#but i have since embraced the view that he knew religion was crazy and wanted to make sure that everyone else knew that before signing up
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The Mormon Heretic Casts a Curse
So, this is a sequel piece to The Mormon Heretic and the Leviathan. @apolloendymion requested that I write some more of the stories, and this is another one. I'm going to put a trigger warning here that the story does involve partner abuse. Not from the heretic, but just... as a detail. Also, I guess, some medical stuff that involves death.
It's Old Testament shit. Take it as you will.
Mormon seminary has four separate courses about the four separate parts of their canon. It’s on a constant rotation, and my particular ordering was Old Testament, then New Testament, then Book of Mormon, then Doctrine and Covenants.
I got the Mormon Heretic for my OT year, which is 100% the best year I could have possibly got him for. And, also, absolutely the worst, because at that time I was a very orthodox Mormon, and this guy couldn’t have fucked with my brain worse if JFK’s dad gave him an icepick and a waiver.
At that time I had an abysmal understanding of the OT, and to call my experience with it jarring would be an understatement. I learned that Elohim is a plural word. I learned that OT God itself doesn’t deny the existence of other Gods, and in fact relished challenging them to contests. The whole experience was so insane to me that I stayed after class one day to ask the teacher how he managed to bridge the divide between the OT and the NT. They're insanely different theologies, and he really refused to mince words about it.
He listened to my concerns, and I cried a little because I was fourteen and beginning to realize that there was something fundamentally wrong with the religion I was born into, and when it was all said and done he said that tomorrow he would teach the story of how he squared away the differences between OT God and NT God.
And he did.
I can remember having a sense that something was strange when we arrived at the building. There was a crosswalk where the exiting teenagers would pass the entering teenagers, and normally people would discuss the lesson as they passed. The group we passed just looked shell shocked.
I sat down. The class arrived. Heretic stood up, and went to the front of the class, and he began his tale:
He had a little sister that got married at nineteen. She then started making visits to the hospital.
He, like his family, assumed that she was just clumsy. He was clumsy. He’d had multiple surgeries on his shoulders and his elbows and his knees because he kept doing dumb things to himself.
She was not clumsy. Her husband was beating her.
She got a divorce. Heretic was old when the story was being told - I think in his early sixties? - and the divorce went shockingly well for the time. Sister was not blamed, husband was ostracized from both families, and life found a way to continue in its slow way.
Heretic was, at that point, a new teacher in the Church Education System (CES). He was trying to be a spiritual guy, and teach spiritual lessons, but he just wasn’t doing a very good job because he was really, really, murderously angry with the guy that had hurt his sister.
Sister had moved on. Or, he thought she had, he was hardly telepathic, but he felt like she’d let go and started her life anew, and her parents had supported her, and even her in laws had supported her, and things should have been easy to let go of, but they weren’t. And every day that he tried to let go, he got more and more angry, and every day he tried to pretend he was fine he ripped the wound wider, and one day he taught a spectacularly bad lesson and came home and wanted nothing more than to kill the man that had beat his sister.
He instead said a prayer. I cannot quote it verbatim, but this is very, very close to what was said.
“God, I know that I must forgive to be forgiven, but I want nothing more than to see that animal choke to death on his own shit.”(I know for a fact that the choke on shit part was in it. It is not a common thing to hear a seminary teacher say “shit” in the middle of class. It is also integral to the rest of the story)
If this was a book, there would’ve been an immediate result, but instead Heretic felt a strange peace, grabbed ahold of it like a lifeline, and resolved to go to therapy. Which is how he got into Jungian analysis. Finding therapy in the deep South in 1980 was pretty wild.
Jump cut forward to the early 2000s. Heretic has moved on. Sister is remarried. He is at peace with the world, but he gets a call from his sisters old in-laws.
And the in-laws say that yes, they have ostracized the abuser for the last twenty years, but they got a call from him a few hours ago to please, meet him at the hospital, because he was sick.
And the abuser was, in fact, very sick. He’d been vomiting for days. The doctors couldn’t figure out why, but they knew that at the present rate, they were running out of time. He was going to have some kind of exploratory surgery as a hail Mary, and the guy wanted a blessing first.
And so the family had gone to Heretic, to ask him if he would be willing to bless the man that had beat his sister.
It is one thing, to feel like you have forgiven someone enough to move on, and another to wish good things upon them. But Heretic had spent years and years in therapy, and he developed on an incredibly spiritual path, and he said that yes, he would bless the man before the surgery.
And he did.
The surgery found that the man had a benign mass in his colon. It wasn’t spreading, but it had grown large enough to prevent food from going around it. Without an exit, things had built up back to the entrance. The man was throwing up because there was nowhere else for the shit to go. Worse, during the surgery he thrown up and some of the mix had managed to drain back into the man’s lungs. He survived the knife, but the combination of fecal matter and acid inside his lungs had created an infection that he failed to survive. He drowned in his own fluids.
He drowned in his own shit.
Now, at that point, the class had no idea where this was going. We were a bunch of children, hearing a story about this insane divine retribution, but the Heretic continued.
And with tears in his eyes, he told us that God had answered his original prayer only after he had fully and truly forgiven that man. That if he’d wished death on another human being in anger, in rage, and then received it, it would have damned his soul, but that as soon as he was at peace, as soon as he could wish life and love upon the man that had wronged his kin, justice could be brought down. And be believed it, with his entire heart. He spoke about how God wants to give us what we want, but that he loves us so much that we will not give it to us until we have reached the point where it is not poison to us. We will have our revenge, but only when it is meaningless to us. When the only lesson that could be grabbed from it is that God heard us the first time, and held back out of love. Then, we will see those who had wronged us choke on their shit.
The bell rang after that, and we left the class in a daze. When we went across the crosswalk, no one spoke a word to the students crossing the opposite way. We were all too busy thinking.
#mormon#mormonism#exmormon#seminary#i still dont know what to think about this#i dont believe in god but i almost want to believe in the maniac this guy believes in#some people just ignore the OT/NT divide but this guy jumped it and did a triple backflip on a motorcycle#i miss him#I have considered that this guy was an atheist trying to make other people realize that religion was crazy#but i have since embraced the view that he knew religion was crazy and wanted to make sure that everyone else knew that before signing up#because he knew that#to him the ultimate tragedy would be think you loved the church without even knowing it first
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Texts I sent a friend the first time I watched The Boys, Season 2:
- Gird your loins
- I’m dying to know more about Black Noir
- Ugh ffs Homelander smarming about on stage at Translucents funeral
- It’s an empty box but I suppose how would people know cause invisible corpse
- WHY IS ANNIE SINGING AT THE INVISIBLE PERVS FUNERAL
- Aw no straight in with Sad Kevin
- Oh ok angry drunk Kevin
- Ugh not these Samaritans Embrace fuckers again
- Oh Annie. Parroting the company line. I hope she’s gonna fuck them all over
- SAD HUGHIE OH NO
- BILLY JOOOOOELLLL
- Aw Kimiko is learning
- Her lil smile
- Oooh Hughie is a liiiiiar
- Meeting on the subway like a couple shifty teenagers
- Oh I forgot they microchipped the supes like dogs
- Oh nooooo young love angst
- Oh no a Sad Kevin incident
- Aaaaand he’s been arrested
- A nice archer bailed him out
- Omfg the fake Butcher re-enactment
- Oh do NOT tell me this crazy bastard is gonna drink the frozen breast milk
- Oh fuck he is
- What the FUCK, HOMELANDER
- This visually impaired ninja seems nice
- That probably means he’s gonna turn out to be a dick
- OH FUCK
- Homelander what the fuuuuuck
- Ok what the shit is happening here in the motel
- WHAT
- What the fuuuuuck
- I – MM is making a dolls house? That’s so cute
- Oh shit smuggled people
- Homelander is nuts with power
- Uhhhh who is Carol and why is she staring at Kevin while he sleeps
- Finally an archer who is honest about how useless they can be once they run out of arrows
- Oh noooo are they gonna try brainwash Kevin with homeopathic stuff? And why do they keep offering him Fresca
- OH FUCK ME NOT ANOTHER RELIGION THING
- Oh Hughie has grown a pair since last season. Good for him
- Where’s Butcherrrrrrrr
- Body gore porn dude is called Gecko that’s too cute a name for him
- Stormfront seems like fun
- She’s gonna be pissing off Homelander so much I like her already
- OH WHAT THE FUCK THE CIA LADYS HEAD EXPLODED
- I like Stan
- Giving Homelander the dressing down he needs
- I know it’s convenient for Toni to wear the padded suit all the time but does Homelander ever wear anything else
- Oh hiiii Becca I still think you’re a bitch and Butcher deserved better
- BUTCHERRRRR YASSSSS
- “Daddy’s home”
- I’m dead. It’s official.
