways to have agreements with the shittiest people on the right and having more vitriol for activists and people who are pushing back at their motives. It is fucking sickening to see people who want to be influential, who have advanced knowledge in the system to play dumb about shit and pretend they are the ones acting in good faith, they started a shit storm for no fucking reason, and then complained about people pushing back and act like they want to focus on the important issues. I hope the money is worth it, because you guys will never be the same. Cenk is the type of dude who watched Sopranos and really thought Tony Soprano is the good guy because there might be relatable mental issues the character has that people can relate to. But the funny thing is a lot of you sellouts want to be Tony Soprano, but you end up being Christopher Moltisanti, someone being groomed to be the next big thing but you have too many issues to deal with because you have been lured into a lifestyle by other sociopaths and manipulated into doing their biddings, and the anger you will have for the people giving you marching orders you will take out on your family members and friends. Now the trolls who hate me, who have connection with people in the system, could show them this blog and they could use their power to fuck with me more and I guess that is the consequence since Cenk is positioning it like he is the one getting punched in the face, and how he doesn’t back down, I don’t take those words lightly because I recognize it in other institutional bosses in the political and entertainment world, it means they will be in a position to be protected so they can run amok on their “enemies” but it didn’t have to be this way, even in videos where it is not right wing propaganda, the comment section is full of people who you would see in Jimmy Dore’s comment section, they are clearly catering to more on the right, and since the online narrative is the right wing are the ones being victimized and censored etc, it is like fairness has been granted when most of the narratives that have existed have probably always had roots in the right wing, to the point of telling people progressive ideas are coming and people are scared because they want to go back to a world where this was not promoted so fucking heavy and it makes me question if some of the gimmicked progressive shit in the system was not always there for the purpose of people thinking the opposite being completely the edgiest of all edges and it is not supported by the system, even though people from the system are the ones promoting it all over social media and speaking engagements, while establishment liberals keep promoting them under them being dumbed down villains, which will lower the guard for how smart these people are. I have heard this old adage in showbiz that “You are no dummy making money being stupid” and look at what the world is, yeah me I am considered a wack packer in the Stern world which has always been used to discredit me, but how can I really feel discredited when everyone who is a public figure is a wack packer yourself, you might as well just have Beetle Juice and Hank the Dwarf argue on the congress floor, because that is what most of these politicians and public figures in general have become. It has never been more obvious and people continuing into wanting to buy into this shit is just wasting everyone’s time because there is serious shit on the horizon and we continuously have to present everything under comedy, like is there not enough comedy for you people out there, what does it really mean when everything is entrenched in comedy. It doesn’t even feel like the laughs for this shit is even genuine anymore, the entertainment has become more worthless and useless to me. And this is what seeps into politics when the world is near doom and bad faith actors are pretending to warn about it while they will be the perpetrators in this whole thing to gain the power they so desperately need to turn this world into complete fundamentalist bullshit. The far right can keep normalizing the shit they normalized but if people don’t protest the fascism properly then they get chastised more than the normalization because shitty platforms like TYT give you the impression that the fight can be happen with the ideas presented in congress etc when they probably know the world is going to implode and not everyone has people looking after them, so people need to be in self defense mode from this shit. More people are gonna continue to get harmed from this rhetoric and no one with these big platforms ever have any real motivational shit to get people mentally prepared for what it to come but people who are far right can have their people enacted and go on the offense while pretending to play the defense so they don’t seem like monsters for the shit they are advocating for. I don’t know what the solutions are, I never wanted to be alive for the longest time, and I really don’t want to see this shit play out the way the people in charge want it played out. What hope is there? I am beyond escaping through entertainment, when the entertainment itself is a reminder of where the world is going as well and all the bullshit attached to it. Again I have to put disclaimers that I am not dangerous, I don’t have any weapons, I am being monitored most likely so the ones doing it can confirm, because anything you say about the system and its players, they will try do some shit to smear you at the behest of other powerful people who are getting angry I put this out but the only saving grace is most of the masses won’t know this blog exists, but just the mere fact that I am presenting it with the idea that I can’t confirm every single thing and I am being a little conspiratorial, does anger people and you bet they have people keeping an eye out on whatever I do, they probably monitor everyone and keep a dossier on them, figuring out how they could use them to be a patsy for some shit to further their agendas. The real ones know my true nature and what kind of propaganda I had to beat that was taking me over at times, they know I am not this violent dangerous person. But they will try to paint me as that, since that is what my trolls have notoriously done that if you look up my name, you see those negative stories, and to me that was designed that if Stern ever gets exposed for the shit he did to me, people looking up my name will see this false photoshop of me beating up people and labeled under “Hanzi beat up a gay couple at wild wings” they haven’t done this in a while but just having that in the public sphere, and anyone who has resources can check my background and see if I have been arrested, powerful people have dossiers on everyone. But there is a reason why my blogs and podcasts and tweets are not boosted up at all and it probably still makes them mad that I am putting effort into putting out podcasts, blogs and trying to be creative, because I am supposed to feel less than since I am not supposed to be boosted up on any level. People having their echochamber of celebratory shit can only be the ones to be propped up but even they are not fully happy because they don’t know if people genuinely find them funny or is it for quid pro quo “I’ll socially put you over but you have to laugh the shit I say”. If I do die, this shit will be out there to live on for people to read after the fact. Maybe in a next life or some shit it will be better since this timeline won’t seem to get better for me because of how the world will play out.

#Hanzi 2023 Howard Stern Mental Illness TYT Young Turks Ana Kasparian Cenk #Post Left Leftist alt media sports entertainment characters villains heroes

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incarnateirony · 1 year

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you've got such confidence that everybody ever daring to criticize you is in some secret cult based around your destruction or something. you are wrong sometimes, so what, everyone is! writing paragraphs upon paragraphs "owning" your hater's and wanting to quote "rip their face and nuts off, kick them, then throw them in an acid container so nobody can find the body" makes you look like a weirdo, not someone capable of taking criticism and grow from it.

...No secret cult, just common sense when I catch you guys bitching on twitter in the middle of my anon storm. And the fact that you can't communicate like normal human beings for shit, and are so unplugged you think you can use words like "mistress" while pretending to not be from Over There. Bruh. They're the only ones that use that dialogue. I literally scrolled like a week of a muted cockles channel to find this since you guys went absolutely useless and hid when you realized I was HAPPY to think it was her. So I found it myself and was honestly disappointed. Guess what? Not a single cockles person uses that FUCKING term.

You. Can't. Communicate. Like. Normal. Human. Beings. Anymore. Even if you think you are, you're not. And you're too socially dysfunctional to understand why you're like HOW DO YOU DO FELLOW HELLERS whenever you try.

Again. I put in my post, and listed things I've been wrong about, and when I responded to them then. I also admitted I was wrong about a vague yeah i put on some random anon about who someone might be because it's an area I don't care about because I DONT FUCKING SHIP AND IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH TV OR LEAKS? I also very clearly highlighted the difference between leaks and memes, because that's confused you.

Not times I've had a human margin of error in day to day life.

LEAKS, MOTHERFUCKER. TELL ME ONE I GOT WRONG, THAT ISNT A VAGUE CLAIM OR A LIE YOU'RE PARROTING FROM 2pO'S CULT. No, you don't have to be IN the cult to be dumb enough to parrot it either, that's not what I'm saying. NOT SHITPOSTS. NOT. I DUNNO. SEEING THE WRONG CONSTELLATION IN THE SKY SOME DAY.

LEAKS, MOTHERFUCKER. SPEAK CLEARLY. WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN WRONG.

LEAKS DONT COME BY PROXY OF GIDDY FAN REACTIONS. LEAKS COME BY WAY OF TANGIBLE PROOF OR DIRECT DISCUSSION WITH CREATIVES AND MULTIPLE TIERS OF CONFIRMATION BEFORE I EVER PEEP A FUCKIN WORD. (with exception to minor caveats I give specifically, such as the capacity limit of a current source or the ability for something to slip through which. GASP. ADMITS MARGIN OF ERROR EVEN IN LEAKS FROM GOOD SOURCES.)

LEAKS. WHAT. HAVE. I. GOTTEN. WRONG. STOP VAGUEBLOGGING. YOU KEEP SAYING IT. FIND ONE.

(Oh, and don't hope for Margin Of Error to save you on Deancas. I can promise you, it won't here.)

I'd give you a half point if you were smart enough to say "you got the episode filming numbers mixed up" (which, by the way, I admitted and corrected), which also has nothing to do with the leaks, because grabbing bulked out footage and trying to mentally attach them to filming days is, yet again, NOT THE SAME AS FUCKING LEAKS. I already CLARIFIED earlier the divisions on sources and where shit is from. Like yeah, 90% of those vids are from insta, 10% good luck chucklefuck try to find it. That 90% I try to plug in by filming and don't get a clapboard for every. Sometimes you skew a couple of days. OH LOOK THERE! HUMAN ERROR ON SOMETHING I ADMITTED AGAIN. Just. Not actually leaks (spare for that 10% or so). As much as. Trying to find the shape the leaks I have are taking visually, which is an entirely different thing you guys also suck bad at.

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simonalkenmayer · 3 years

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This Halloween marks the ten year anniversary of the day I began the experiment. It’s evolved a great deal, and this third iteration has proven the most useful, but truth be told, I’ve seen all I care to see.

Do you want to know a behavior you won’t see of me? I don’t go to other people’s blogs and leave hateful asks. In fact I haven’t ever used the anonymous feature even once. Do you want to know what else I won’t do? Air my grievances with people publicly before I take it up with them privately. Because it is basic decency to withstand the discomfort of confrontation in order to make certain you’ve heard everyone’s perception of events. What else do I not do? Read people’s blogs to nitpick or misrepresent what they say. I won’t correct spelling or grammar unless there’s some running joke. I don’t even follow a blog back unless invited to. I don’t seek out people. I don’t respond to anything but things said of me, specifically in order to generate conversation and keep this place one of discussion.

What do I do? Answer questions, share things I find interesting, make the odd joke, create a forum for bee and capybara lovers to sit and share. I speak out on social justice issues, keep people mindful of current events that will impact them or their loved ones. I share things I learn about the world. I tell people to be kind. I reblog pleas for financial help. I try to inform others how to escape abusive relationships and groups. I post music and art and food. My blog isn’t for me. It’s meant to be a place of discussion and community. It’s always been this way, from the beginning, and yet, somehow, because of the simple question “I am a monster and I eat people. Do you believe me?” my blog has become, of the last two years, a showcase for people using me as the fodder for their fetishistic enjoyment of making others suffer as much as they can.

The subterfuge they go through to make it happen is astonishing. Ive been sexulaized, stalked, sent all sorts of poisonous substances and dead things, been called every name you can think of, and accused of all manner of crimes, and yet have never once done anything I was accused of doing. I’ve watched people desperately try to solve the mystery, and become downright outraged when they can’t. I’ve seen people construct huge conspiracies and lies about my supposed identity, manufacturing evidence or just claiming they have the answer, in order to become some sort of what? Bully cult figurehead? Now there’s entire essays about how I dare defend myself from lies. Imagine the audacity of someone saying “roll over and take it just because I feel like giving it, and if you argue, you’re obviously a bad person”. I’ve even had a hate blog made about me for giving accurate and beneficial student loan information to a high school senior. I’ve seen people claim to have relationships with me, take their ire out on the people assisting me. I’ve even seen those people accused of heinous things. I’ve gone to a great many lengths to conceal myself from all of you, as I’ve said dozens of times, but it never fails that someone thinks they know the answer and wastes their time reveling in how completely immature and vindictive they can be without ever actually engaging with the sticky truth at the core of this.

I’ve been predicting it, waiting to see how long it would take for the behavior to reach a kind of critical abusive mass. But whatever it teaches me, it ought to at least educate you on the precise reason why I bothered to come here and do this in the first place, and why I was uniquely qualified. My qualifications include not giving a fuck what people think of me, and taking the time to learn what I could. They include wanting to shake you until you see what you’re doing and recognize your own toxic behaviors.

God damnit people. Learn for heaven’s sake. It amazes me you don’t have a better grasp of your own psychology. No wonder people from marginalized groups leave internet spaces. No wonder people commit suicide or harm others. No wonder the foreign fascist powers of this world have such an easy time manipulating your actions and ideas. No wonder you allow algorithms to polarize and indoctrinate you into extremism. There is almost no self-awareness anymore, no analysis, rampant narcissism. What are you doing to yourselves? Why?

What profit or joy does this weak-minded behavior give you?

#this one actually is a rant #because i am downright furious with your entire species

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littlesystems · 5 years

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For the people who are out there “fighting the good fight” and “trying to make fandom a better place,” I have two important questions for you:

1. Is the author dead? x

2. Is your baby in the bathwater? x

What do I mean by those things? Let’s start with #1. The Death of the Author is a type of literary criticism, the extreme cliff notes version of which is that art exists outside of the creator’s life, personal background, and even intentions. I’m using it slightly differently than Barthes intended, but that’s okay, because the author is dead and I’m interpreting his work through my own lens.

In fandom, the author is dead. In fact, the author was never alive in the first place, not really. The author has only ever been the idea of a person, because unlike published fiction, the only thing we know about a fanfic author is that which they choose to tell us about themselves.

Why is that important?

Because it might not be true. Hell, that happens in real life with published authors, who have SSN’s on file with their publishers, who pay taxes on the works they create and have researchable pasts. If the author of A Million Little Pieces could fake everything, why can’t I? Why can’t you? Why can’t the writer of your favorite fic in the whole wide world?