- The fuckin smirk and the voice I’m fuckin dead
- OH NO KEVIN IS TRYING THE CHURCH THING
- Is he making shroom tea
- Why is Patton Oswalt voicing Kevin’s gills this is delightful
- Atrain is awake again that’s not good
- I’m cracking up at Sad Kevin and his singing gills
- Homelander is gone way off the deep end oh boy
- Awwww soft Maeve in the hospital with her girlfriend
- I want to like Becca but I can’t shake the bad feeling
- Homelander is a terrible father
- I mean I know he has no role models to base his parenting on, but yikes
- It’s like if Scar was raising Simba instead of Mufasa
- ….are the gang raiding a party city store
- I love how Frenchie always looks a mix of horrified and amazed whenever Kimiko kills someone
- AWWW IT’S HER BROTHER YAY
- Oh shiiiiiiiit
- Butcher STOP JUST SHOOTING PEOPLE
- You were right this season is weird
- I like Kimiko’s brothers bedazzled denim jacket
- Butcher don’t punch Hughie wtf
- Starting with Hughie listening to the same song again, nice
- Butcher is terrible at apologising it’s so cute
- I’m sorry did Hughie just fall over trying to throw a punch
- The kid’s a dandelion omg
- Why are they on a boat? Did Karl just decide “I like being on boats lemme go on a boat”?
- I see what you mean about Homelander being scary
- He’s completely insane
- Why does this storyboard guys shirt say assbinder
- Chace Crawford is an excessively veiny man
- BLACK NOIR IS CRYING
- Or possibly laughing
- Hard to tell when they have no face
- Annie actually leaked all the compound V stuff good for her
- FRENCHIE KISSED HUGHIE
- Homelander is gonna get this kid killed tryna make him fly
- Honestly the kid looks more like Hughie
- OH MY GOD HE PUSHED HIM OFF THE ROOF
- OH MY SWEET FUCKING JESUS HOMELANDER YOU CAN’T DO THAT
- Oop there’s the laser eyes
- Oh Homelander is back at the Tower and freaking Maeve out
- OH FUCK THE BROTHER IS LOOSE
- Hughie don’t do it
- Oh ok I thought he was gonna jump off the boat
- Kevin and the cult weirdos are up to something
- Hughie no you don’t call the girl you like crying over Billy Joel lyrics
- Oh god boyo you don’t then drop the L word in the same voice message!
- He’s hopeless
- Oh nooooo Kevin is attacking the boat goddammit Kevin
- OH FUCK A WHALE
- For fuck sake Kevin
- Ewwwww
- Butcher what the fuck
- Hughie having a nervous breakdown inside of a whale
- No but why is Karl so hot covered in blood
- Actually I didn’t even need to include the blood part of that question
- Oh boy here we go, the 7 show up to find Sad Kevin crying over spilt whale
- ….why is Stormfront tryna get all up in Homelander’s ass?? I thought she was cool but now she’s all lemme suck that radioactive dick
- OH NO
- Poor Kevin he’s worked so hard to accept his gills and now Homelander has knocked him back down
- Oooo dear Atrain is having a heart attack again this isn’t good
- Oh fuck is Hughie gon get caught
- Oh no it’s Annie it’s ok
- OH FUCK
- ANNIE WHY
- THAT’S YOUR HUGHIE
- OH MAN KIMIKO’S BROTHER IS BADASS YES SQUASH THE SMUG PRICK
- Oh I do NOT like Stormfront holy fuckin shit what’s wrong with this woman
- Poor Kimiko
- What’s with the random woman talking about calling off her wedding?
- Why is Frenchie taking drugs
- FUCK SAKE FRENCHIE DON’T TRY KISS A GIRL WHEN SHE’S GRIEVING
- What the FUCK is thiiiiis
- Is he dreaming or is this the shapeshifter tryna stay alive by granting Homelander some sick wish
- Yikes I feel bad for Doppelganger
- I am fascinated by whoever and whatever the fuck Black Noir is
- MM sees right through everyone’s bullshit
- I feel so bad for Annie
- Ooooo Atrain getting fired
- MM having to put up with Hughie and Annie having a we didn’t start the fire singalong 😂
- Ok who’s in the weird group therapy sesh with these women with strange views on love
- Vending machine date so cute
- Omfg ahahahaha the girl with the Ed Sheeran tattoo
- I really want to like Becca cause she stands up to Homelander but I can’t shake the suspicions about her
- I feel bad for Butcher
- Homelander is a scary good liar
- Oh shit interviewer lady is pulling out the diversity questions
- OH FUCK
- HE’S OUTED MAEVE
- Poor Maeve what the fuck
- Ugh Stormfront
- Shut your racist hole bitch
- Oh shit Kimiko on the warpath
- Frenchie! Kimiko listen to him he’s tryna help
- MM is doing a lotta sharing this episode
- Ohhhh something bad is gonna come out about this Liberty lady they’re looking for oh fuck
- Wait WHAT. STORMFRONT IS LIBERTY
- Stormfront is like 70????
- She’s really good with social media for an old bird
- Ohhh fuck Homelander is pisssssssssed
- Christ you’d know Homelander was an only child
- Bitch you better not be fucking Butcher over
- I FUCKIN KNEW IT
- BECCA YOU RAGING BITCH
- Got her goodbye fuck then called the supercops on him cause he’s a little broken? FUCK BECCA
- Oh no Annie don’t give Hughie the “we can’t do this” talk
- Pick your emo ass up and stop being melodramatic
- All these women are chatting to Kevin?? Why??
- Also this most recent one is super weird
- THEY WERE INTERVIEWING TO BE KEVINS WIFE
- This cult thing is so fuckin weird omfg
- KEVIN GET YOUR SAD BUTT OUT OF THE CULT
- Oh gross not the Doppelganger shit again
- Doppelganger is really bad at flirting
- ….
- WHAT THE SHIT
- Nonononono don’t do the selfcest
- Not even Homelander is that fucked up
- This is super weird
- Why is Homelander crying
- OH SHIT HE KILLED HIM
- Uhhhh are they doing a lesbian scene in a vcu movie
- Christ that was terrible and way too on the nose
- “Strong female lesbians”
- Homelander you himbo fuck what other kind of lesbian do you get
- I feel bad for Ashley
- She just wants to do her job well
- Poor Butcher. His lil heart is broken
- Oh no baby you’re hurt and upset? That’s so sad let me suck your dick about it
- Oh no what’s he gonna do
- BUTCHER WHAT THE SHIT
- I mean it’s really fuckin hot but still
- There’s always a cut on the cheekbone
- “They’ve been moving her around like a Catholic priest” omg HUGHIE
- Aww he called Hughie his canary
- Oh shit are Frenchie and Kimiko missing?
- KEVIN GOT MARRIED
- BILLY HAS AN AUNTIE
- Doggiiiiie
- Awwwww soft Butcher with his dog
- Aaaand now I feel bad for Atrain cause he’s being kicked to the curb
- Oh gross this interview with Kevin and his cult wife
- This is so cringe holy fuck
- Bring back the Patton Oswalt gills
- Why are the gangsters discussing musicals specifically Hamilton
- FUCKING HELL KIMIKO PEELED OFF THAT GUYS FACE
- Ahahaha the boys showed up at Butchers aunties house
- The dog’s name is Terror that’s so cute
- Hahahaha Hughie was holding the fuck pig
- Why is there a sniper on the roof
- Oh shit it’s Black Noir
- Ugh what does Annie’s mom want and why is Stormfront being her friend
- Oh hey it’s dickless
- These two writer dudes are hella irritating
- Poor Elena getting dragged into this shit
- Yes Maeve scheme against his ass
- Heartbroken Butcher is so tired
- He needs a hug
- Hughie give Butcher a hug please
- Why is Kimiko in a church
- Oh hey its Frenchie’s other girlfriend
- Oh ok Kimiko is doing hits that’s fair
- The old man just looking away like “I do not see it”
- Aw no Frenchie don’t break up with Kimiko
- Oh fuck off Cult Kevin
- Stormfront again?????
- Does this bitch ever fuck off
- DID SHE JUST CALL ATRAIN GARBAGE
- Wait why is Homelander giving an unapproved speech
- This is gonna end in someone getting murdered isn’t it
- OH FUCK
- That’s a lot more murder than I expected
- Ohhhh phew ok he was just daydreaming
- Ashley is gonna go bald from stress
- I adore grumpy Butcher
- Omg auntie Judy is a drug dealer I love her
- Ohhhh shit Homelander is having a nervous breakdown
- BOBBY FROM X-MEN????
- Uhhhh why is Homelander talking to Stormfront this can’t be good
- Ooh MM set a trap this gon be good
- BUTCHER HAS A BROTHER???? THAT HUGHIE IS LIKE
- Oop Lenny is dead
- The random explosions as Black Noir trips the traps
- Oh shit Butcher locked the others out to face Black Noir alone
- YES MM
- OH NO MM
- YES HUGHIE
- Oh fuck did he KO Butcher
- Shiiiit shit shit shit
- Yes Butcher save your Hughie
- Oh good they all survived
- For fuck sake Kevin stop with the cult shit
- Maeve please save Kevin from the cult
- Annie why are you sneaking around don’t do it
- There’s a lot of shots of Annie’s bum
- What the fuck is Sage Grove
- Stormfront needs to go choke on a bag of dicks
- Oh fuck no not Homelander again
- Uhhhhhhh
- Stormfront x Homelander was not what I was expecting
- These two have the WEIRDEST relationship
- They’re gonna do some really fucked up supe bdsm shit aren’t they
- Frenchie is Betty White. Fair enough
- Wait what is happening. Why is Annie letting Frenchie at her with a lil saw
- Ohhh the chip
- “This might sting a little” FRENCHIE IT’S A FUCKIN SAW
- Oh fuck that’s a big chip
- Oh look it’s loves psychotic dream
- Well that’s suitably gross
- Aww Kimiko hugging Annie
- Butcher is so menacing I love him
- Kevin tryna be helpful to his buddies he’s so cute
- NO! NO BAD KEVIN! STOP TRYING TO MAKE PEOPLE JOIN YOUR CULT
- Kimiko with her brass knuckle
- Oh man, flowers??? Homelander has it BAD
- Annie back the fuck off and leave Butcher alone
- OH SHIT IT’S STORMFRONT AT THE HOSPITAL NOOOO
- What the fuck is going on at this hospital
- OH FUCK BOBBY FROM X-MEN IS LAMPLIGHTER
- Oh shit who got let out
- What does Cindy do
- OH SHIT SHE’S THE HEAD BURSTER
- Aaaaaaand now they’re all out
- Good job, guys
- Ewwwwww acid vomit
- OH NO HUGHIE
- Are you kidding me?? Annie can’t go all Starlight unless there’s a power source in the immediate vicinity??
- What kinda fuckin shite superpower is that
- Aha Butcher agrees with me
- Ok so I’m guessing Homelander went berserk on set
- Uhhhh apparently Cult Lunch is a therapy sesh?
- Atrain get outta there
- This cult leader guy is an arsehole
- Hospital escape lookin like a horror survival game
- Awwww flashbacks to happy times
- Omfg Butcher with the slicked back hair
- Welp, Annie just killed a guy
- Oh shit a baby seat
- Annie is gonna have a bad case of the guilts now
- Oh fuck ok Lamplighter killed the kids by accident
- So Frenchie went to save his friend instead of tailing
- Oh god that’s the penis isn’t it
- Stormfront to the…rescue? Maybe? She’s gonna kill Lamplighter isn’t she
- Oh, no ok she didn’t kill him
- Aw no sad Butcher cause Hughie’s hurt
- Oh nooooo Elena found a video from the plane
- Mallory gon kill sad Lamplighter?
- Stormfront is coming clean to Homelander? Whaaaa
- She was buddies with the Nazis??? SHE WAS MARRIED TO THE VOUGHT FOUNDER GUY
- Oh fuck the head burster is still alive
- A montage of how Stormfront is brainwashing people into racist attacks, nice
- I hate Annie’s mom so much
- Black Noir has just fuckin LAMPED Annie
- Butchers mum called him 😂😂
- Oh shit his dad died
- Why are Hughie and Lamplighter watching knock off supe porn
- Oh boy a racist rally
- Homelander just threw Annie under the bus
- Hughie that’s a really weird pep talk
- And he’s gonna get Lamplighter killed
- BUTCHERS MUM IS ADORABLE
- Oh shit it’s Denethor
- And he’s not dead
- Oh fuck he’s why Lenny died?
- Shit Lenny shot himself
- Butcher was SAS???
- WHERE ARE MY PICS OF BUTCHER IN HIS ARMY UNIFORM
- Ah fuck he’s bringing stepmommy Stormfront to meet the kid
- I have an urge to run my fingers through Butchers beard
- Frenchie and Kimiko are too cute she’s teaching him her sign language
- Is this a cult birthday party?
- Poor Eagle the Archer. He pissed off the cult so he’s gon be excommunicated
- Uhhhh kiddo made a Lego film?
- Good for him
- I know it shouldn’t be sexy when Butcher starts threatening to brutally murder people in his growly voice, I know, but hear me out: sexy growly voice
- 11/10 would let Karl Urban murder me
- Oh FUCK Lamplighter killed himself
- Poor Hughie
- Why do all the bad things happen to him, like having to saw off a dead guy’s hand with a broken whiskey decanter
- Annie versus Black Noir, beat his/her ass girl!