Stop me if you’ve heard this before: “you can only write about [sensitive subject] if [sensitive subject] has happened to you personally, otherwise you’re a disgusting monster that deserves to die!!” Or maybe “you can only write [x racial or ethnic group] characters if you’re [x racial or ethnic group] otherwise you’re racist/fetishizing/colonizing!”

You can play this game with any sensitive subject you can come up with. I’ve seen them all before, on a sliding scale of slightly chastising to literal death threats.

Now, I could tell you that I’m a white-passing Latina whose grandmother was an anchor baby. I could tell you that I speak only English because my family never taught me to speak Spanish, something which I’ve been told is common in the Cuban community, though I only know my own lived experience. I could tell you that I’m mostly neurotypical. I could tell you that I’m covered in surgical scars. I could tell you lots of things.

Are any of these true? Maybe! I could tell you that my brother has severe mental development problems, so uncommon that they’ve never been properly diagnosed, and that he will live the rest of his life in a group home with 24-hour care. Is that true? Am I allowed to write about families struggling with America’s piss-poor services for the handicapped now?

Am I allowed to write about being Cuban? After all, I did just say that I’m Cuban. But is it true? Can I instead write a character that’s Panamanian? Maybe I really am Panamanian, not Cuban. Maybe I’m both. Maybe I’m neither. Maybe I’m really French Canadian. Should we require people to post regular selfies? I can’t count the number of times I’ve had someone come up to me speaking Arabic, and I’ve been told that I look Syrian. What’s stopping me from making a blog that claims that I am Syrian? Can you even really tell someone’s race and ethnicity from a photo?

Am I allowed to write about being a teenager? Am I allowed to write about being a college student? Am I allowed to write about being an “adulty” adult? Can I write a character who’s 40? 50? 60? How old am I?

All of this is to say: you can’t base what someone is or is not “allowed” to write about on a background that may or may not be real. No matter how good your intentions. And I get it - this usually comes from a place of well-meaning. You’re trying to protect marginalized groups by stopping privileged people from trampling all over experiences that they haven’t suffered. I get that. It’s a very noble thought. But you can’t require a background check for every fic that you don’t like.

If you say “you can only write about rape if you’re a rape victim,” then one of three things will happen:

Real survivors will have to supply intimate details of their own violations to prevent harassment

Real survivors will refuse to engage and will then have to deal with death threats and people telling them to kill themselves for daring to write about their own experiences

People who aren’t survivors will say “yeah sure this happened to me” just to get people to shut up

Has that helped anyone? I mean really - anyone??

So now let’s get to point #2: is your baby in the bathwater?

If your intention is to protect marginalized people from being trampled upon, stop and assess if your boot is the one that’s now stamping on their face. Find your baby! Is your baby in the bathwater? Which is to say: find the goal that you’re advocating for. Now assess. Are you making the problem worse for the people you’re trying to protect? Does that rape victim really feel better, now that you’ve harassed and stalked them in the name of making rape victims feel safe?

Let’s say you read a fic that contains explicit sex between a 16 year old and a 17 year old. Is this okay? Would it be okay if the writer was 15? 16? 17? Should teenagers be barred from writing about their own lives, and should teenagers be banned from exploring sexuality in a fictional bubble, instead of hookup culture? Is it okay for a 20 year old to write about their experiences as a teenager? Is it okay for a 20 year old to write about being raped at a party as a teenager? Is it okay for a 30 year old? How about a 40 year old? Is it okay so long as it isn’t titillating? Is it okay if taking control of the narrative allows the writer to re-conceptualize their trauma as something they have control over? Is it okay if their therapist told them that writing is a safe creative outlet?

Is your author dead?

Is your baby in the bathwater?

Now let’s take a hardline approach: no fanfiction with characters who are under 18 years old. None. Is the 16 year old who really loves Harry Potter and wants to read/write about characters their own age better off? Should they be banned from writing? Should they be forced to exclusively read and write (adult) experiences that they haven’t lived? Will they write about teens anyway? Should they have to share it in secret? Should 16 year olds be ashamed of themselves? Should we just throw in with the evangelicals and say that the only answer is abstinence, both real and fictional?

Let’s say that no rape is allowed in fiction, at all. None. What happens to all the hurt/comfort fics where a character is raped and then receives the support and love that they deserve, slowly heal, and by the end have found themselves again? Are you helping rape victims by banning these stories? Are you helping rape victims by stripping their agency away, by telling them that their wants and their consent doesn’t matter?

Is your baby in the bathwater?

Fandom is currently being split in two: on one side, the people who want to make fandom a “safer” place by any means necessary, even if that means throwing out all of the marginalized groups they say they want to protect - and on the other, people who are saying “if you throw out that bathwater, you’re throwing the baby out too.”

The whole point of fandom is to be able to explore all kinds of ideas from the safety and comfort of a computer screen. You can read/write things that fascinate you, disgust you, titillate you, or make your heart feel warm. This is true of all fiction. People who want to read about rape and incest and extreme violence and torture can go pick up a copy of Game of Thrones from the bookstore whenever they want. Sanitizing fandom just means holding a community of people who are primarily not male, not straight, not cis, or some combination of those three, to higher and stricter standards than straight white cis male authors and creators all over the world.

There is nothing you can find on AO3 that you can’t find in a bookstore. Any teenager can go check out Lolita, or ASOIAF, or Flowers in the Attic, or Stephen King's It, or Speak, or hundreds of other books that have adult themes or gratuitous violence or graphic sex. The difference is that AO3 has warnings and tags and allows people to interact only with the types of work that they want to, and allows people to curate their experiences.

Are these themes eligible to be explored, but only in the setting of something produced/published? Books, movies, television, studio art, music - all of these fields have huge barriers to entry, and they’re largely controlled by wealthy cishet white men. Is it better to say that only those who have the right connections to “make it” in these industries should be allowed to explore violence or sexuality or any other so-called “adult” theme?

Does banning women from writing MLM erotica make fan culture a better place?

Does banning queer people from writing about queer experiences make fan culture a better place?

Is M/M fic okay, but only if the author is male? What if he’s a trans man? What if they’re NB? Who should get to draw those lines? Should TERFs get a vote? What if the author is a woman who feels more comfortable writing from a male character’s perspective because she’s grown up with male stories her whole life, or because she identifies more with male characters? What about all the trans men who discovered themselves, in part, by writing fanfiction, and realized that their desires to write male characters stemmed from something they hadn’t yet realized about themselves?

How can we ever be sure that the author is who they say they are?

Who is allowed to write these stories? How do we enforce it?

Is it better for none of these stories to ever exist at all?

Have you killed your author?

Have you thrown out your baby with the bathwater?

#the discourse

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comrade-meow · 3 years

Link

Capitalism, the New, New Left and the Gender Industry

“Inclusivity is more than a social cause, it’s a business opportunity. It’s time to maximize your business growth.”

- dmi Consulting

Let me get this out of the way, because it seems more than a few people still need to hear this.

CORPORATIONS DO NOT CARE ABOUT YOU!

“Diversity and inclusion ”(D&I) comprise a new business mantra. Programs and language, based on the normalization of body dissociation, are being corporately cultivated, around the world. The programs being instituted appeal to our emotions, to entice us to believe that companies care about people and just want to create one big happy, diverse, work-family, which include marginalized sectors of society - most importantly, those who imagine they have a sex (gender is a euphemism) that is not male or female. The overlooked are finally being given a place at the table!

Or are they?

The new, new liberal left in America, the left that has emerged out of a traditional new left, which cared about the working class, blacks and women’s rights, who yearned for a more equal and just social order, is unrecognizable to many of us who’ve long been of the traditional left. That left, just a decade ago, sparked a potentially revolutionary movement on Wall street, calling out the financial industry and the monopolies ruining our lives and our planet. Emerging out of the carcass of that potentially revolutionary movement, is a left that has recently climbed into bed with those same big banks. Snuggled up in bed with them, fluffing their pillows, are Big Pharma and Big Tech. The left, are running around screaming at protests, get wide media coverage, voices in our universities and institutions, crying that people claiming their sex is not male or female, need human rights. These manufactured sexes are being supported by, promoted by, and advertised by Big Pharma, Big Tech and Big Banking. This new, unrecognizable left sees no irony at all in their behavior.

These purported new sexes, ostensibly requiring special human rights, depend on a narrative that sexual dimorphism isn’t real, that it exists on a spectrum of sexes. This is the gender industry and with projected profit margins reaching into the billions by 2026, for surgeries on healthy sex organs alone, and the amount of advertising curated to sell it, it is going to be very profitable indeed.

How has the left been so duped about new markets being manifested out of sex, that they scream liberation every time someone dares to mention the glaring inconsistency of human rights for corporate profiteering off of young adults and children’s bodies?

The left knows corporations do not care about the color of our skin, whether we are oppressed because of said color of our skin, whether we live in an igloo or a cardboard box, whether the icebergs are melting, or whether Fukushima nuclear plant is dumping millions of tons of radioactive waste into the oceans, externalizing the cost of doing business. How do they not understand that corporations do not give a fu*k about anybody’s identity? Unless those identities are opening markets.

The constant business-woke-posing (D&I), for Black Lives Matter (BLM), the LGBT Inc, and the often, corporate mixing of both under the “Black Trans Lives Matter” slogan, is about profit. Every little advertising slogan, every word, is carefully selected to appeal to an ever-increasing fragmentation of humanity, into subcategories, to be marketed to. It is all about the corporate bottom line. If they can convince us that the disembodiment movement of “gender identity” is akin to the civil rights movement for black Americans, or has anything at all to do with LGB, they’ve roped us into their narrative of care. Further, if they can convince more black Americans of their insane narrative of disembodiment-as-progress, it supports the illusion they are selling to all of us. Fortunately, that isn’t going well, so far. Despite their efforts to corral black youth, and the relentless corporate propaganda aimed at them, black youth are not crying about their “gender identities” or clamoring for cross sex hormones.

The left knows corporations don’t care. The working class knows this. It’s why the Occupy Wall Street movement evolved so quickly. I was there, a decade ago, at ground zero, with 40,000 people from every walk of life, as we traversed the Brooklyn Bridge, in protest of the choke hold the financial sector had on us. Now these same people are waving flags in traditional, baby-colored, pink, blue and white, screaming about human emancipation through medical identities, while many sew themselves to the techno-medical complex for life.

For a concise and readily comprehensible explanation of how capitalism functions, I urge you to examine the work of Stephanie McMillan, a life-long activist and an anti-capitalist. She explains, in language that is completely accessible, how corporations are set up to compete in the global marketplace: “To care about people over profits would jeopardize the corporatist’s position within that system, and their own livelihood.” Corporate heads, consist of those with the greatest wealth and depend on an exploited working class not just to function, but to suck wealth upward, from the bottom, creating ever more wealth for a few, leaving the masses at the bottom, with less and less. This is a worse crisis for women across the world, who, according to UN stats, put in 12.5 billion hours of unpaid care work each day — a contribution to the global economy of at least $10.8 trillion a year. The reporting of these statistics will no longer be a true measure of what is transpiring globally, since men will be included in the stats for women, under the new corporate gender regime.

We are living in an oligarchic gulag, one that isn’t very private. Our communities, as I addressed in an interview last year, are being opened to the acceptance and normalization of a male fetish based on disembodiment, creating a sexual psycho drama of our corporate and civil landscapes, for profit, while literally dismembering people and creating more identities to market to.

Because we are governed by corporate monopolies, and the billionaires behind them, driving a steady stream of propaganda through our media, we no longer know what fake news is and what is real news. We don’t know what men and women are (or we pretend not to know to fit in). We don’t know if people on social media or advertising are real or computer generated and our ability to speak about anything outside the corporately generated illusions plaguing us, are being penalized in myriad ways, not the least of which is controlled and censored speech. Yet suddenly, we are to believe, and many on the new, new liberal left do believe, these monstrous monopolies that have colonized the entire natural world, have suddenly changed their ways and care about people. They especially care about these new imaginary sexes being manufactured out of philanthropic funding, corporate cash, and the techno-medical complex.

Will Meyer, in a recent issue of Business Insider, gives us a look at the corporate woke hypocrisy, posing as care about the marginalized. “IBM and Microsoft,” he reports, “claimed they would no longer sell facial recognition software to law enforcement, signaling their alignment with Soros backed, BLM movement, despite the fact both corporations remaining deeply invested in punitive systems that continue to harm Black and brown lives.” The BLM movement has the same capitalists behind it as the gender industry.

Selling D&I to the public, is such big business, that there are corporations that teach other companies how to market it effectively. This fracturing of humanity, via the colonization of human sex, is how capitalism functions. It splits everything into smaller and smaller fragments to open markets. Where we once had a single-family physician to help us heal, we now have a plethora of specialists to treat everything from lung cancer to toenail fungus. Where we have had a sexually dimorphic species, we now have medical identities that deconstruct sex, being foisted upon us, to open markets.

Those with wealth create more wealth for themselves, while underlings, not having access to wealth, land or goods, are forced to sell their labor for less and less money. The wealth, goods and land are all siphoned off by the corporatists. Well now the corporatists, with little left to extract, have come for human sex and they are not leaving until they have it, or we rise in resistance and reclaim what is left after their ravaging.