- HUGHIE COME SAVE YOUR ANNIE
- YAY MAEVE
- Black Noir has an almond allergy that’s such an off the wall weakness
- Annie’s favourite chocolate bar saved her life
- Well Maeve did, technically. But still
- Omg Hughie accidentally saving Annie’s mom
- Hughie and Annie are too cute
- Oh shiiiiit Homelander screwed the pooch and showed the kid everything
- HAHA SUCK IT BECCA
- OH SHIT HEADS ARE BURSTING ALL OVER THE PLACE
- Butcher in his lil jumper
- For a non-American, this school safety psa video is supremely weird
- BOBBY FROM SUPERNATURALS CHARACTER IS CALLED BOB
- BOBBY FROM SUPERNATURALS CHARACTER IS JUST BOBBY FROM SUPERNATURAL BUT FANCY
- Annie’s mom critiquing her choice in boyfriends while in mortal danger is gas
- And typical
- The lads going nuts with weapons they’re so happy look at them
- And Butcher in his lil jumper again he looks so comfy
- I would very much like to cuddle him in the soft jumper and give him beard scritches
- Annie ffs let Hughie enjoy his Billy Joel, that’s a good choice
- Ahahaha Maeve just called Hughie a twink
- She’s not wrong
- Oh fuck off Becca
- Uuuuugh OF COURSE Mr Edgar is in with the cult
- Oop Atrain overheard all of that
- Poor Ashley she’s going bald from stress
- The kid is gonna have a meltdown
- Poor Hughie with his mom leaving
- I wonder if she’ll pop up at some point and turn out to be a supe that would be fun
- ATRAIN YOU CAN’T JUST APPEAR IN A CAR LIKE THAT YOU COULDA KILLED SOMEONE
- Hold the phone is Homelander actually being a good dad for a minute
- What the actual fuck is Stormfront on with this white genocide shit
- Ahahaha the news broke
- Uh oh the Vought soldiers got caught by Homelander
- OH SHIT
- MM BETTER BE OK
- Becca fuckin constantly squawking about Ryan is so annoying
- WHY IS KIMIKO LAUGHING
- It’s adorable but still
- Oh FUCK she snapped her neck
- She’ll be fine
- She’s like a wolverine, snapped neck won’t keep her down
- AYYYYY MAEVE
- The lads just watching them kicking the shit out of her like uhhh
- Oh hey Becca did something useful and stabbed the Nazi in the eye
- Huh. The kid melted Stormfront
- Good for him
- AHAHAHA YES HE GOT BECCA TOO
- BYEEEEE FELICIAAAAA
- I mean yeah, heartbroken sad Butcher isn’t nice to see, but Becca sucked
- Aaaand now Homelander covered in blood has arrived to listen to Stormfront babble in German
- This is like in those scenes where it’s like oh who will the dog go to
- Ayyy Atrain got back into the 7
- Aww poor Kevin getting rejected again
- See Kevin this is why we don’t join cults
- Annie thought he was breaking up with her, girl don’t be daft
- Butcher and the kid, not awkward at all
- The one lesson Butcher can teach a kid – “don’t be a cunt”
- Aww happy endings for all the boys
- Aaaaand a “happy ending” for Homelander too by the looks of it
- Oh ffs a corrupt politician in with the cult, what a surprise
- HIS HEAD BURST
- Wait the politician lady is the head burster? I’m so confused
- Confusion may have been aided by it being almost 3am
- Hughie getting a real job, bless him
- Too bad it’s with the head burster
- Oh this is such a good song to end the season with
- Welp, now begins the long wait for season 3, I guess
- Should I sleep or find fic to read
- Body says sleep, heart says fic
- That’s a lie, heart says Butcher
- ….Butcher fics it is
#theboys#theboystv#theboysmemes#theboystextposts#I'm back with more insanity#middle of the night is probably not a good time to be texting but hey ho#I'm still a shameless ho for Billy Butcher#that's so sad let me suck your dick about it#I mean like damn#Karl Urban doesn't mess around when it comes to thirst trapping#I need season 3 like yesterday#amazon please#the boys#season 3#I need it
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The Virgin Suicides (1999) is Sophia Coppola’s adaptation of the novel by Jeffery Eugenides, also being her first feature film. The inspiration for the film came from her discovery of the novel in her mid-20’s. Despite being told from a male perspective, the story still seems to be an extremely feminine yet morbid coming of age tale. Coppola never imagined becoming a filmmaker, with a focus upon fashion in her late teens into her 20’s. In an interview, she says how she wanted to make a teenage film unlike the others. “There aren’t alot of quality art films made for teenagers,” she said, which she effortlessly did, portraying themes of teen angst, sex, boys, a desire to break away from societal norms, and family. The film also was low budget, as the budget dissolved a week before filming. Coppola gives credit to the novel for inspiring her film career. Her herself was in her early 20’s, which is a period of time in which you are still trying to figure yourself out as you do in your teenage years. Reflecting upon the film 20 years later, she had came to the realization that despite the male focus upon the Lisbon girls, the film felt so personal and feminine as a reflection of her life growing up. She was always surrounded by men with all brothers and all male cousins, so she found solace in grasping to femininity. This being said, it reflects the personal touch the film has, almost bringing the viewer back to reminisce in their own days of teenage angst.
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The film encompassed everything a teenage girl experiences, but brings a situation that isn’t exemplified in the typical coming of age film. The Lisbon girls, 13 year old Cecilia, 14 year old Lux, 15 year old Bonnie, 16 year old Mary, and 17 year old Therese, lived in a home of a scholar father, and a mother who was the obvious source of dominance and constriction in the house. The girls lived an extremely strict lifestyle, never being able to have interactions outside of their home and school life, never to dress in any manner that wasn’t conservative, and especially no romantic relations. The setting of 1970’s Michigan in an extremely tight knit neighborhood made their situation stand out from the other children in the neighborhood. Everyone knew one another, even if they had never interacted; and everyone knew the mysterious Lisbon girls. The film also visits religion quite frequently. The mother, Mrs. Lisbon, is a very high strung catholic. In many scenes, starting from the very beginning there is imagery of the Virgin Mary and sigils placed seemingly everywhere. A notable symbolic image is a card of the Virgin Mary, which we see in the opening scenes as Cecelia lays unconscious in the bathtub after her first suicide attempt. The card lies on the floor, splattered in blood. The themes associated with religion seem to be displeasure and breaking away. The theme of femininity also ties into the religious aspects. Despite the girl’s disapproval yet lack of voice upon their mother’s strictness and beliefs, every religious image is very feminized. Every time we see a rosary, or crosses, they are always surrounded by jewelry, flowers, perfume, intricate glass wear, makeup or small trinkets. The ratio to these objects is usually many feminine items with just one or two religious symbols, which displays an overpowerment that they could never express themselves. There is a profound sense of freedom the girls display, yet having no freedom at all. They are restricted by the boundaries of the religious values their mother follows, yet still embrace their girlhood and find ways to enjoy their femininity despite this.
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The most profound technique I found in the film was the use of the soundtrack in accordance to each scene. For example, in this particular scene, the girls had begun to communicate with the boys through morse code; due to Lux not coming home on the night of prom, the girls were under house arrest. Lux was forced to burn all of her records, so the boys spend hours upon hours playing music through the phone for the girls. In this scene which shows a progression of the boys projecting the music overtime, and the girls listening, the song “Alone Again Naturally,” by Gilbert O’ Sullivan. Although the boys never personally knew the Lisbon girls, and had had only one interaction with them at most, there was a sense of loneliness coming from the boys as they dedicated so much time to please the girls. The girls had been granted the slightest amount of freedom to attend the dance, and because of Lux never returning home that night, they had once again returned to seclusion, but even stronger than before. In another scene, during Cecilia’s party, as she excuses herself, the song “The Air that I Breathe,” by the Hollies plays. In some sense, it acts as very ironic foreshadowing. For the entire duration of her party, Cecilia sat alone in the corner, while all of the other boys socialized with the older girls. Joe, the boy with special needs, was the only one kind enough to say hello to Cecilia and give her attention. The music abruptly stops when a sound is heard, and the father is found standing outside with Cecilia’s lifeless body impaled through a spoke in the fence.
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This scene in particular occurs directly after Trip leaves the Lisbon household after spending time with Lux as the mother sat in between them. Trip goes to his car, flustered and sits back in the seat with his head back and eyes closed, visibly flustered. From his body language, you can assume that this response was due to the lust from Lux’s embraced sexuality that she displayed very quietly so no one would catch on besides Trip. Through his car window we see the upstairs middle light turn on, which we can assume to be the parent’s bedroom. The car door opens, and Lux jumps in and immediately begins to make out with Trip. At the same time, the song “Crazy on You,” by Heart plays. The dynamic in this scene has clear sexual tension, and also highlights the theme of disobedience and teenage angst. Trip knew what he was getting himself into by trying for a girl in such a reserved family, but also with the knowledge that Lux had a personality unlike her sisters. In the reading “Pleasure in Looking/ Fascination with the Human Form,” the term scopophilia is brought up, which is the pleasure of looking. In Freudian theory, humans enjoy viewing things that bring them pleasure, and the idea of voyueristic viewing enhances this pleasure further. Cinema essentially fulfills every aspect of scopophilia; we as the viewers are watching Lux and Trip has this passionate moment, and as a viewer of two subjects within a scene, there is no possible way for them to have any knowledge of this. Having insight into an intimate moment reflects upon the viewer, and you can almost relate the the sexual tension from a personal reflection of your own experiences, and from your own teenage years.
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The film definitely acts as the most absurd coming of age movie you can get. In comparison to a film such as say, Sixteen Candles, there is no existential crisis that is met with a resolution that acts a life lesson. The boys are under the impression they will final have the moment they craved since the beginning of the film; to take the girls and run off and have what they imagined to be the time of their life. Instead, the girls had other plans the entire time. As the boys wait, each girl meets her demise. Bonnie was hanging, Therese overdoses on pills, and Lux is found with her fingers still clutching a cigarette, dead in the garage from carbon monoxide poisoning. If anything, the film is an anti coming of age film, yet the strong vibes of femininity and softness make the viewer feel as if it’s the complete opposite. Surely families exist as the Lisbon’s, yet the strong theme of escapism through death is hard to tell as the movie progresses.
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The tile of the film itself relates back to the major theme of religion. This theme doesn’t feel so prevalent aside from the imagery, but breaking it down becomes more understandable. In Catholocism, a virgin is a figure of purity, free of sin. The Virgin Mary was a saint because she was so pure, and conceived a child while never having sex, upholding her virginity. Despite Lux losing her virginity to Trip, the girls were viewed by everyone around them as completely pure girls who were perfect from their blonde hair down to their mysterious nature. All of the sisters met their demise through suicide, Cecilia being the first and the rest through a suicide pact. The title has two contradicting topics in nature; virginity and suicide. Maybe this acts as a not so gentle reminder that absolute purity does not always equate to perfection, as the matriarch mother believed. In fact, she believed that she raised her children perfectly and never did anything wrong. The film makes you question where true happiness actually comes from. In the mind of the family, upholding perfect standards of purity and Catholic values, and sheltering the girls from anything that could harm them, was the best way. The girls always wanted freedom, even if Lux was the forefront of breaking away from her family’s expectations. In the end, there is no perfect definition of what true happiness is. Everyone will always want what they truly desire, not what others confine them to. – JA
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https://theplaylist.net/sofia-coppola-criterion-virgin-suicides-20180502/2/
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Mulvey, Laura. “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema” [1975]. Feminist Film Theory: A Reader. Ed. Sue Thornham. New York: New York University Press, 1999. 58-69.
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https://www.theguardian.com/film/2018/jan/25/sofia-coppola-on-the-virgin-suicides-director-debut
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https://thedissolve.com/features/movie-of-the-week/1076-the-virgin-suicides-is-a-window-into-sofia-coppola/
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Kristina Bazan Is More Than a Pretty Picture. She’s an Artist [Q&A]
Kristina Bazan is a woman of many talents. From starting her world-renowned fashion blog, Kayture, as a teenager, to being chosen by Forbes in 2016 as one of the 30 under 30 most influential personalities, it is difficult to imagine something Bazan is incapable of doing. So, when the fashion socialite and best-selling author announced she would be focusing solely on music, it first came as a shock. However, upon further inspection, music does not exist as some experimental detour in the life of Bazan; it serves as her starting point and a place she always seemed destined to return.
Before the fashion and fame, Bazan was an introverted teenager who took up songwriting at the tender age of 13. She even went so far as to join a rock band at the age of 15, in which she would play rock covers in her friend’s garage. However, it was around this time that her fashion blog, Kayture, began to take the world by storm, and overnight she would become fashion’s “it girl.” Now, some odd ten years since first picking up songwriting, Bazan returns to the art form that originally captured her heart with the release of her debut EP, EPVH1. The striking six-song collection is an introspective examination of our relationship with technology scored by transcendent moments of pop and electronic influence.
We had the chance to sit down with fashion “it girl” turned rising artist Bazan to speak on what has always arguably been her calling-music-and making that at-times terrifying leap into a new medium.
OTW: What was it like seeing yourself listed as one of Forbes’ 30 Under 30?
Kristina: That was the first time my dad was like, “Okay. Now I respect you.” Before that, he was not really approving of what I was doing. That was the first time he was really like, “You were right for doing this, for working so hard.”
OTW: Besides being a part of Forbes’ 30 Under 30, most people know you from your fashion blog, Kayture, or the fact that you are a best-selling author. However, songwriting has always existed as a passion of yours.
Kristina: I knew I always wanted to be a singer, but it seemed like such an unrealistic fantasy to have. Especially because I was born In Belarus, and I kept moving around a lot, and in Switzerland, we don’t really have a music industry there. So, it was just absurd to even think about it. But throughout my childhood, and when I was a teenager, I was always writing songs, dressing up, and willing to put on a show for my family. I gravitated so naturally towards it.
OTW: Let’s talk about your teenage rock band for a second.
Kristina: Wow! You’ve done your research. It was really funny. It was only with dudes, and we played “Seven Nation Army.” I thought I was so cool cause I was the only girl with way older guys in a garage playing rock. The band was called The Few. I ended up quitting because of the blog, but they actually started performing in Switzerland. They’re really cool. I’m friends with them on Facebook, so when I share stuff about my EP, they’re commenting, “Yes! We knew you from back then!” I wish people knew me from that period, because it makes so much sense. Exactly the way I was at that period, is the way I am right now. I had this period in the middle where you’re playing the game. You’ve got to make yourself a career, to make people know that you exist.
OTW: Your passion for songwriting really does span quite some time. It’s something I noticed even comes up in a few of your past interviews, even when the focus was mainly on your fashion.
Kristina: It is actually what I love the most. Vocally, I’m not Whitney Houston. I think I have a nice voice, but there are vocal singers who just blow your mind. My forte has always been telling stories. I’m such a dreamer. My imagination is running wild all the time. I feel the absolute urge to put it into something. And music is such a beautiful format to tell stories.
You give music to people and they can make anything out of it and put their own memories onto it. It’s so beautiful.
OTW: Would you say your music taste evolved a great deal from teenage you to present you?
Kristina: I always loved electronic stuff. I’m actually super geeky. Growing up, I always played a lot of video games. I would prefer staying in and playing The Sims over going out with my friends. I got really into Myspace and blogs, and that’s actually how I got into blogging in the first place, because I’ve always been an Internet nerd. Musically, I had a huge obsession and still do with Crystal Castles and Daft Punk. Daft Punk is like my fucking religion. I just love discovering indie, underground electronic bands.
OTW: Your debut EP, EPVH1, gives off this moody ‘80s, almost Blade Runner-esque vibe. Did you attend for there to be an overarching theme to your debut?
Kristina: Well, actually, I was wondering, from my point-of-view, what can I bring to the table that’s new and fresh and that hasn’t been done. It’s such a hard question because there are so many incredible artists that are releasing music, and we’re just flooded with content. We barely have time to digest it. I was really wondering what I can do that actually makes sense. How can I turn all of these years of experience, of being a blogger, working in the digital world, and having this public image into use?
I wanted my whole EP to have this underlying subject manner of technology and the relationship we have with technology. And how it affects the way we live but also our relationships.
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OTW: The examination of our relationships to Instagram must be particularly prevalent to you, as someone whose youth was formed alongside social media a popular blog. Did you find writing from that viewpoint allowed you to tell a very unique story?
Kristina: Well, yeah, because from the age of 17, I was literally sharing my diary with the whole world. I think that a lot of people grew up with me. I had really incredible experiences where followers approached me and gave me letters where they said seeing how I succeeded with the blog gave them the inspiration to pursue something they always feared doing. If you have great ideas, you put them into use, you believe in yourself, and you work hard, nothing should stop you.
I’m really proud that was the position and perspective I was defending. But at the same time, I don’t know why the word blogger has such a negative connotation nowadays. I was really ashamed to say that I’m a blogger, that I’m an influencer because it meant that I’m narcissistic, my life revolves around sponsorships and brands, and that it’s kind of an illusion. Honestly, it kind of is an illusion in a way. Your whole life revolves around portraying a certain lifestyle, portraying a certain image. At the end of the day, you make money off selling and this entire system behind it.
For me, there was a point where I completely lost the point of it. I don’t feel like it’s authentic anymore, even though I kept writing a lot. I always took a lot of time to write profound articles and really share things that meant a lot of me. But I knew that maybe 10% of my audience was really reading them. At the end of the day, what people wanted was just really pretty pictures of me in the streets, which is nice, but I don’t think it’s long-lasting. I don’t think that’s what people are going to remember in five years. While with music, if it’s good enough, it can have a really long life.
“At the end of the day, what people wanted was just really pretty pictures of me in the streets, which is nice, but I don’t think it’s long-lasting. I don’t think that’s what people are going to remember in five years. While with music, if it’s good enough, it can have a really long life.”
OTW: And by the time people have read this, you will have just finished performing your first three shows–in Paris, Los Angeles, and New York–how does it all feel?
Kristina: Amazing. I love being on stage so much. It’s incredible. It’s like you’re meditating with people. It’s an exchange of energy. There’s really such a beautiful and strong connection. People are chill, they’re here to listen to music, they’re open. For me, it’s the most beautiful thing ever. Since I’ve spent all of these years behind a computer screen, I cannot even tell you how nice it is to have real people in front of me and to see people connect to the music. I saw that some people know the words. Like damn, I wrote those words on my bathroom floor! It’s so crazy to be able to bring that and let people make it their own. It’s wonderful.