#Anglo.txt

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wizlaartsgallery · 3 years

Text

Exploring Reggae Music for Social Change

Recognizing music as a tool for educating people in society and its social relevance is what I will be discussing in this proposal. I will be exploring reggae music and its significance to the people of Africa in the socio-economic and political context. According to Chude-Sokei (2011, Pp. 78) “Reggae has been Africa’s most powerful musical advocate.” Historically, I will be drawing on the works of reggae artists such as Alpha Blondy and Lucky Dube to explore the impact of reggae music concerning the everyday social life of Africans. The practical research methodology I will employ in this inquiry will address issues such as educating the people through music to understand the need for democracy, equality, participation, collectivity, and performance to influence social justice. From this starting point, I suggest it is helpful to explore more in detail to analyse how reggae music can impact on social change.

The fundamental concern of my proposal is to demonstrate through my practical research project that reggae music can be used as a tool for education and social change, and not be seen as a piece of ordinary music. In short, it is maintained, arts and music can be used to change society and individuals for the better through education (Hanne and Varkøy (2020). In a broader sense of knowledge, music is a powerful tool in transforming lives and changing society through the artist engagement with the audience. Music supports the equitable outer truth of nature and social order and impact perception of reality (ION, 2011, Pp.219). Arguably, reggae music can ignite our inner thoughts to influence our emotions and actions concerning how policy and decision making processes by the government can impact social justice and socio-economic welfare.

The cultural and political influence of the root reggae genre is in no doubt immense contribution to my work as I propose to address key issues of political concern in Nigeria. My operating assumption is to use music as a means of education and advocacy to address socio-political concerns in the country. Reggae Artists explored socio-political issues that nobody dared to talk about previously in their song publicly: As noted, Alpha Blondy condemned police violence against apparent juvenile hoodlum in his song ‘Brigadier sabari’ (Pardon brigadier) during 1983 (Anne Schumann, 2015, Pp.343). My developing principles, therefore, are based on inspiration. Inspiration often provides the compelling strength to make the art captivating (Weintraub, 2003, Pp.123). Hence, my inspiration is drawn from artists such as Lucky Dube, Aplha Blondy and my drive for social change through empathy, and equality.

On the night of 14 April 2014, 276 young Christian girls were kidnapped in Nigeria. The 276 kidnapped schoolgirls from Chibok in 2014 are some of the thousands of people ‘Boko Haram’ had abducted over the years (The Guardian, 2017). The government in response to the issue claimed Boko Haram is an Islamic terrorist group. However, I hold a different opinion concerning these happenings in my work. For example, I stresses that, we want peace in Nigeria, is peace in the universe, and ‘Babylon’ shall not rise again with the gun, ‘Boko Haram’ shall not rise again with the gun. An equal share of the petroleum money will save our children, an equal share of the national cake, Lord, will save our girls. Distress for Citizens as suggested by ‘Lucky Dube’ is the usual folk that endure the poverty brought about by unproductive and corrupt governments. This is the coloration in Lucky Dube’s work in this study (Onyebadi, 2018, Pp. 13)

Addressing these socio-political issues, considering the concept of ethnocultural empathy will assist the government in recognizing the elements of social exclusion and emphasize them as a major threat to the socio-economic development of the nation. Rennalls (2020) defines that “This is the ability to take the perspective and share the feelings of a person from a different ethnic group and to communicate these shared experiences to them.” This is relevant considering the fact that a huge percentage of despute in Nigeria are rooted in ethnicity and religion (Adebayo, 2016, Pp. 373). Under these social circumstances, the effectiveness of ethnocultural empathy becomes a key component in promoting peace in the nation before any ethnic and religious affiliations.

Moreover, it’s significant to understand that, engaging my audience with an educative reggae sound piece accompanied by a music video will enhance advocacy on socio-political crisis whilst providing a friendly environment for entertainment. Notably, music can build friendships and peace where mistrust, misunderstanding, anger existed previously. Music provides people a sense of unification and togetherness (Pierce, 2015). Therefore, the playfulness that comes with entertainment is an added value to my work as the government, and individuals by listening to my music might find their sense of national solidarity and iron their differences to promote democracy, equality, social justice, peace and togetherness. Playfulness requires listening to the music and people deep (Strand, 2016).

In some contexts, the humanistic approach to economic intervention perspectives advocated for in my music might reach a vast majority of the audience and people in government to influence them to empathized and provide care and support for the vulnerable and marginalized Islamic population to redress the systematic and socio-economic inequalities in the country. In his song ‘The Hand that Giveth’ (1989), Lucky Dube explored the biblical command concerning caring for the needy to condemn the rich and influential for their rampant hypocrisy in grabbing from the poor instead of giving back to society (Onyebadi, 2018, Pp. 15). It is vital to note that this holistic approach from the Bible focuses on the core interests of giving to the poor as well as empathizing with the needy. These assertions by Lucky Dube (1989) support the early claim by Rennalls (2020) concerning the use of the ethnocultural empathy perspective.

In conclusion, the approach adopted and advocated for in this proposal is ultimately social justice in character as it fundamentally revolves around discussing the social and economic activities carried out by the government concerning its people. My reggae music and its accompanying video content tie violent crime such as kidnapping by Boko Haram to religious discrimination and socio-economic deprivation of marginalized Islamic youth by a predominately Christian government administration in Nigeria. Additionally, discussing issues related to discrimination and the government's interference in the delivery of social justice can be very challenging in Africa as it positions the artists against the politicians. However, considering my position as human rights and social justice activist, it will be rewarding to know that my music can contribute to effective social change. Arguably, reggae music plays an important role in changing society. You can discuss complex political issues in reggae music without hurting people to affect social change.

Word Count: 1,133

List of References

Rinholm, Hanne, and Øivind Varkøy. “MUSIC EDUCATION FOR THE COMMON GOOD?: BETWEEN HUBRIS AND RESIGNATION: A Call for Temperance.” Humane Music Education for the Common Good, edited by Iris M. Yob and Estelle R. Jorgensen, Indiana University Press, Bloomington, Indiana, 2020, pp. 40–53. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctvxcrxmm.6. Accessed 18 Nov. 2020.

OLTEŢEANU, ION. “THE FORMATIVE FUNCTION OF MUSICAL INTERACTIONS WITHIN SOCIAL IDENTITY.” Geopolitics, History, and International Relations, vol. 3, no. 1, 2011, pp. 215–220. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/26804857. Accessed 18 Nov. 2020.

Chude-Sokei, Louis. “When Echoes Return.” Transition, no. 104, 2011, pp. 76–92. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/10.2979/transition.2011.-.104.76. Accessed 18 Nov. 2020.

Weintraub, L. (2003) “Making contemporary art; how contemporary artists think and work (Sourcing Inspiration)” Thames & Hudson, London. Available at: file:///C:/Users/USER/Downloads/ED53022B-Weintraub_Linda-Making_contemporary_art_how_conltemporary_artists_think_and_work-Sourcing_Inspiration-pp122-124%20(2).pdf. (Accessed: 2nd December 2020)

Kulungu, Mustapha. “Does Boko Haram Pose a Threat to the US?” Counter Terrorist Trends and Analyses, vol. 11, no. 2, 2019. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/26627975. Accessed 7 Dec. 2020.

Rennalls, S. (2020) Creativity can help to heal Britain's divided society. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/nov/15/creativity-can-help-to-heal-britains-divided-society?CMP=Share_iOSApp_Other (Accessed: 7th December 2020).

The Guardian (2017) Boko Haram releases dozens of Chibok schoolgirls, say Nigerian officials. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/may/06/boko-haram-releases-dozens-of-kidnapped-chibok-schoolgirls (Accessed: 7th December 2020)

Schumann, Anne. “Music at War: Reggae Musicians as Political Actors in the Ivoirian Crisis.” Journal of African Cultural Studies, vol. 27, no. 3, 2015, pp. 342–355. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/24758685. ( Accessed 14 Nov. 2020).

oseph Olusegun Adebayo (2016) The Impact of Peace Journalism Training

on Journalists’ Reportage of the 2015 Elections in Nigeria: An Action Research Case Study, Communicatio, 42:3, 361-377, DOI: 10.1080/02500167.2016.1216458 http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/02500167.2016.1216458

Pierce, Deborah L. “Redefining Music Appreciation: Exploring the Power of Music.” College Music Symposium, vol. 55, 2015. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/26574401. Accessed 17 Nov. 2020.

Onyebadi, U. (2018) Political Messages in African Music: Assessing Fela

Anikulapo-Kuti, Lucky Dube and Alpha Blondy. Available at:

https://www.mdpi.com/2076-0787/7/4/129/htm# (Accessed: 8th December 2020)

Strand, Katherine. “The Infinite Game: Part Two.” Music Educators Journal, vol. 103, no. 2, 2016, pp. 15–16. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/44678222. Accessed 27 Nov. 2020.

Ford, T. (2018) Ellen Johnson Sirleaf: The legacy of Africa's first elected female president. Available at: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-42748769 (Accessed: 20th December 2020)

Jose Romero Lopez (No Date) Alpha Blondy. Available at: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/Reggaeoneness/alpha-blondy/ (Accessed: 28th December 2020)

Reggae Ville (No Date) LUCKY DUBE. Available at: https://www.reggaeville.com/artist-details/lucky-dube/videos/video/lucky-dube-rototom-sunsplash-2005-full-show/ (Accessed: 28th December 2020)

Benjamin Hillion (2019) Lucky Dube. Available at: https://www.quora.com/Who-was-the-first-to-start-music-between-Lucky-Dube-and-Bob-Marley (Accessed: 28th December 2019)

By: Albert Apiw (7th December 2021)

Critical Arts Practice in Education

Goldsmiths University of London (Year 3)

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all-things-are-nothing-to-me · 4 years

Text

OK Bookchin

There is perhaps no modern thinker who has done more to damage the term “anarchism” than Murray Bookchin. Beyond all the physical repression over the centuries, by both capitalists and communists, the right and the left, Bookchin’s piece “Social Anarchism or Lifestyle Anarchism: An Unbridgeable Chasm” stands as the most notable instance of ideological sabotage against anarchism.

Even the title of the piece is a lie. The only reason this “chasm” exists, is because Bookchin and his followers have been harping about it for the last 20 years. Additionally, individualist and social anarchism share a long history of tolerating each other, if not working together. Bookchin conveniently ignores that fact that many individualist anarchists were members of the First International, right alongside social anarchists, and even Marxists. There may have been tension between these groups, but there was no chasm, as there was no chasm until Bookchin created one.

Bookchin starts by going through the history of individualist anarchism, making sure to label them as terrorists pretty quickly out of the gates.

“individualistic anarchists committed acts of terrorism that gave anarchism its reputation as a violently sinister conspiracy.”

This is patently false, as shown in the work “The Anarchist Beast” by Nhat Hong. If Bookchin knew what he was talking about, he would have known that the drive to label anarchists as terrorists was going strong since likely before the 1880s. Yes, some individualist anarchists were terrorists, but anarchism had largely been stuck with that label already. The deeds of terrorists are not what established the label, it was the fear of those in power, and their need to discredit anarchism.

“Despite their avowals of an anarchocommunist ideology, Nietzscheans like Emma Goldman remained cheek to jowl in spirit with individualists. “

Here, we see Bookchin using Nietzsche like his name is some type of slur, in addition to using him to discredit Emma Goldman. Goldman did far more to advance anarchy in this world than Bookchin ever did, and often did it side by side with more social leaning anarchists. Where is the chasm then? Of course Bookchin wants to dismiss Goldman away, as her very life disproves his thesis here.

“The period hardly allowed individualists, in the name of their ‘uniqueness,’ to ignore the need for energetic revolutionary forms of organization with coherent and compelling programs.”

Moving past the 1800s and early 1900s, Bookchin moves on in time, suggesting that social anarchists in the period past that had “compelling programs.” What were these programs exactly? Allying with the Stalinist red fascism in Spain and getting murdered? While individualist anarchists may have been focused on smaller scale actions, the larger scale actions of the social anarchists of the 1930s ended quite literally, in fascism. I would hardly call that compelling or coherent.

“These trendy posturings, nearly all of which follow current yuppie fashions…”

It is at around this point in the piece that Bookchin abandons his delusional version of history, and moves on to mere ad hominem attacks and mere complaining. Bookchin is the last person who should be complaining about anything fashion related! Look at his hat! Bookchin constantly looks like how he thinks a worker should look like, and could absolutely deal with some sense of fashion other than his self-styled “assembly line chic”.

“the 1990s are awash in self-styled anarchists who — their flamboyant radical rhetoric aside — are cultivating a latter-day anarcho-individualism that I will call lifestyle anarchism. Its preoccupations with the ego and its uniqueness and its polymorphous concepts of resistance are steadily eroding the socialistic character of the libertarian tradition.”

Here, Bookchin attempts to coin individualist anarchism as something he created, a “lifestyle anarchism”, if you will. He claims lifestyle anarchism erodes the socialistic character of anarchism? So be it! The socialistic tradition in anarchism is what has led historically to anarchists buddying up to, and later being murdered by, socialists and communists. If erosion of this socialistic character is what it takes for anarchists to stop thinking that leftist traditions have their best interests at heart…Erode away!

“The ego — more precisely, its incarnation in various lifestyles — has become an idée fixe for many post-1960s anarchists, who are losing contact with the need for an organized, collectivistic, programmatic opposition to the existing social order.”

What Bookchin does not realize, is that this type of collectivist, programmatic “opposition” has become ingrained in the social order itself. Mass politics, with its programs for social change, has become part of the status quo. The system itself would much rather have people mimicking its structures and playing within its rules, as opposed to the infinitely diverse forms of resistance available to all individuals at any moment. The state understands how to deal with the same dogmatic resistance it has faced for centuries. It is not prepared for outbursts of individuality, fluid and innumerable in their scope.

“Lifestyle, like individualist, anarchism bears a disdain for theory,”

Yes! We do! We disdain those who fetishize thought, while cowering from action. Unlike Bookchin, who spent his life writing dozens of books, and many more pieces outside of them, the individualists see the world as their parchment upon which to write. Action is worth more than a million words, and also the most effective way to breed more action. People have been theorizing about the same things for centuries now, to little effect. It has been those who commit themselves to enacting theory, rather than steeping themselves in it, who have made the strongest stands against rulership.

“The price that anarchism will pay if it permits this swill to displace the libertarian ideals of an earlier period could be enormous.”

And here is where we see that Bookchin is not interested so much in opposing rulership, as he is using anarchism as a method of control. As evidenced above, Bookchin cares more about anarchism as a static ideology, than as a fluid attempt by people to not be ruled. He is concerned with anarchism as a monolithic entity, because as a singular and dogmatic ideology, anarchism becomes another box in which to contain people’s ideas, and thereby control people’s actions.

“Thus, instead of disclosing the sources of present-day social and personal pathologies, antitechnologism allows us to speciously replace capitalism with technology, which basically facilitates capital accumulation and the exploitation of labor, as the underlying cause of growth and of ecological destruction. Civilization, embodied in the city as a cultural center, is divested of its rational dimensions, as if the city were an unabated cancer rather than the potential sphere for universalizing human intercourse…”

Bookchin also attempts to attack currents of thought like primitivism and anti-civilization, but really just proves that he does not understand the critique these strains are making. Anti-civilization ideas are generally not “anti” technology, so much as they are insisting on an honesty about technology. The technology that exists, exists because of a globalized system of coercion. As anarchists, we need to be critical of this system, and understand that without coercion modern technology would simply not exist. Those who critique technology often do not oppose technology itself, but the manner in which technology is produced. Bookchin’s claim of “antitechnologism” is either a misunderstanding, or a purposeful falsification.

It is also worth noting that Bookchin again vulgarizes primitivism and anti-civ ideas by equating civilization with cities. He dares not address something like Fredy Perlman’s idea of civilization as the roots of all hierarchy…as simply rulership. Instead, Bookchin shows his cowardice by addressing anti-civ ideas with a meme level understanding of it, avoiding those who have thought deeper on the subject.

“Lifestyle anarchism must be seen in the present social context not only of demoralized black ghettoes and reactionary white suburbs but even of Indian reservations, those ostensible centers of ‘primality,’ in which gangs of Indian youths now shoot at one another, drug dealing is rampant, and ‘gang graffiti greets visitors even at the sacred Window Rock monument,’ “

And, of course, no old white man rant would be complete without some statements that just end up sounding like a confused racism. Bookchin actually attempts to claim that lifestyle/individual anarchism is responsible or related to the severe marginalization of people of color?! I believe that responsibility lies with capitalism and the racist structures it has created, not some individualist spectre.

“Social anarchism, in my view, is made of fundamentally different stuff, heir to the Enlightenment tradition…”

Finally, Bookchin comes clean, after the thinly veiled racism, and comes forth with an admission of his true forebearers…the archetypical “old white dudes” of the Enlightenment. Bookchin’s anarchism is not rooted in a simple desire for “no rulers”, but tied up in the liberal white supremacism of Enlightenment ideas.

“it describes the democratic dimension of anarchism as a majoritarian administration of the public sphere.”

Bookchin cannot rid himself of statist ideas, as he goes on to talk about his notion of Communalism. Bookchin does not stop to think “What if the majority does not want to administrate anything?” To him, anarchism is just another system of rulership, albeit a “majoritarian” one. Anarchism to him, becomes less about “no rulers”, and more about “everyone rules”.

“The sovereign, self-sufficient ‘individual’ has always been a precarious basis upon which to anchor a left libertarian outlook.”

Clearly, Bookchin does not believe in any sort of “bottom up” egalitarianism, or else he would not be so quick to dismiss the individual. Free and empowered individuals make up free and empowered societies, and should absolutely be the basis of liberty. One cannot force a system onto people, and then call those people free, no matter how inclusive the system.

“Democracy is not antithetical to anarchism; nor are majority rule and nonconsensual decisions incommensurable with a libertarian society. “

Any sort of rule…Any sort of nonconsensual decision is antithetical to anarchism. Here, again, Bookchin shows his desire to control others in the name of freedom. He literally attempts to reconcile the very tools of the state with anarchism!

“That no society can exist without institutional structures is transparently clear to anyone who has not been stupefied by Stirner and his kind.”

Again, his blatant statism is laid bare. Is “institutional structures” not simply another name for “rulership”? Of course, given the many societal blueprints that Bookchin created in his lifetime, it is clear that Bookchin saw himself at the helm of, or at least a theoretician of these “institutional structures”. Bookchin is incapable of rejecting these structures, because he views them as instruments to be used in ruling over others.

“Certainly, it is already no longer possible, in my view, to call oneself an anarchist without adding a qualifying adjective to distinguish oneself from lifestyle anarchists.”

And again, Bookchin shows that he is the one attempting to dilute anarchism, by attempting to add qualifiers and appendages to it. If anarchism can be obscured by adjectives, then its true meaning of “no rulers” can be watered down and even changed into something else.

“Mere opposition to the state may well unite fascistic lumpens with Stirnerite lumpens, a phenomenon that is not without its historical precedents. “

Bookchin finishes with a bit of classist flair, using the same terms that Marx used with disdain when talking about the underclasses of people. Bookchin, the “good worker”, must berate and chastise others. In a fit of workerism, Bookchin then plays the card common to leftists, and sinks to claims of fascism, putting to rest the notion that he ever had any real argument to begin with.

This final cry of “fascism!” truly shows Bookchin’s true designs here. He is willing to use the threat of fascism to scare those who might not be convinced by the piece’s end into complying. This final statement perfectly illustrates the authoritarianism masking itself as anarchism that Bookchin exemplifies.

“Follow my ‘organized’ and ‘coherent’ plans, or you are a fascist!” he cries.

OK Bookchin…

#no wing anarchy #google murray bookchin #murray bookchin #left wing #anarchy #anarchism #social anarchism

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nyeusigrube-haven · 4 years

Text

Inbox of Diana Smoke: Thanksgiving Drabble

12 pm: Rosemary

Rosemary Marinitch ran her "to-do" list through her mind as she looked around the sprawling kitchen of the Briar Patch farm. Butcher-block counters were piled high with sweet potatoes, beets, carrots, mushrooms, cranberries, and assorted other fruits, vegetables and tubers.

The venison mince pie was almost ready to come out of the oven; the dessert pies and the bread pudding had all been done for hours. The sweets-and-beets could share the oven with the turkeys, Casper and Nixon... both named by Mare's youngest brother, Jay, who had apparently been in a whimsical mood that spring and was now hiding somewhere in the back yard in order to avoid any semblance of "helping." Now headless, plucked and brined, Casper and Nixon were patiently awaiting their apple-pecan cornbread stuffing.

The acorn squash, stuffed mushrooms and au gratin potatoes were all done, ready to be put in the oven and re-warmed shortly before serving...

She paused to take a deep breath.

Since Mare had taken over cooking from her father, Thanksgiving had always been a wonderfully frantic day. Including several local family friends, they normally had about a dozen people, but this year the number would be higher. Most of the Vida family had accepted her invitation, shocking her to the core, and some of them had asked whether it was all right to bring guests. Even her cousin Nathan had promised to show up.

On the other hand, Mare knew all her guests well enough to know that a good half-dozen of them were at risk of cancelling at the last minute.

The doorbell rang.

She took a deep breath and braced herself.

4:00 pm: Sarah Vida

Sarah woke, groggy, at four in the afternoon. Christine was gently shaking her shoulder, and reminding her, "Sarah, you asked me to get you up. It's Thanksgiving."

The reminder probably wouldn't have been sufficient motivation if she hadn't known that the family had pushed Thanksgiving dinner to five in deference to their newly-vampiric niece's solar challenges. In previous years, they had eaten at about one in the afternoon, an hour Sarah suspected she wouldn't comfortably see for quite a while.

People kept saying things like, We'll see. It's different for everyone, when she asked how long it would take her to adjust so she could be awake during the day, but she had figured out that they meant, No one really gets over it, but if you're powerful enough, you can endure.

"Thanks," she said to Christine, as she rolled out of bed and shook out her hair. Being undead had a few- only a few- unexpected advantages. Vampires didn't sweat, or secret oils, or shed skin cells, or perform any other messy mortal processes. This made showers unnecessary unless one spilled something on oneself, or wanted to bathe purely for the comfort value. It also greatly lessened travel time. All that combined, and meant that Sarah had time to get dressed, feed, and make it to dinner in time.

With her feet still bare, she padded downstairs to see who else was around.

She found Nikolas in the dining room, but it wasn't Kristopher seated at the rarely-used formal table with him.

By this point, Sarah was getting used to seeing individuals whose faces she had memorized from pictures in the Vida's collection of targets. She tried to avoid staring, and was almost always able to avoid saying the first thing that came to her mind. Sometimes she chose to be tactful, and just backed away slowly.

In this case, she spoke the instant she thought. "What the fu-"

"Sarah," Nikolas said, rising with enough of a guilty start that she was sure he knew exactly why she was upset. "I'm sorry, our meeting ran late."

"Sarah Vida," the other vampire said, standing with a smile and an offered hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm-"

"I know who you are." There wasn't a cell in her body that wanted to shake that hand, so she ignored it until it lowered. She had spent a month learning to play nice with other vampires, but there were lines. This was a line.

"Excuse us," Nikolas said to his guest, before stepping forward, catching Sarah by the arm, and guiding her to the next room. It wouldn't give them privacy- vampiric hearing was too good. He just wanted to get them out of each other's sights.

"I have been nice to Kendra," Sarah hissed, "and I have been polite to Kaleo. I love you and Kristopher despite what I know of your history, which you have to admit cuts pretty damn close to home. But if you try to convince me to dissemble and shake the hand of one of Midnight's trainers, by the goddess I will do it with a blade in my hand and I don't care what you say about consequences."

Jaguar stepped into the doorway, but wisely chose not to acknowledge Sarah before saying to Nikolas, "I left the documentation on the table. Good luck."

He disappeared. At Sarah's glare, Nikolas said, "He's changed, Sarah."

"I. Don't. Care," she bit out. "He worked for an empire that tried to make my entire species extinct, Nikolas. For centuries, he deliberately tortured and enslaved innocent humans... not to mention shapeshifters and witches whenever he could get them. If he's changed, great. Maybe he can keep walking the Earth. But I will not associate with one of Midnight's power-players. I can't."

She recognized the expression on his face, which meant he was trying to decide between handling her to avoid an argument, or going with tough-love.

She decided first. Nikolas couldn't back out of this argument, but she didn't have time for it now.

"I'm going to feed, then head over to the Briar Patch. I'll see you and Kristopher later tonight."

"Should-"

"Later," she snapped, interrupting him before he could shove his foot further into his mouth.

4:08 pm: Kyla Cobriana-Vida

"Vemke'tasa," Kyla swore, as she raced for the showers. She had overslept. If she didn't seriously hustle, she was going to be late for the first family holiday she had ever been invited to... and it wasn't easy to hustle here.

She had to climb over three other people to get out of the sleeping area and into the common room. It wasn't that they were all normally nocturnal, but they had been up all night working on a particularly tricky intre'marl with Stefan, and then a few hours more partying. They had all crashed sometime around eight in the morning.

Good judgment? Maybe not. Worth it? She hoped so.

Most serpiente didn't celebrate Thanksgiving, so her nest-mates were going about their daily routines like always, which meant the showers were busy at this time of day.

As long as she didn't try to claim a crown, something she had no desire to do, the serpiente didn't care that she wasn't legitimate. The vast majority of serpents weren't. That meant she got all the advantages of cobra blood without any of the responsibilities, which meant people got out of the way and let her duck under one of the shower heads without objecting.

Normally, there was some fooling around here- you couldn't have a communal shower without people playing tricks like hiding each other's clothes- which meant Kyla didn't keep her street clothes in the dressing room. Buck naked except for a towel wrapped around her long black hair, she went back to her cohorts' den. They had been warned about how important this day was to her, and threatened with skinning and dismemberment if they dared do anything that could mess it up.

When she got there, they were all awake. Stefan had her street clothes laid out for her, and Alicia was readying a hair-dryer and clips. Luke was blinking sleep from his eyes, but greeted her with an encouraging smile.

They didn't understand, but that didn't matter. They wanted to help.

The thought brought tears to her eyes- followed immediately by rolling nausea.

I can't do this, she thought.

"Sit down, girl," Alicia commanded, as Kyla froze in the doorway, fighting panic. "We'll get you all primped to go have a fancy dinner with your mother's folks. Just remember, no matter what, you're one of us. You're beautiful, you're talented, you're proud. Got it?"

4:28 pm: Michael Arun

It took Michael Arun quite a while to remember where he was when he woke up.

Patchy carpet under him. Thin blanket half over him. Knife digging into his side- just the handle, thankfully, since it was still sheathed at his waist. No bruises, though he'd had those before going to bed, too.

He was in a slightly run-down motel. He was on the floor because Rant and Rave, two crow shapeshifter sisters whose real names were never uttered, had taken the bed and this rat-trap didn't have a cot or even a couch.

It did have a television, on which he vaguely remembered watching a ten-hour marathon of Supernatural. He was pretty sure there had been a drinking game associated with it, but in the glaring light of day sneaking around the edges of the closed curtains, he couldn't remember what rules they had been following or even what they had been drinking.