“Since I’ve spent all of these years behind a computer screen, I cannot even tell you how nice it is to have real people in front of me and to see people connect to the music.”
OTW: Now that you’ve fully embraced becoming an artist, what can we expect from your forthcoming debut album? Will it be similar to EPVH1?
Kristina: I think that the EP set the bricks of the aesthetics and the sound, but it was so interesting for me to get the first feedback. I was cultivating this whole visual and world for so long, and I kind of lost some objectivity at a certain point, because you’re so in it constantly. I just needed the point-of-view of the audience. I just wanted to have the opinion of random people I’ve never met. What does it make them feel like? What does it remind them of? And that really influenced the way I kept working on my album.
To me, the EP isn’t dark. For me, it’s really introspective and deep in some way. I wanted to touch a cord inside of you. It’s filled with light and it’s really positive. It just questions things. I had a lot of people tell me, “Why is it so dark? Are you gothic now? Are you punk?” Look at me! Do I look gothic to you? [laughs] People said that I was a Satanist cause I had a song called “The Devil.” Guys, we’re in 2018, can’t you play with this word and make a beautiful story out of it. In reality, it’s a love song. So, as much as I don’t find it dark, I want to show something lighter and sunnier on the album.
OTW: Do you find there’s a very different process when it comes to sitting down to write a blog post as opposed to writing a song?
Kristina: Very different. When I write blog posts, it’s like I’m in a trance and just write everything that goes through my mind. I literally cannot see the time pass. It’s really like you’re opening up and saying everything that’s on your mind. Music is different because you have a format. You have a certain timeframe, rhythm, syllables, and pattern that you have to respect. So, you have to synthesize your message and be really clear about what you’re trying to say so people can have a story to follow. You have to have a really clear idea about what your song is about. Often times for me, it stars with a word or a concept and then I have one hook. It builds almost like a movie. You’re imagining the colors around you, what people are doing, how does it make you feel. It makes you go into a lot of places in your head. It’s so much fun.
OTW: Who are your Ones To Watch?
Kristina: I love Timber Timbre. It’s really one of my favorite bands right now. I keep playing their stuff on repeat. Very chill but very sexy. It’s perfect for any occasion.
OTW: Any last words?
Kristina: Stay tuned for the album because it’s going to be filled with really beautiful surprises. And I can’t wait to see everyone during my performances. I hope as many people as possible can come.
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Nature Trail to Hell Arc III: The Blood Curse of Tako Shak
Chapter 1: Roadside Hysteria
As the saying goes, I went into the Underworld a midget, came out a giant. At least, I think that’s a saying. I also came out covered in wood dust and all those other things you get from falling through a ceiling, but that’s not the point. Anyway, when F-Bomb and I got up, I realized I’d smashed a house under my foot. Now normally, in these types of situations, I’d have no idea where I was, but this place, tiny as it was, actually looked too familiar. Back when I was a nano-Watt, my parents would take me to this toy train museum out in the country. We did this so many times, I memorized the whole way there. So I can swear on my Mother’s grave I tell you the truth when I say this looked exactly like the Pennsylvanian countryside, complete with horse and buggies, anthracite mines, old timey towns, and in the distance, the perfect view of the Statue of Liberty.
“Oh. My. God!” I gasped. “F-Bomb, I think we went through puberty!”
To which my good friend slapped my face with his free hand (the other was cradling a much worse for wear Sailor Moon) “No, we didn’t get growth spurts, Turd. I mean really,” he cried, picking up a tree. “These stupid things don’t even go up to our ankles. Did you honestly think people grew like that?!”
I opened my mouth to speak.
“On second thought, I don’t need an answer. You’re Turd, of course you thought it was some kinda growth spurt.”
“Well, we were in the Underworld a pretty long time.” I said, tipping over the world’s most adorable little water tower “Maybe the world just shrunk while we were away.”
“Watt, Watt, Watt. That’s not how it works. Everyone knows time works different in the Underworld. What was weeks to us down there was probably only a few days up here. Besides”
He pointed to the horizon. “Last I heard, the Pennsylvania countryside wasn’t protected by childproof glass!”
“So… what are you saying?”
F-Bomb glared at me “Do I REALLY have ta spell it out for ya, Turd?! Look around. Since when did planes just fly around in circles?! Attached to wires?! Since when did this country have trains from five different decades riding around at the same time?!” He pointed to the miniature houses, filled with smiling, laughing couples with their kids. “Since when did this country have so many functional relationships?!”
Before F-Bomb could finish, the sky grew dark (well, except where we’d fallen through the roof) and a spotlight illuminated the giant Statue of Liberty. In the distance, the most angelic voice I ever heard belted out ‘God bless America’. It was so beautiful, a single tear crept down my face. But like all things beautiful and patriotic, it couldn’t last. A minute later, it was morning again.
“A-and THAT THING just happened! Don’t you get it, we’re in some kind of model train display!”
I wanted to protest, come up with some witty comeback line, but I had nothing. F-Bomb was right. As much as I wanted this to be real, there was no way the real America would ever be this patriotic.
Good thing an army of thimble sized people started marching out of their homes, gathering around us like ants at a picnic, or I mighta gotten depressed. F-Bomb looked down at the miniature horde gathered at our feet. Outwardly, he was his usual hard clawed, serious self, but inside I could tell he was thrilled to see someone even smaller than him for once.
“Who the fork are you weenies?” He exhaled from his nostrils was so strong it blew some of them into the next county, all of five feet away.
At the front of this group was a bearded guy wearing a straw hat, suspenders, and several other fashion choices that the 1800’s were inevitably gonna call and demand back. In fact, everyone was dressed in clothes my Grandma probably picked out of the Goodwill bin when she was little.
“Greetings, good neighbor! It is I, Abraham Fisher, good disciple of the Heavenly Father. And I thank you and the heavenly, the merciful, the almighty Lord for coming to our aid!”
The crowd erupted into cheering. In the back, several couples burst into tears and started hugging each other.
Confused yet? Because I sure was. In fact, I almost voiced my confusion, but before I could say ‘What the heck is going on here?’ F-Bomb had already connected the dots and shut me up good. Now, before we continue, just know that the Deinono are known for being the greatest grifters in the Underworld (at least, on their turf) because, man, did F-Bomb pull the grift of an (after) lifetime! I’ll try to word it best I can, but trust me, it was a lot more believable when he said it.
First, he took his hands and spread them out like he was peeling back an invisible curtain.
“Dang straight, worldly peons! It is I, Archangel Michael, sent by the Heavenly Father himself to smite the evil that besieges this unhallowed realm! And with me are Jesus Christ” he pointed to me and my dumbfounded face “and the Virgin Mary!”
“I knew it!” Cheered an amish kid, pointing at my underworld souvenir. “‘Tis the same shirt he wore during the resurrection!”
The crowd let out another hurrah! All except for some schmoe in the back with a raised hand. F-Bomb pointed to him. “O heavenly child, speak up!”
“N-not to be t-that guy, but why is the Virgin Mary dressed in such a small miniskirt? Surely such a revealing outfit is blasphemous in the eyes of the almighty Lord!”
But just as whispers started to bubble through the crowd, F-Bomb was already twenty steps ahead. I was just wondering how the fork the guy who used to drop twenty F-Bombs a sentence learned so many big boy words, and made a mental note to ask him for help on my next spelling test (if I ever went back to school, that is).
“Ah, but she is wearing a dress long enough to reach the floor, in fact. But such a dress can only be seen by those most pure of heart and free of heinous, lustful thoughts most foul!”
Though nobody said a word after that, many soft prayers could be heard in the back.
“So why is it, O devout children, that we have been called here?!”
The nerd who called himself Abraham bowed his head so low I’m surprised it didn’t go through his legs.
“Archangel Michael, what ails the good folk is a crisis most dire!” He gestured toward an enormous (at least, by their standards) mountain in the middle of the countryside. On second glance, I realized it was one of those slanted doors you see outside of cellars all the time, just covered in green fabric and fake trees. “A terrible giant arises from the depths of Hell and takes away our trains!”