He put his head back down.

It had been a good party, anyway, celebrating the conclusion of a multi-day hunt in which they had been stalking a nest of vamps that had managed to make themselves the feudal lords of this tiny town. Vamps were gone now, and the town of wherever-they-were was marginally safer. Michael couldn't wait to see what SingleEarth told the terrified populace.

On second thought, yes he could.

He didn't know what day of the week it was, never mind the date. He considered checking his phone, but if he turned it on he knew he would probably have messages, and he didn't feel like answering any more distress calls yet. He wasn't even sure if it was November or December.

December would be better. November had been the month from hell.

Putting his head back down on a makeshift pillow made of a rolled-up sweatshirt, he closed his eyes again. Another eight hours of sleep seemed like a good idea.

4:30 pm: Nathan Marinitch

Won't be able to make it to dinner this year. Love you all. Happy Thanksgiving. Don't reply.

Nathan Marinitch sent the text to his cousin Mare, and then deleted any evidence of sending it and tucked the ultra-slim phone into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

A bird fluttered to his side, sharing images of the local landscape. The American kestrel Nathan was honored to have as a companion could see vivid colors that had no words in human language. It refrained from perching on Nathan's shoulder because its talons had a tendency to leave noticeable marks in his suit jackets. He couldn't afford that at the moment.

By the time he approached the stronghold, he knew the exact location of every guard, every gun, every hostage, every door and window and bolt-hold.

He cast Kestrel back into the air. Her fierce cry was silent, purely mental, so it would not draw attention. Nathan focused his power, seeking out threads of energy from every living creature around him.

He checked his watch. He had twenty-seven minutes.

4:39 pm: Zachary Vida

In the past, Zachary had always followed Dominique's lead when it came to holidays, which meant that like her he had put the hunt first. Thanksgiving usually meant camping out with a container of Chinese food and a few other hunters while they discussed the upcoming season.

Some people loved the holidays. Some people dreaded them. Hunters knew that the days between Halloween and Valentine's Day tended to be bloody. Few vampires celebrated the birth of Christ or the triumph of the Maccabees, but they enjoyed revelry and over-indulgence just as much as any human.

This year, Olivia had convinced him to take a break and relax for the holiday- though she had not convinced him to join her and her friends. Instead, he had accepted an invitation to the Briar Patch, the Marinitch family home. The invitation had been extended every year for as long as he could remember; sometimes he had remembered to decline, but just as often he had forgotten. He almost hadn't had the courage to say yes this time.

When he had, though, Rosemary Marinitch hadn't even paused. She had continued the phone conversation as if he had been a figure at their Thanksgiving table every year of her life.

Now he was in the car with Diana Smoke, another witch he had rarely given the time of day previously. Rosemary had arranged for Diana to give him a ride; conspiratorially, she had explained to Zachary, "I know Diana. If she isn't responsible for someone else, she'll get pulled into work and won't get to the house before Christmas." He wondered if she had told Diana the exact same thing. I know Zachary. If he has to drive himself, he'll chicken out half-way here.

She would have been right.

It made for an awkward car ride, however. Their occasional attempts at small-talk failed. Zachary's life might have taken a strange turn a while back, but he still didn't have a lot in common with the woman considered the heart and soul of SingleEarth.

Well, no, there was the fact that they were both trying to hold together the shattered wreckage of everything they had ever cared about. If they had wanted to, they could probably have had a lengthy conversation about that.

It was a long, silent drive.

4:44 pm: Jeremy Francisco

Oh, to be a fly on the wall... and feel like, at any moment, the swatter might come down.

Jeremy Francisco stepped into the Briar Patch feeling like he was on the verge of explosion, or implosion, or something along those lines. He had certainly never been happier not to be a witch, since he knew perfectly well what such powers could do when combined with high emotions.

With his brother's hissing voice still lingering in his mind, he was certainly experiencing high emotions. "It's all about you, isn't it? It always has to be all about Jeremy!"

He had wanted to reply, "Yes, Dave, my wedding is all about me," but he knew better.

SingleEarth had pamphlets titled things like, How do I tell my family? He could vividly recall reading one specific piece of advice, echoed by numerous others: Telling your family about the paranormal probably means challenging a deep-seated world-view. Even in the best of circumstances, you may face anxiety and denial, which can come out as anger.

We advise against announcing your status to a group. Talk to your family members one-on-one, so you can appeal to their reason and offer the support they need to cope with new and often frightening information. Save big holidays for announcements of weddings, graduations and promotions. Announcing that humans are not alone and you are now a shapeshifter at the Christmas dinner table is more likely to make people remember "the year you ruined Christmas" than it is to inspire good will and tolerance.

Jeremy had followed half of that advice.

He had pulled his brother aside an hour or so before the Thanksgiving turkey was due to be served. They hadn't been as close since high school, since they had followed different paths, but at least Dave wasn't a vampire hunter. If Jeremy could win him over, he would be an ally.

It didn't work that way.

"I've proposed and she said yes," went very well.

"There's something I need to tell you..." didn't go quite as well.

Jeremy left before dinner, with Dave's parting shot- "I'll tell Mom you had some kind of emergency at that stupid clinic where you work"- echoing in his ears.

He tried to shake off the strain of the confrontation as he pulled onto the dirt driveway of the Marinitch family home, a large ranch set at the edge of several acres of farmland that had long ago mostly gone fallow. Some had been reclaimed by neighboring woods, and other parts had been deliberately filled with native plants. Only one acre was still cultivated, with a combination of herbs, fruits and vegetables.

4:45 pm: Jay Marinitch

From three acres away, Jay could hear his sister Mare fuming. At this distance, he should have been able to tune her out, but she would have known and that would have made her even angrier.

Nathan had just bailed at the last minute... again. Caryn, who was supposed to be helping Mare cook, was as nervous as a fly on a griddle because Jeremy hadn't arrived yet or called to say how late he would be. Zachary and Diana were supposedly on their way, though Zachary's voice had sounded strained when he had called Mare to say they had hit some traffic. Sarah should be there any moment.

Should he wander in and offer assistance?

Or would that just frustrate her more?

He wasn't much help with-

JAY! I know you're hiding out there!

Strictly speaking, Mare was not telepathic, but she had always had a unique way of communicating clearly within her own family.

Wincing, and wishing he'd had the sense to be out of range, Jay trudged through knee- and waist-high brush and grasses before traveling carefully between rows of actual tended plants and then slipping discretely inside. A glance at the clock he passed revealed it to be 4:49 pm.

"How can I help?" he asked, as he found his sister frantically trying to remain calm as she attempted to add final touches to four different dishes in the vast kitchen.

"You're not dressed," she snapped.

He glanced down. Shirt. Pants. Even shoes. Seemed sufficient. Mare's glare made it clear that this was not acceptable for Thanksgiving, however, so he wordlessly retreated to his room.

"Your cat is sleeping on your clothes," his brother, Vireo, remarked as they passed on the stairs. "Mare left one of those sticky tape rolls in the guest bathroom. Use it before you come back down. And brush your hair!"

And here Jay had been so proud of his forethought in setting out his Thanksgiving clothes ahead of time, to make sure he had all the pieces and they all still fit.

Jerk, he thought to the Canadian lynx, who was indeed curled up on top of Jay's amber-green dress shirt and tie. Both items had been picked out and personally approved by Mare, which meant he couldn't switch them for something else even if he'd had anything else.

Cat's faces were not made for grinning, but Lynx pulled it off somehow anyway.

I'm going to get some turkey, Lynx announced, as he jumped up and rubbed against Jay on his way out the door.

Jay heard the cars and other ruckus downstairs as he dressed and diligently de-furred himself, but there was no way to prepare for this confrontation. He had to force himself to walk downstairs, where he stepped into a fog of anxiety, frustration, and fury concealed behind strained but smiling faces.

Across the room, Vireo met his gaze with his own apologetic one. Why hadn't Jay taken Michael up on his invitation to go hunting this week, instead?

5:45 pm: Rosemary Marinitch

Vidas were nothing if not prompt, but other guests straggled in late, as if five in the evening was an absurdly early hour to have a Thanksgiving dinner. Finally, though, all of them were gathered around the tables... including Jay's Canadian lynx, who had insisted on having his own chair at the table.

Two large mice, having been granted a reprieve by Nathan's last-minute cancellation and Kestrel's resultant absence, were now enjoying a feast of carrot greens, apples and cranberries before they were due to be released back into the wild... unless Lynx got bored of turkey before he was as stuffed as Casper. Mare's bond, a female Hanoverian, was keeping company with her father's greyhound; both were happy to avoid the stressed-out crowds of people, and to indulge in their Thanksgiving gifts. Vireo's fox was delightedly pigging out on a mouse-berry pie that Mare had assembled and set out on a mat for the fox, who had no intention of placing himself in a chair. Two barn-cats, though not bonded to any particular witch, had nevertheless also been invited and were happily sharing in scraps.

In deference to the sensibilities of both the people and the poultry, none of the turkeys had been invited.

Except Casper and Nixon, of course.

Mare had given up on socializing with the other people as soon as everyone had been introduced to each other and dinner had been served. Vireo did the work of engaging people in conversation, breaking the ice and the tension both, until Jay finally stopped looking like he was going to faint and actually started to eat.

Now that everyone was talking, occasionally laughing, and smiling in a way that didn't need to be faked, Rosemary's job was done.

At least until the dishes needed to be washed.

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ertrunkenerwassergeist · 4 years

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Born Into the Wilds - 07. Moot

I just remembered that I didn’t put the latest chapter here on tumblr. So here it is and also a Link to AO3. Thank you @lightsaberwieldingdalek for your help!

In which Nyx parkours aound Little Galahd and old people debate while everybody else watches.

Featuring: hunting reporters, Nyx' recklessnes, politics, old people with agendas, family drama in the background, Ulric clan history, Nyx' lack of self worth, magic, and did I mention politics?

Warnings: mentions of war, flight and death

Foreign words:

sinehär gisdrauht = Elder Storyteller cünaniu = a moot, basically a publilc gathering to debate stuff. Held by selected Elders and has to be an odd number druhm = edible root that looks like a black carrot and tastes a bit like hazelnut and is sweet like beetroot, can be used in teas, be roasted or cooked maneth = mother, stepmother; affectionate term oirkar = chief, clan head; lit.: leading person; a title Galahkari = people of Galahd ahtri = spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors makti-oir = war chief, commander-in-chief, warlord; lit.: leading hunter kohna = swearword; along the lines of shit buhgil = term of endearment for children; lit.: sprout (noun)

Nyx scaled the outer wall of the concrete building with all the grace of a disgruntled cat. Muttering obscene curses under his breath, he swung himself over the railing and landed on the flat roof in a crouch with nary a sound.

The day had started so well. Considering the circumstances, that is.

It had been an absolute disaster.

After being thrown out of bed by Libertus and swinging by Pelna's place to find out what the realms of Pitioss was going on, sinehär gisdrauht Istoria Patientia had come by personally to 'invite' him to a cünaniu that was to happen this afternoon. It had been shortly after lunch, Pelna, Libertus, Luche and Axis had to attend a spontaneous training exercise and so hadn't been there. Nyx himself was still on medical leave and so Tethys had invited him to stay.

Greetings had been exchanged. Istoria sat at the table, a steaming cup of the traditional tea of welcome in front of her. The smell of druhm roots, pepper, cardamom, liquorice and honey made Nyx think back to his sister's first tries that had been overly strong and sweet. Barely eight, she had been so proud of her achievement that neither his mother nor him had uttered anything but compliments. That day had been full of Selena's bright laughter.

Istoria took a sip and hummed in appreciation. “You have a skilled hand for brewing tea, Tethys of Clan Najad.”

“Thank you, Sinehär Patientia. My maneth taught me; her teas were said to be the best,” demurred Tethys, her own cup between her hands and a sad smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

The short exchange startled Nyx out of his childhood reverie. Silently reprimanding himself for his lapse in attention, he forced the image of a smiling and laughing Selena from his mind. The painful stab of regret he felt in his heart every time he thought of her, had never gotten easier to bear over the years.

“For which occasion do you honour my family with your visit, sinehär?” asked the younger woman.

“To my regret it's not a member of your family I came to meet,” Istoria said. Her eyes were firmly set on Nyx who dearly wished he could vanish into the ground at that very moment. “A cünaniu has been called for this afternoon and Oirkar Ulric has been invited to speak among us.”

Her body language, the set of her jaw and the tone of her voice made it clear what kind of invitation it was. Should he not show up at the gathering he would lose what standing he had within the Galahkari of Insomnia. Loathe as he was to admit it, if he didn't have his standing as the head of an old and respected clan, much of the shit he did get himself into wouldn't end as well as it normally did.

Beneath the sharp eyes of both women in the room, Istoria's giving nothing away and Tethys' silently promising to get an explanation out of him, he bowed his head in acceptance.

“I will be there, to speak and to listen,” he said.

“Good,” nodded the old woman. “Now, I don't care how you do it, but get those reporters out of Little Galahd as fast as you can. They're more of a nuisance than evergrow weed.”

“Of course, sinehär,” muttered Nyx, internally wincing. He'd had to turn off his phone after the ninth call from one reporter or other. He knew it wouldn't help any in the long run, but for now he could actually talk to someone without being interrupted every five minutes. Maybe he should invest into a new number. Though he had no idea how to do what the Elder had asked of him.

“The cünaniu will be held by the community fire at exactly 4pm. I trust you know the etiquette of an invited speaker?”

Nyx nodded again. All Clan Heads had to know; they were most likely the ones to be invited, if someone was. Speak clearly and only when prompted. Any other time an invited speaker wanted to say something they had to take a step forward and wait until they were acknowledged. The surrounding crowd, if there was one, wasn't to be addressed ever. Since this was a formal event the proper titles had to be observed.

They drank the rest of their tea largely in silence, only interrupted by the spare bits of small talk Tethys and Istoria engaged in.

This was not going to be any kind of fun. At all.

Now he crept over the flat roof of an apartment complex in the middle of Little Galahd not too far from the courtyard the Galahkari had chosen as their speaking grounds, with little time remaining and on the run from those damned reporters.

Carefully, he crept over the roof between damp bed sheets that had been hung out to dry. They made his way into a labyrinth that his him quite well and made him feel marginally safer. It was childish, but he couldn't quite help it. He still didn't dare to stand up properly.

If he ever found out who had blabbed, he was getting Luche to do a blood eagle for him. And damn the consequences. The longer he thought about it, the more he was convinced that it must have been the lab technician who talked. He doubted that either King Regis, Shield Amicitia or General Leonis would sabotage the situation like that. Nyx had known from the start that it was a bad idea to consent to a private audience.

At the reminder of that private office and that awful portrait he snarled at the bed sheets drying in the warm air and spit out in an impulsive show of disdain. Ozone burned in his nose and when his fingers brushed one of the sheets the spot started to sizzle.

He bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood. No, now was not the time to be upset about a portrait depicting the Conqueror King, as justified as it may be. It was just a portrait for ahtrihn sake. The man himself was long dead. It was a cold comfort.

He reached the other end of the roof and glanced down at the street five storeys below him. Not a reporter in sight. Just a few Galahkari making their way to and fro, easily recognizable by the patterns of their clothes.

Thank Enías for making me lose them.

It would have been so embarrassing, if those reporters had managed to follow him all the way here. Nyx had probably lost them somewhere around the the narrow streets around the marketplace, where they had made such a ruckus that some pedestrians had looked close to causing bodily harm. Well, most Lucians had a talent for that, so it wasn't anything new. The point was he had finally lost them.

Furrowing his brow in consideration he glanced down at the street again. It wasn't far towards the court yard where the community fire was, now. Should he risk it?

Scoffing at himself – he wasn't scared of a few reporters, damn it – he made his way down, jumping from windowsill to windowsill as if they were the branches of a tree made out of concrete.

Somebody yelped in surprise and Nyx winked at a woman standing by the windowsill he was using as a temporary perch, a wide and playful grin on his face. He jumped the last two storeys down followed by a slew of obscene curses. People turned around to see what was going on, but as soon as they recognized him they nodded in greeting and went back to their own business.

Heh, he still got it.

His grin transformed into a satisfied one as he flounced off towards the community fire.

The spark in his bones rumbled like a giant satisfied cat.

After running all over Little Galahd – technically it was just the market place and a few streets, but there wasn't anybody present to refute his claim, so there – he was nearly late. There were more people present in the courtyard than he had expected. Then again, considering the topic to be discussed it honestly wasn't too surprising.

Nyx saw quite a few friends and closer acquaintances in the mingling crown, but didn't have the time for more than a nod in greeting. Luche, Axis, Pelna, Crowe and Libertus were part of the training exercise the Glaive was scheduled to do today, Tredd and Sonitus were there, however, along with Pelna's eldest niece Ker. Here and there he could see other members of the Glaive that were on leave. Then there were Ariadne and Archyll so close to the fire barrel, it was nearly inappropriate.

Nyx made a face and acted as if he hadn't seen them, a longing tug in his gut. He tried to shake it off. Both of them had made it quite clear when he had joined the Kingsglaive that he wasn't welcome with them any longer.

Straight backed and head held high he stepped into the space the sinehäri had left for him. Right between Istoria and Eriq. The old willowy man stared at him with icy eyes. His remaining hair was carefully braided into a neat braid full of colourful beads, that reached his chest.

Nyx crossed his wrists next to his left hip in greeting deference. He didn't say a word, as it wasn't his place to speak first. The five sinehäri in the circle touched their chests, right over the heart, with the back of their hands in the acknowledgement.

All around them the crowd grew silent.

Istoria was the first to speak, as she was the oldest if the five.

“Welcome to the open fire. May the flames be witness to what is spoken and keep the knowledge until the ashes of the world are washed away.” She spoke the traditional greeting in the oldest tongue they remembered. Then she turned to him. “Be welcome as a guest in our midst, Nyx, Oirkar of Clan Ulric, that you may speak and be heard.”

“May the flames be witness to my words and prove them to be true,” Nyx replied, the old words heavy on his tongue, his accent a heavy drawl.

It didn't happen all too often that one not an elder or a clan head involved in the governing of the Galahkari was invited to speak in a cünaniu.

“We have gathered here today,” Istoria continued in modern Hadnissa, “ to deliberate on the recent development concerning Nyx, Oirkar of Clan Ulric and King Regis of the Lucis Caelum line.”

She used the Lucian word for 'king' since technically Hadnissa didn't have an equivalent word for the title. There were a few that came close, but like all titles in Galahd they had to be earned and the Lucian king most certainly hadn't done that.

“Now tell us in detail what led to the articles this morning and those Lucians crawling all over the place,” commanded Eriq more terse than necessary.

Istoria cast the man a stern glance. Nyx kept his face carefully neutral as all eyes trained on him.

He started his tale with what he could tell of his last mission without going against the King's orders. It was moments like these Nyx hated the careful balancing act he had to practice due to his debt to the man.

The sinehäri kept their silence until his tale ended, even if Eriq and Elenia looked like they dearly wanted to interrupt him more than once. The only thing holding them back was the fact that one wasn't to interrupt a speaking party, if one didn't want to be excluded. After Nyx had finished his recounting, having made it as detailed as he could manage, the silence hung heavily between them for a few heartbeats.

“This is an opportunity we cannot let go to waste.”

All eyes turned towards Leonid. The man was the youngest member of the cünaniu, having reached the appropriate age only three years ago. All other remaining members had been a part of it since before Galahd had fallen.

“What do you propose we do, Sinehär Leonid of the Colophon?” asked Elenia, her voice cold and sharp.

The lower right side of her face looked like the skin had melted and formed into into a misshapen mass. The mark travelled down her throat in sprinkles and vanished under one of the colourful scarves she always wore. Sometimes her right arm twitched without her permission. Those were souvenirs the Nifs had left her with during the initial attack. Since then she was against anything to do with Lucis or Niflheim.

The youngest of the five Elders returned her gaze evenly. “I propose we play into their expectations. Lucis doesn't recognize a country or ethnic group without them having a clear leader to negotiate with. I think we will all agree when I say that's not something we have. We could make Oirkar Ulric our representative, so to speak.”

“So he would be what? Our... king?” Eriq practically spat the Lucian word in front of his feet like it was a curse.

Nyx suppressed a flinch. His fingernails dug painfully into the palms of his hands. He swallowed down the words burning on his tongue and reminded himself not to speak. From where he stood he could see parts of the crowd. It was utterly silent for a crowd this big. He could make out worried faces, angry ones, neutral and confused ones. It was a pretty mixed bag. Ker had moved into the first row of the spectators and grinned at him when she saw him looking.

“I'm saying that, if we were recognized as an autonomous people, we would have rights. Family members of dead Kingsglaives wouldn't lose their homes, we would have the right to open our own schools to educate our children in our ways, just to name a few. Or traditions exist because they saved our lives, now it's time we add to them.”

Elenia stared at Leonid with distaste burning in her eyes. “I won't consent to changing our traditions because Lucis demands it!”

“Traditions have been altered or added to before. Lucians have been the catalyst of that for many times. As a people it is our most sacred duty to remember what others forget. It is a lapse in our duty that it took us so long to realize the true depths of Lucian ignorance.” Here Istoria nodded towards Nyx in reference to his tale about the private audience. “We cannot let ourselves be dragged down into the same pit of forgetfulness. For that we need to teach and to be able to teach, we need the Lucians cooperation while we reside in their city.”

“You want to teach Lucians?” Elenia's scandalized cry caused a wave of silent unrest within the crowd.

“No,” said Istoria decidedly.

Her hard tone took Nyx aback. Eriq snorted and muttered something under his breath Nyx couldn't quite make out.

“You know how difficult it has been to take the children on their First Hunts, Sinehär Elenia of Clan Dala. It will only get even more so as time goes on. Something needs to happen,” intervened Demetri Arra. Until now the man had been silent, listening carefully. “Oirkar Nyx of Clan Ulric, please tell us your opinion on why exactly the Lucians are convinced of you being of higher blood.”

Nyx didn't roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. Hadn't he already done that at the beginning? Nonetheless he he opened his mouth without complaint and told them again.

“It's my ability as a mage, sinehäri. The Lucians are convinced that independent magic is only possible within two family lines in this world. The Lucis Caelums of Lucis and the Fleurets of Tenebrae. Everybody else showing magic that hasn't been gifted by them, must therefore be either of their blood or a line of higher blood blessed by their Astrals.”

All five Elders around him made various faces of distaste. Elenia's looked like a mask made out of wax due to her scar.

“What do you think they expect from you, Oirkar?” asked Demetri before anybody else could say anything. It was probably better that way.

Nyx had to pause for a second. A sense of anticipation built in the air, he didn't want to ponder. He swallowed dryly and started slowly: “I... I think the King doesn't really know, himself. For him it appears to be mainly about family. Beyond that... This has gone into a direction that cannot be predicted in its entirety. If I had to guess, I would at least be a more specific target than a whole ethnic group.”

“I think we should work with that,” reiterated Leonid into the thoughtful silence.

“I won't accept a king!” bellowed Eriq again.

“We are talking in circles,” stated Istoria in a brisk voice that brooked no argument. “The Oirkar has been put into Lucian focus. We cannot do anything about it - it has happened. What we can do, is use the situation to get what we want. Are we all in agreement about that?”

They all nodded, even if Eriq looked like he had swallowed old seaweed and Elenia like she would rather gut herself. Nyx looked at them, resigned about what he knew was the loss of his relative anonymity. He sighed soundlessly and stepped forward, waiting to be acknowledged. In for the meat, in for the kill.

Istoria looked at him, her expression one of careful consideration. She nodded.

“What about the position of makti-oir?”

Demetri made a sound like he had been punched in the gut. Leonid looked vaguely smug and Istoria had a satisfied tilt to her head. It was like that was what she had wanted to happen all along, thought Nyx.

Damn that woman.

The eyes of Elenia looked like they would fall out of her head and Eriq opened his mouth to say something – not polite, no doubt – before shutting it again with a clicking noise. A thoughtful expression made its way onto his face.

“Sinehär gisdrauht, how many members of Clan Ulric have held that position?” he asked, tugging at his beaded braid. His eyes never left Nyx who was silently cursing himself for suggesting this.

The eldest in this circle smiled. “The first was Nikon of Clan Ulric, daughter of Adrastea of Clan Ulric. She became makti-oir in the conflict that drove off the poachers. After her was Oirkar Perses of Clan Ulric, who became makti-oir the day the black sails first clouded the sky. He was the first of three to hold the position during the War of the Black Ships.”

Nyx unwittingly stood a little bit straighter as the woman listed name after name. He could feel hundreds of eyes resting on him. Those were members of his clan. His. For the first time in a long while he could truly appreciate it. His clan. His history. All those stories that had been carefully preserved and told again and again.

Elenia's gaze was still full of that raging fury he had never seen her without, but now there was also a quiet respect. Hers was not the only one.

Demetri nodded thoughtfully after Istoria had ended her impromptu narration. “Does Oirkar Nyx of Clan Ulric fulfil the requirements?”

Nyx dearly wanted to say no, but he knew that wasn't an option he had left. His people had left. If this was his chance to make things right, to atone for his failures, then he would gladly dedicate his life and his death to it. His people deserved nothing less. Selena and his mother would have deserved nothing less. All the people he had failed.

It was Istoria who spoke again: “On his First Hunt Nyx, then of no name, was blessed by the Queen of the Jungle, Lady of Beasts, the Great Coeurl herself, and now he strides in her shadow. He fed four Clans during the last winter before the war came and led twelve hunting parties through it once it was there, the second to last group to leave Galahd was the one he helped protect and since coming here he has fought to regain our homes, never leaving anyone behind, living or dead.”

The subject of such praise could barely bring himself to listen. This wasn't something he wanted to hear. It wasn't him. Where were his failures? All the people he hadn't been able to save? Those that had starved during that horrible long winter, those the Nifs had killed while he had been right there and not being able to do anything. And so many more. Those that had drowned because they had fallen off the boats during their escape, those the daemons had gotten on their miserable track across the mainland. The hunger and the sickness. All the comrades he had lost while fighting for a nation that didn't want to appreciate their sacrifices.

Nyx blinked as he noticed that the old woman had stopped talking. What had he missed. Kohna, why had he spaced out?

Eriq huffed in irritation. “Do you accept the position as makti-oir?”

Steeling himself, Nyx gazed into the crowd. A tension covered the whole courtyard like a smothering blanket. The air was stifling and hot. Hadn't there been less people when he had last looked? He couldn't say for certain.

He tried to read their faces. Would these people accept him in this position? Would his fellow hunters follow him and trust in his decisions? A heaviness settled around him he wasn't sure he could bear. His eyes caught Tredd's. The redhead stood near the edge next to Sonitus, his face an unreadable mask. For barely a heartbeat they stared at each other and then an expression flitted across Tredd's face. It was gone so fast that Nyx couldn't say what it had been, but the other man raised his chin, having come to a decision, and nodded.