“And what, exactly, does he do to these trains?”
“Oh, it’s terrible. They come back, but when they do, they’re all polished and shiny! Worse, they come back… WORKING AGAIN!”
The shock and horror displayed by the citizens at this was so ridiculous F-Bomb nearly broke character. “And this is bad because…?”
“Do you not see, O Archangel? We are the good folk! It is our duty to reject fancy things and embrace self-sufficiency, which this demon has taken from us! And, he comes from below. Therefore, how can he not be evil?!”
The crowd nodded in agreement.
“Very well, peons! The Lord looks kindly at you on this day! We shall smite the evil and drive it back to where it came from!”
No sooner had we said this then the steel doors of the mountain opened, revealing…
A repair guy.
For a moment he stared at us the way I’d stare at the chalkboard whenever the class started doing long division. Then he took a cellphone the size of a cinderblock out of his dirty overalls.
“Hello, security? There’s a kid in the middle of the layout with some kind of –Ooouuugggh!”
F-Bomb wasted no time delivering a claw to the guy’s face.
“O fouled hellspawn, God has sent you a message, and that message is DEATH!”
The cellphone skidded across the ground, not stopping until it ran through a town, probably causing half a million in property damage.
“You take care of the rest!” F-Bomb shrieked, heading for the phone.
I got real nervous from that one, let ,e tell you! I may be Christian, but I barely knew a thing about old Mr. Christ, other than that I got my middle name him, and if my Dad was so eager to name me after the guy, he must be important to some degree. Maybe he invented puppies? I wasn’t sure. What I did know was that I couldn’t let the cheering thongs at my feet lose faith in their religion, so I did what most little kids would do in this situation: I realized I didn’t have to be Christ, I just had to deliver divine justice my own way.
And nothing said ‘justice delivered’ quite like pumping a janitor full of underworld lead, curtesy of my tommy gun..
The crowd cheered as blood flowed from the body, forming little, then very big lakes at the foot of tiny mountains. I opened the door in the mountains and put him under before the poor guy flooded the whole countryside.
Meanwhile, F-Bomb was busy on the phone, imitating the maintenance guy’s voice so well I almost thought the guy had come back from the dead.
“Yes, sir! Everything’s bo diddley! Oh, don’t mind me, that screaming earlier was just a… cramp? And no, that’s not a crowd cheering over a dead body in the background. Crazy what static will make you hear!” With that, F-Bomb hung up, triumphant.
Together, we looked at the lands we had arrived in, from the Statue of liberty to the little pueblo villages in the back. We had defeated a great evil, and saved it all. At our feet, the tiny citizens of this world bowed their heads.
“O, mighty emissaries of the Lord, O great vanquishers of evil, is there anything we can do to show our gratitude?”
F-Bomb put a claw to his chin as his face contorted into a hideous upward sickle that I think was supposed to be smiling. “Anything, you say? Well in that case, I and Mr. Heavenly Son over here could really use a foot massage…”
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ARCH ENEMY
Interview with Angela Gossow and Michael Amott
by Daniel Hinds
(conducted July 2005)
As Doomsday Machine rolls forth, the slow build-up from relative serenity to neck-breaking brutality is a perfect reflection of Arch Enemy's own rise from Sweden's extreme metal underground. What began as a fusion of virtuoso guitar work and melodic death metal has evolved into one of the most devastating outfits on today's scene. As good as 2003's Anthems of Rebellion was at getting the band's foot in the door, Doomsday Machinekicks it down and announces that Arch Enemy has arrived in no uncertain terms. The speed, power and complexity the band is renowned for is accompanied by a heaviness worthy of the album's dreadnought namesake. Just as the band was embarking on this year's highly successful Ozzfest outing, guitarist Michael Amott and mic destroyer Angela Gossow called in and were clearly amped and ready to conquer the world.
Angela, a few questions for you first. When it comes to death metal, you seem like something of a purist – would you say that’s true?
Angela: Yes, my tastes in death metal are very old-school. I like the dirty, unpolished, maybe out of sync production of the old Morbid Angels and Obituaries of the world, the life they put into it. Today there are a lot of high-tech blastbeats and the feeling gets a bit lost for me. It's maybe more extreme, but that's not the point and the musical aspects get lost a bit.
During the recording of the new album, I understand there was a very specific microphone you wanted to use.
Angela: Yeah, a good old German one. I wanted to use a hand-held microphone this time. The normal ones you use live, they distort too much, like the SM58. It's a great live microphone but way too much distortion so you can't record with that. Our producer, he knows a lot about this kind of equipment and he said Sennheiser microphones, they have a couple of really good ones that they record like radio sessions with. They interview a person against a really noisy background and it still picks up that person's voice very clearly. So he went out to find one of these, the Sennheiser MD-21, and there's just a few left because I think they are form the '60s or '70s, really old. He actually found one, we tried it out and it sounded great. When you have a handheld, you move more obviously and the distance from your mouth to the microphone changes all the time, and that microphone picks up the same signal still, so you can't hear that even though it's happening. That's very important when you're recording, that you don't get a very distant sound and a very close sound, but one that is always the same. But unfortunately they don't have them wireless or I would use that live as well. I hate wires so I have to always get a wireless.
I saw that sports was listed on your hobbies list – is that watching or playing?
Angela: Oh no, I don't watch sports - it's painfully boring to watch other people run after the ball or whatever. I'm very, very active, I'm one of those restless people, I can't really sit around. I didn't do any sports until I was 24 or 25 because I was just working my ass off in an office. I was tired but I couldn't sleep at all every evening, like my mind was tired but my body was wide awake, and when I discovered sports it solved a lot of problems. I don't feel good when I haven't done anything. When you go on tour, you do something every night, running around on stage, and that's a workout in itself, but when you're home… I can't just sit around. I can feel my body getting restless and angry with me, 'Use the muscles you've got, you're fucking degenerating right now!' (laughs) So I move as much as I can, I go running, I lift weights, I go swimming, whatever is possible.
All right, now a couple for Michael. It seems like, after lead guitar was somewhat banished in the 90s, it is finally making a comeback. What are your feelings about that?
Michael: I hear a lot of attempts at lead guitar. (laughs) I was reading Guitar World the other day and a lot of bands that you never thought would have guitar solos are saying, ‘We’re incorporating lead guitar, we’ve been listening to Iron Maiden, blah blah blah.’ And I’m just like…’Fuck you.’ (laughs) We do it well and we’ve been doing it all the time. For those first two albums, it was like we were standing there with a flag, going, ‘Hey, we play guitar solos! Why is nobody behind us?’ (laughs) Apart from the obvious people like Zakk Wylde and Steve Vai, but that is kind of a different style – in our genre we were kind of alone. I think we were ahead of the game in that department. But I sound kind of negative there and I’m all for it. It just seems like there are so many trends in music now and metal as well. People are so worried about what the other bands are doing and when one thing takes off and is successful, everybody wants to be exactly the same. To me, that is complete bullshit. Music should be from the soul, it should be from the heart. It shouldn’t be from listening to what other bands are doing I just prefer music by musicians who stay true to their… you know, if you were a nu-metal band in the 90s and playing no lead guitar, I think they should stay that way now as well. There’s a lot of fakeness out there.
Japan was kind of the first nation to really embrace Arch Enemy. Have you maintained that popularity in Japan over the years?
Michael: It's still very good. It's true, that was the first country that really picked up on the band and we developed a fanbase over there and we just stuck with it. We still do at least one or two tours over there on every album. I was just over there actually a couple weeks ago, I did some promotion for The Doomsday Machine. We've been to Japan a lot in the last few years - this was my fifteenth visit since '97. It's great, especially for me being kind of a connoisseur of hard rock and guitar music - everything is released over there on CD. You just go to record stores and find all kinds of crazy stuff from these 70s bands that nobody gives a shit about in the rest of the world. It's a pretty amazing place.
On a more serious note, I wanted to ask both of you what your thoughts were about the London bombings recently?