Nyx turned his attention back towards the five sinehäri who were waiting for his decision with varying expressions of patience.

“I accept,” he said loud and clear.

Within seconds the tension in the air evaporated. The crowd surged, waiting for the cünaniu to end so that they could celebrate. They had come one step closer towards leaving this city and going home. Everybody knew hit.

But it wasn't over.

“What shall we do about the Lucians?” asked Leonid, looking pleased and exhausted. “I have said it before, we need someone to press for our interests. With Oirkar Nyx of Clan Ulric we have somebody who can do it.”

Elenia looked ready to murder the man. “We will not collaborate with the Lucians! Not after everything they did.”

“We won't collaborate with the Lucians,” Leonid shot back. “Think of it as taking what we're due.”

Elenia huffed but didn't say anything else. Nyx was thankful for it. He had honestly enough of old people arguing. Not that he would ever say that out loud; he didn't want to die that badly.

Demetri sighed tiredly. Even now at age 84 he was nearly a head taller then Nyx. With that and the tattoos and scars he had collected over his life, he cut an formidable figure. He spoke little outside of his duties, but his voice was like a booming bass, loud and imposing. “The Lucians should come to us first, if we do this. We must be prepared for it, but we cannot be the ones to ask for an audience with the Lucian King. It would press us into a weaker position than we already have.”

No one seemed overly happy at his last words. But they were true and everybody in the courtyard knew it.

“Are we all in agreement of this?” asked Istoria looking at her peers.

One after the other nodded. Her gaze settled on Nyx who realized that now that he was makti-oir, his voice had true weight within this circle. He nodded also.

“Then we will leave it here.” She raised her voice so that it echoed loud and clear over the heads of the listening crowd. “Let it be known that after Oizys of Clan Pontos who fell as Niflheim covered our land in death and flames, we name Oirkar Nyx of Clan Ulric as makti-oir. He has been found capable of this responsibility and has accepted it with the fire bearing witness to his words.

We will enter negotiations with the Lucian crown to fight for our tradition and way of life, as we should have done from the beginning. Let this be a lesson for us to not place our pride over our needs. The Astrals couldn't make us bend. A human king won't manage what the false Gods couldn't do. We won't let him.

May the fires bear witness to our words, to what has been said and done today. In the name of the Wooden Throne that seats only Galahd itself, I close this cünaniu.”

For one eternal second the words seemed to fill every space in the courtyard and beyond. The wandering shadows deepened and a cool breeze that carried the sound of rustling leaves and the crashing of the sea against Galahdian shores. A shiver of anticipation travelled down Nyx' spine.

Something was coming.

The fire cracked and sparks flew high, dancing in the air and brining the smell of home. It sounded like the distant roar of a coeurl.

“The hunts are on!”

The cry thundered through the air and broke the spell. The crowd roared, the sound deafening.

Nyx didn't move, too busy trying to come to grips with what had just happened. Then Ker was there, a huge grin on her face. The girl was barely old enough to remember what her home had been like. She hugged him. The force of it pressed the air out of his lungs and teased an airy laugh out of him.

Her face pressed into his shoulder and her body started to shake. She was crying. Worried, he slung his arms around her muscular form and asked: “What's wrong, buhgil?”

Ker shook her head, hiccuped and looked up at him. Her cheeks were covered in tear tracks and a dusty red. She was still smiling, positively brimming with happiness. Nyx barely understood her over the roar of the celebrating crowd.

“Thank you, Nyx. Thank you.”

#ffxv #born into the wilds #nyx ulric #ulric clan #so much worldbuilding in this one #nyx has no idea what he got himself into #people have no idea what they got themselves into #politics #cultural differences #traditions vs the need to change #my fics #the spirit writes #I should probably tone down the language thing...#oh well

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howlnikiforov · 6 years

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Trespass

Chapter Nineteen: Guilty

Pairing: Hyungwon x Reader

Word Count: 1924

Summary: You would think that one would be able to trust their soulmate, be able to love them unconditionally, and know them better than yourself. But that isn’t always the case. Who was H.One, and why did the universe think you could be soulmates?

WARNINGS: Abuse, swearing, mentions of blood

Trespass Masterlist

Hyungwon stared outside the window, watching as lightning struck in the sky, listening to the crashes of the thunder sound. He hated himself. He had pledged to be there for you during every thunderstorm, no matter the time of day, or where you were at. Yet here he was, standing outside his bedroom window, doing nothing.

He knew, that wherever you were right now, you were suffering; he could feel it. You were in pain, and there was nothing he could do about it. He had no idea where you were, what was happening to you.

He picked up the empty vase on his nightstand and threw it across the room in anger and frustration. The only lead he had was that it was Youngjae who took you, and that Youngjae was working with YG.

The vase shattered the second it made contact with the wall. The shards of glass fell to the floor with a clatter, but Hyungwon didn’t care. Kihyun was getting pissed because of all the glass he’s been breaking, but his friend didn’t say anything. No one dared talk to Hyungwon unless it was necessary. The last man to talk to him about something that didn’t require his immediate attention lost an eye.

A particularly loud boom shook the house, and Hyungwon knew that that was your limit. A second after that crash the bond felt off in a way, the pain in his arm spiked, and the colors around him seemed to dull. The moment he realized the colors had marginally faded, his heart stopped. Something life threatening had happened to you. It killed him, not knowing what was going on with you.

He punched the wall, a hole slightly larger than the size of his fist forming. Whatever Youngjae was doing to you, he’d pay the price for it. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on the man that took his soulmate, claiming her as his own. He wouldn’t rest until he made sure Youngjae knew the extent of his transgressions.

The door to his room opened, but before Hyungwon had time to throw something at the intruder, Changkyun said, “Boss, I think I’ve found the van they used.”

Hyungwon stopped short, letting the knife he held fall back into his pocket. “Show me.”

He followed his hacker down to the basement, where all the technology he could possibly need was located. On various computer screens were pictures of a single van, all from different angles. “It took awhile, but I was able to find the van on CCTV seven miles from her apartment.” He explained, “I’m still working on getting a clear, distinct picture of the license plate, but for now, we’ve got the van. If you look at this picture,” He pointed to one of the monitors on the left, “You can just barely make out Youngjae in the driver’s seat.”

Hyungwon leaned forward, squinting his eyes at the screen. He was almost certain that was Youngjae. “Do we know where the van went?” He asked, staring intensely at all the other screens.

“No, but get this. Just a day after the incident the van is seen again, going out of town.” Changkyun pulled up a new set of pictures and video clips, allowing Hyungwon to view each one of them. “It seems like they may be going to an abandoned sector. I’ve looked into the ones we’ve already identified, but they’re not there. They must have more hidden lairs we have yet to discover.”

“Have you told anyone else?” “No sir. I knew you’d want this information the second I got it.” “Yes, that is correct. I’ll start sending groups of men out to scope any areas outside of town. Prepare any equipment they may need to take with them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hyungwon turned on his heel and left to go back upstairs. He immediately called for thirty of his men, telling them to prepare to leave in pairs to scope out new areas and look for clues.

The pain in Hyungwon’s arm was never ending, but he’s begun to learn how to deal with it. Some days were better than others, but for the past week everything has been filled with agony. Sometimes it was too much to handle, and he’d lock himself up where no one could get to him, where he could let it all out. It hurt, you having been forcefully taken from him. He despised himself for a number of reasons. He failed at keeping his promise to protect you, to keep you safe. He failed at always being there for you, at keeping a watchful eye on you. He failed at keeping his promise to be there for you when you needed him. He failed at finding you in a timely manner. He failed in everything. He had thought that by now, he would have gotten to you. But it was only now that he was getting a lead. He’s failed you in so many ways, he wouldn’t be surprised if you never forgave him. He wouldn’t forgive himself.

At most, it’d take his group of men a few hours to gather any information. He prayed that they’d find something, even if it was the smallest thing. He was going crazy, not knowing where to even begin to start finding you. To make things even better, your father had begun to search for you because Sohyun reported you missing, so he now had to skirt around everything to avoid running into him.

He paced the room, chewing on the nail of his thumb. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear Minhyuk come into the room. Minhyuk put his hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump and stiffen, ready to fight whoever it was. He relaxed when he saw it was Minhyuk. “What?” He managed to croak out.

“You gotta come eat. Kihyun made some soup.” He said, glancing about the room. “I see you broke another vase.”

“I’m not hungry.” Hyungwon stated, continuing his pace around the room.

“Hyungwon, you need to eat. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“Yeah, because I’m not hungry.” “How do you expect to fight Youngjae if you don’t have the strength, because you’re not eating?” Minhyuk didn’t want to play that card, but it seemed he had no choice.

Hyungwon ran a hand through his hair, huffing in frustration. Minhyuk was right, he needed to have energy to get to you. “Fine, I’ll eat.” He relented.

Minhyuk grinned, and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the room and down the stairs to the dining room.

“Oh, Hyungwon, I was worried you wouldn’t come down.” Wonho said, looking up from his laptop screen.

Hyungwon merely rolled his eyes, and sat at the head of the table. Jooheon bounded into the room, a wide smile on his face. “Guess who just bribed a bunch of guys to spy on YG and infiltrate his men?” He announced, “Me! Oh the things people will do for money. It’s quite funny really.”

Hyungwon felt a sense of pride in the man, ecstatic to hear the helpful news. “How much are you giving them?” He asked.

“Well, there’s five of them. I started them off with two-fifty grand, and told them I’d give them an extra twenty grand with each useful piece of information. They think that by the end of it all they’ll be billionaires, but I was bluffing about that part. They’ll probably die soon anyways.” Jooheon informed. Everyone in the room nodded in approval.

Right now, everything seemed to be working out well. If they kept up their pace like this, they’d find you soon. Hopefully the men Jooheon employed would be successful, and hopefully the men Hyungwon sent out would find something.

Suddenly, food seemed more appetizing, and Hyungwon was able to realize just how hungry he really was. He nearly scarfed down the soup Kihyun put in front of him, burning his tongue in the process.

The bad news came after dinner. One by one, the men that were sent out came back with their reports, none of them having found anything. It was near 1am when the last pair came back, and that was when Hyungwon lost his patience.

“We’re sorry boss, but there’s nothing. There was no trace of any living thing, and no one’s been there in years.” The taller one lamented. Unfortunately for him, Hyungwon had a glass of wine in his hand. The deep red liquid soaked the other man’s clothes, staining the small patches of white.

After pouring the liquid on the man, Hyungwon threw the glass against the wall. It shattered, much like the vase from earlier did. No one dared to say a word as Hyungwon forced himself to calm down. “Keep. Looking.” He gritted out through his teeth.

“H.One,” Kihyun put his hand on Hyungwon’s arm, “settle down. There’s still time. You know she’s alive. It’s okay. We’ll get to her. You need to be patient. Anger isn’t going to get you anywhere useful.” Kihyun paused, waiting for a reply from his friend. When the only thing he got was the death stare, he sighed. “Okay, come on, let’s get you to your room. You need to sleep.”

Hyungwon let Kihyun pull him away. He knew he needed to calm down, but he felt that no one understood just how dire the situation was. The colors were fading for fucks sake! Your life was in danger! The only way he could communicate this was through violence. Nothing would be getting done if he was sitting around dilly dallying and being patient.

Kihyun pushed Hyungwon onto the bed, demanding for him to sleep. “Don’t make me have to knock you out, because I will.” He threatened, leaving Hyungwon alone in his room.

He really did try to sleep. In fact, he had almost been asleep, but then pain shot through his body, stemming from his arm. He shot up, gasping for air. Something was happening to you. Someone was hurting you, and he couldn’t be there to stop it.

The pain was unrelenting, steadily growing worse as each second passed. A scream bubbled up in his chest, forcing its way out. He scrambled off the bed, hitting the floor with a loud thud. He couldn’t get up, he could only howl in agony as he curled in on himself. His hands buried themselves deep into his hair, tugging viciously as a way to try and distract him from the sharp throbs in his arm.

He could understand now, why it was so dangerous to separate soulmates, why those in power were willing to split the universe to get their partner back. It ached. It mutilated his body and soul. He could only imagine how much worse it was for you.

No one dared to come in and check on him. They knew there was nothing they could do to help him. The only they could do was help to get you back, then everyone’s suffering could end. His followers would do anything he needed them to, anything to help him. They pledged their loyalty to him, and that loyalty extended to you.

The pain started recede marginally, but it was hardly noticeable. Hyungwon wept, cursing the universe for doing this to you, for taking you away.

When he finally began to calm down and open his eyes, he fainted. In the seconds before he lost consciousness, all he saw was black and white. The world had lost its color.

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a-queer-seminarian · 6 years

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a masterpost of all the sermons i’ve preached

just because i feel like having them all in one place!

all of these links lead to audio of me preaching and a transcipt of the sermon. i include an excerpt from each sermon, and i’ve put the titles of the sermons i’m proudest of in bold.

“The Neighbors Nobody Wants,” Luke 10:25-37

My first sermon! Preached at University Presbyterian Church (now called Grace Presbyterian Church) on July 20, 2016

How often have you put the word Christian in quotation marks when you’re talking about “those Christians”, you know the ones, who claim to serve God with one breath and oppress LGBT people with the next! Those “Christians,” who drive anyone different from them away from their churches and refuse to bake cakes for same sex couples — we put them in quotation marks because we all know they’re not really Christians, am I right? Wrong. Their perspectives may range from mildly dissimilar to fundamentally at odds with our own when it comes to various issues, and yet — we share a God with them. We share a Savior with them, and even more intimately, a Body. They may not like it any more than we do, but we are all part of the Body of Christ. This is even more intimate than being neighbors with them, which is pretty intimate in itself — this is a matter of beating as one heart, listening for the same voice with the same ears, walking the earth with the same feet. It’s hard to admit it, but these are neighbors we have turned away from, have given up on. And these are also neighbors who have been the robbers in our own stories, beating us and denouncing us for being LGBT or even just supporting those who are. And maybe we have good reason for calling them “false” Christians — maybe we do it because they first did it to us. But if any healing will ever happen in this beautiful, bruised, broken Body of Christ, both sides need to drop the quotation marks. No more Christians versus “Christians.” Because what right do we have to judge who is or isn’t really Christian?

“Silence,” Esther 8:9-14

Preached at Louisville Seminary chapel for its More Light (LGBT) service, October 2016

Listen. I know how your heart speeds up when you try to speak up— my heart does too. I know the lump that forms in your throat (that’s Silence, trying to stop you from speaking) and when you speak anyway, maybe people will be mad. Maybe you’ll have to fight. Maybe you’ll even lose. But speak anyway. And if you have to fight, then fight not with swords but with words, not with violence but with love and truth. If we speak, the scars of silences once carried will map themselves into a vision of a future where no one needs to bury themselves to stay alive.

“Called from Conformity into Renewal,” Romans 12 (only a transcript for this one)

Preached at Louisville Seminary chapel for its preach-in service in solidarity with Princeton Theological Seminary during their preach-in in protest of raising the voice of Tim Keller, who is against LGBT+ people and women being ordained, on their campus; April 2017

“Do not be conformed to this world,” they reminded me. “This world,” according to them, was one that was all too lax in terms of sexuality and gender. “This world” celebrated being LGBT to the point that it was practically a trend, so that everyone these days thought they were gay or bi or ace or trans. Wow, I would love to find “this world” these guys claimed to be living in.

“Taking Up the Cross and Finding Life,” Mark 8:27-36 (link leads to a video and transcript instead of audio)

Preached at Louisville Seminary chapel for its More Light (LGBT) service, October 2017

The world tells me these things — my gender, my love— are just my cross to bear – and to bury, that I need to suffer because somehow these things are sins, that’s right – my love, love! the pair of wings God fixed on my shoulders to help me fly to Them is actually a heavy weight, a sin, a sickness – but God knows I have seen far too many of my people nail themselves to that cross, bleed out as you watched to think for a moment that God is the one who placed that cross on our shoulders.

“Song in Babylon: Joy as Resistance,” Jeremiah 29

Preached at Covenant Community Church in Louisville on November 26, 2017

Maybe sometimes, resistance is not about big actions, about battles, about outright rebellion. Maybe sometimes, resistance is the simple decision to keep living, to not give those who would see you crushed the satisfaction. God is asking Their chosen to do the impossible -- to keep on farming and having families right there in exile -- because God knows this is what will enable them to survive. God tells the people to multiply in Babylon, and not to decrease – because choosing to waste away in their grief, to flicker and fade into nothing while they wait for God to lead them home, would be the act of surrender. To plant and grow, to celebrate marriages and births and the simple pleasures of daily life – that is the act of resistance.

“Talking to Strangers,” John 4:1-30, 39-42

Preached at Covenant Community Church in Louisville on January 28, 2018

I invite you to imagine the kind of person you would be shocked to be asked for something from. For me, it would be a certain brand of Christian. For an extreme version, think of a Westboro Baptist Christian, who literally wants people like me dead. For a less extreme version, I think of my girlfriend’s parents, who shudder at the mere mention of me. I can’t imagine them asking me for water, making me aware of their need. And besides, wouldn’t sharing a cup with me give them, like, queer cooties or something? Reverse the image, now. Whom would you never be caught dead asking for something from? Would I dare to ask one of those types of Christians for water? Or would I decide there’s no use asking, of course they’d never share with the likes of me. Why should I put myself at their mercy like that only to be turned down?

“ ‘Who Sinned?’ -- Re-thinking Disability and Centering the Marginalized in Their Own Stories,” John 9:1-38

Preached at Covenant Community Church in Louisville on February 11, 2018

One of the stranger conversations I’ve had in my life involved me mentioning to an acquaintance that I was autistic. I was not prepared for their response: “Oh no! What happened?”I had no clue what answer they were expecting. What happened? Um...I was born?

“I AM the Light of the World,” John 8:12-18

Preached at Covenant Community Church in Louisville on February 25, 2018

The light that Jesus brings is not always comfortable. It’s the dentist’s lamp that sears into your eyes, makes your pupils shrink in pain – but is necessary as something that can illuminate the dark recesses of your mouth. Without that light, the dentist won’t be able to identify the buildup of plaque, the wearing down of gums, the signs of cavity. It’s not about judging what you’ve done to your teeth – it’s about making things right. Are you ready to let that light into your life? Are you ready for the transformation it brings?

“I AM the Vine,” John 15

Preached at Covenant Community Church in Louisville on March 25, 2018

Saint Catherine of Siena, a nun from the fourteenth century, has a slightly different vision of what it means for Jesus and humanity to be joined as one plant; here are her words: “And you, high eternal Trinity, ...When you saw that this tree could bear no fruit but the fruit of death because it was cut off from you who are life, you came to its rescue with the same love with which you had created it: you engrafted your divinity into the dead tree of our humanity.” ...I appreciate Saint Catherine’s conception of grafting [because] grafting together plants of a different species is tricky business; often,the two prove to be incompatible. But in this story we find that, by some miracle, divinity and humanity are two compatible “plants,” that somehow, our created state can be joined to our Creator’s state. ...

"The Remorseful Cry,” 2 Samuel 18 (that link leads to the transcript; see here for a video recording)

Preached in my basic preaching class on April 1, 2018

We are called to an expansive love, a love that cares for our most distant neighbor as much as our closest friend, a love that extends even over our enemy. If we love in this way, things will get much more complicated, and much messier. After all, if we love the casual acquaintance at work and the stranger on the street as truly as we love our sibling or parent or partner, we’ll be compelled to look and notice how our individual decisions are affecting their lives. We will find that our tiny sphere of personal relationships creates ripples that spread much further out.

“The Wounds of Jesus: Goodness Embodied,” John 20

Preached at Covenant Community Church in Louisville on April 8, 2018

Christianity has been deeply influenced by the dualism of Greco-Roman thought, which claims that the spiritual is good and the physical is bad, that we are most godly when we can escape the “cage” of bodily desires. We strip all manner of physicality from our conceptions of heaven, letting it become some abstract realm in the clouds where spirits whiz around free of their bodies. And I totally get the appeal of this vision of heaven – there is a lot that I do not love about my own body. People gender me wrong because of it, for one thing; and it’s susceptible to pain; and my skin and eyes and ears are overly sensitive, often leading to distress; and I absolutely hate getting sick, who doesn’t? ...But this favoring of the spiritual over the physical, glorifying the former and demonizing the latter, cannot be the whole picture – not when God shaped those bodies in the Beginning and called them Good; not when Jesus rose from the dead not only spiritually but bodily.

“Jesus Gets Schooled,” Mark 7:1-8, 15, 24-30

Preached at Covenant Community Church in Louisville on May 6, 2018

In this story the humanity of our divine-and-human Jesus is at the forefront. At first it shows us the ugliest parts of that humanity, the tendency towards prejudice that all of us have...but, thanks to his willingness to hear the woman out we will see this ugliness transform into one of the most beautiful parts of human nature: the ability to learn, to change our minds, to improve ourselves.

“When the Good News Feels Like Bad News,” Amos 7:7-15 and Mark 6:14-29

Preached at Grace Presbyterian Church in Tuscaloosa on July 15, 2008

Following in the footsteps of the prophets is no easy thing – it’s an often uncomfortable, sometimes dangerous or costly, frequently thankless task. People receive the good news like it is bad news – because from the perspective of the world, it is. God’s good news of social norms turned on their heads, of liberation of those who are dehumanized and exploited, demands major changes, changes that will come with losses. We may lose some friendships, some comforts, some unfair advantages in order to reach the new heaven and earth. We will all die a little before we are raised up utterly transformed.

“Radical Rest: The Fourth Commandment,” Exodus 20:1-11

Preached at Covenant Community Church in Louisville on August 19, 2018

It’s my favorite of the Ten Commandments, even though I cannot claim to follow it very well. Who can, these days? Who can say they take off a whole day every week just to rest? It’s impossible, for most of us. ...And that’s why I love the command to rest one day every week: I love it because it seems impossible. Because if we were to achieve it, it would be a radical thing. Because God does not instruct us to have this Sabbath rest only for ourselves, but for “you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns.” In the days of the Bible, children were subject to the whims of their father, livestock to their farmers, slaves to their masters–they could only rest if he said they could. ... For God to declare that these people must be allowed to rest alongside the people in power is a command for equity, for justice.

#worship #sermon tag #sermons #log #masterpost

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blessedarethebinarybreakers · 6 years

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URGENT ISH: I do need this answered somewhat quickly (before/by June 7th & I'm really sorry, I know it takes a lot to run this blog, but this is a last minute thing), but my pastor & I are planning to work on a sermon together this pride month that I'll be giving (I'm not a pastor) & I wanted to see if anyone had any specific affirming verses, quotes from books/pastors/etc., that you/your followers think would be great for a day dedicated to affirmation of queer ppl in the bible/the church THANK

Hey there, sorry I am only just seeing this! I’m gonna post it to see if anyone has responses for you. Here are mine:

From the Bible:

See this collection of affirming Bible passages I gathered a long while back

Galatians 3:28 – “there is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Jesus Christ.”

Habakkuk 2:1-5

Mary’s magnificat in Luke 1 (upturn the status quo!! raise up the lowly!)

Other quotes:

“I grew up being taught that pride was a sin, perhaps the root of sin. Pride was the opposite of humility. But when we speak of Pride Month, pride is not the opposite of humility—it is the opposite of shame.Researcher Brené Brown writes, “Shame is the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging.” (Daring Greatly, 69.)When we feel pride—school pride, pride in our culture, or LGBTQ pride—we are saying that we are part of something good that makes us connected. We belong.”- Ben Barczi (Spiritual Director, Pastor, and Author in Portland, Oregon)

“Sometimes, even for a bishop, it’s embarrassing to be a Christian. Not that I’m embarrassed by Jesus, whose life was spent caring and advocating for the marginalized, and whom I believe to be the perfect revelation of God. I’m just sometimes embarrassed to be associated with others who claim to follow him.The Jesus I follow always stood with the poor and powerless — and trust me, this struggle is about about power. Whether the issue touches women or gays and lesbians, our religion should be about more love, not less; more dignity, not less.” - The Right Reverend V. Gene Robinson

This quote

“In my view the cries of the poor and the oppressed are the cries of God. That means that not only God hears those cries or that God has implanted those cries in the hearts of those who cannot bear injustice, but that God becomes the poor and the oppressed and the downtrodden.So when we respond to the cries of the poor and oppressed in the world, we are responding to the agony of God, to the outrage of God; we are responding to the wounding of God. John Calvin says, ‘Every act of injustice, every bit of damage that is done to any of God’s children, any hurt inflicted on any of God’s children is a wound on God’s self. So doing injustice is wounding God. Undoing injustice is healing the wounds of God.’”- Allan Boesak, “Walking Humbly with God in a Scandalous World”

This quote

“I’ve been thinking a lot about how queer Christians read the Bible during Pride and how we practice the tenets of our faith. What does loving God look like for me as a queer person? Even though I still won’t agree with everything he wrote, Paul does say this, “Love should be shown without pretending. Hate evil, and hold on to what is good. Love each other like the members of your family. Be the best at showing honor to each other” (Romans 12:9-10, CEB). As an action, this love looks like caring for God’s creations. It means that I’m listening to trans women of color, protesting unjust laws, showing up for queer youth, or sending silly mail to my friends to encourage them. This is how I follow Christ. I take care of creation, I don’t judge, and through giving love, I am able to feel Christ’s love all the more in my own life.”- Alaina Monts in this article

“The church is God saying: ‘I’m throwing a banquet, and all these mismatched, messed-up people are invited. Here, have some wine.’” - Rachel Held Evans

The opening page of Coming Out As Sacrament

“Who would stick around to wrestle a dark angel all night long if there were any chance of escape? The only answer I can think of is this: someone in deep need of blessing; someone willing to limp forever for the blessing that follows the wound.” - Barbara Brown Taylor in Learning to Walk in the Dark

“In all times and in all places Christ stands in solidarity with the marginalised and oppressed. In a homophobic and heterosexist world Christ demands that his Church follow him in aligning himself with the queer cause and detecting his presence in that community.”- Elizabeth Stuart, “Christianity Is A Queer Thing”, on the writings of Robert Goss

This article!! Particularly this quote: "I say that for queer Christians, it’s not about asking of straight folks “please, let us in to your churches,” it’s about offering “Hey, you’re invited to come hang out us with us because this is where God is.” And the same is true of cisgender LGB Christians. We shouldn’t care about transgender people and issues because we pity them or because it’s fashionable and we can get a book deal or speaking gigs or a lot of likes on our Facebook posts… We should be invested because transgender people bring something critical to the table and we are not whole without them.“

I would love an update on how the sermon / service goes! Best of luck to you! :)

#affirmation #youaremyforeverpromise #queerly christian asks #quote tag

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