Michael: I was in Japan on the promo tour I told you about. I didn’t hear about it all day and then late in the evening, I called my manager – it’s 2 o’clock in the morning in Japan and I was awake, jet-lagged – I called my manager’s assistant in London, they are based in London. I’m like, ‘Everything’s going well here, blah blabh blah,’ and he’s like, ‘Well, you haven’t heard what’s happened over here then’ and he told me about it. It’s devastating, you know. We spend so much time over there because our management company is based over there. I don’t know… what can you say? It’s just very disturbing. I can’t really comprehend why people want to do stuff like that. It’s like 9/11 as well. Hard to comprehend what goes on in these people’s minds, being a complete atheist myself. Whatever opinions I have, whatever views or values that I have, I don’t feel the urge to force them upon other people. As a musician, some people get very political but I keep a really low profile. I have my own beliefs and my own standards, but I don’t really feel the need to push them on other people. I’m pretty tolerant I think. We have a lot of friends in London, so we were all just calling to make sure people were okay and thankfully nobody that we knew was injured.
Angela: We were in Italy doing promotion, me and Daniel, and Daniel's brother Adrian and his wife both live in London, around the corner from Liverpool Street, one of the bomb [sites]. It's terrible that it happened but at least there weren't too many causalities, I think 50 or 60. It could have been much worse. I see the reactions of the London people and I think they're very brave, like 'Fuck you, we're not afraid.' I think that's the right thing to do because if you get scared by it, then they've basically won. You can't make any place that safe, especially the Underground because there are so many people in there every day. All you can do is just show them that they can't wear you down. For us, it means there will be a lot more security at all the airports, which I'm actually glad about because you don't want anybody like this on your plane, but it makes things so much more difficult. And it always hits the wrong people, you know, like innocent children, mothers, fathers on the way to work… I don't understand how somebody can think that way. There is something terribly going wrong in this world at the moment and I don't think that American politics make it much better.
Angela, last time I interviewed you, we talked about the role of organized religion in a lot of today's world problems - how about the political side of things?
Angela: Well, the problem with Islam culture is the politics and religion are extremely mixed up, religion as politics and politics as religion. I think that's why you can influence people that badly and make them do things that are completely… I don't know. If you read the Koran, it says if you kill somebody, you're not going to be in Paradise, you're going to be in Hell. I don't know how they can twist and turn that in a way that you can get rewarded for killing innocent people just because they have the wrong ideas or the wrong religion. That's what mankind does; people use everything to manipulate others, especially religion, and that makes these countries very dangerous at the moment. I think that's why it's not going to stop. They were born into that system and that belief, they get brainwashed from day one, and I think it's going to be impossible to stop that to be honest. It doesn't really have to do with the religion itself, it is just what the leaders do with it, how they use that tool in a very evil way. All you can do is try to reach these people and talk to them, inform them that there is a very different world out there. It's really hard to change somebody's mind if he is getting fed that since he was a baby basically. In Germany, we're a very democratic country and I think we are really lucky to be born in these countries and have at least some choice. We can get some education, watch the news, and get some kind of objective opinion. Religion is still very strong in the Western world as well and when you listen to what the Pope says, you're like, 'Oh my god…' That's really fucked up I think, what he says about abortion and women and marriage. Whenever he says something, it has a lot of political effects as well. It's a dangerous combination, religion and politics, but it happens all over the world.
Our leaders here in America cross that line far too much, too.
Angela: Yeah, like with the homosexuals - why can't they just let them do what they want to do?
Getting back to the music, will there be an actual single from this album?
Angela: Yeah, I think the UK is going to do it. In Europe, [the album] comes out later than in America so I think that's what they're going to do, have a single for "Nemesis" and put a couple other tracks on it. We already shot the video for it.
How did that go?
Angela: Good. It was over two days and we tried to get as much done as possible, so basically you end up shooting the day, the night, and the next day, that's how it always goes. Everybody is always totally fried in the end. But I saw the first rough cuts and they look really good. I think it's worth the pain and the effort you put into it if you get a good video out of it.
What's next for Arch Enemy?
Michael: We’re going to stay busy. After Ozzfest, we’re going to have three weeks off, which we’ll probably need by then, and then we’re going to tour in Europe, headlining, then Japan, Australia, and come back to America after that. That’ll take us up 'til Christmas basically. Then Christmas off and start it all up again. We’re going to come back to America 3 or 4 times on this album, that’s the plan anyway. America will be absolutely sick of us by the time we’re done.
Looking at the band's message board, I see people from South America and India all begging you to come play in their countries. Do you have any new territories lined up for this round of touring?
Angela: We're definitely going to go to Australia this year because we haven't been there and it's a fantastic place to tour and we have a lot of fans who are begging us. South America, I don't know. We want to tour South America but we're looking for maybe a bigger band that we can support and ride on their back because South America is kind of a bit tricky when it comes to reliability of promoters and all that stuff. I've seen a lot of bands try to tour over there and they basically had a lot of bad luck: half the shows got canceled, they didn't get their money, they were stopped by the police, that kind of thing. So I think we'd be a lot safer [going] with another band that is more experienced in that market. It would be great if Judas Priest would take us out. (laughs)
www.archenemy.net
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I Lost My Family to the Deep Web by Erick_Alden
Allow me to just preface this by saying that I never used the deep web for anything too bad. I never bought drugs. I never stole movies or music. Hell, I rarely even looked at porn. I had the most generous wife you could ever imagine. I honestly didn’t need porn with a woman like that in my life. I had always been fascinated by computers but the town I grew up in was a small hick town if that. I remember hearing about computers and the internet, and the idea of it blew me away. Being able to access information from anywhere in the world was amazing, and it astounded me that it wasn’t embraced and pursued by more people. So, I not only lived in a technology desert, but my family wasn’t exactly rich either.
My mom slaved away at a large corporation where she was paid much less than she was worth. My dad worked various odd jobs, but always invested most of his time into the local church. He was a stereotypical bible thumper, and as one might expect, I grew to resent the religion. I always felt like religion was a one-way street. They expected me to pray to and serve some deity in the sky and all those who don’t would burn in hell. My interest in history led me to the realization that every religion was similar in that regard. And that, for me, was enough to dismiss them all.
Thankfully they raised my sister and me to work hard. We both went to college and got decent jobs. She became a nurse and moved to New York. I followed my passion for history, and eventually became a world history teacher at a small high school.
I married my high school sweetheart shortly after getting my teaching job, and we moved into a more populated suburb not too far from where I grew up. We found a nice house that was close enough to both of our jobs. My wife and I had been saving up money because we were trying to have a child, although it was taking longer than we thought. After about a year of trying, we saw a doctor. He said that we were both able and healthy, but it would take some more time. This was almost nice in a way because we had more money than we needed for when the baby came. I decided to take a few hundred dollars and get that computer I’d been dreaming about for years. I was so excited when my wife agreed that I should. We couldn’t raise a kid in this day and age without a computer after all, right? Well, I put it in our home office. And I quickly became enamored with the thing. I can honestly say, that my life would have been so much better if I’d had one of these growing up. I could literally learn anything in the world I wanted. I found myself reading dozens of articles, speeches, books, and watching tutorials. I could not have been any happier. Time marched on and I found myself finishing up the semester and getting ready for the summer. It got pretty boring honestly. I still got paid for it, but because the school was such a crappy district, there weren’t many things for teachers to get involved in over the summer.
That was when my genuine interest in the internet became something of an addiction. I was on that thing at nearly all hours of the day. Since my wife and I were still trying to have a baby, we were having sex like two animals. Life could not have gotten any better. Unfortunately, when things get that good, they can only get worse. It was a month and a half through the summer vacation when I found myself reading the same shit on the internet. There was nothing new, or at the very least nothing worth learning about. However, I did recall hearing about something strange. It was called the deep web. I never studied it in depth, but I eventually had a basic understanding of it. I downloaded Tor and starting looking around online. I made sure to be extra careful because I have heard stories of people being stalked, kidnapped, or even killed from using the deep web.
I found myself staring at dozens of random links on the hidden wiki at 3 o’clock in the morning. I kept clicking away until something, anything useful came up. I did end up finding a lot of mathematics and science stuff, but I’m a history teacher, I’d rather learn about history. A few more hours of searching and I found something that at least remotely peaked my interest. It was a conspiracy theory page. Now I don’t consider myself to be anything of a conspiracy theorist, nor am I the least bit paranoid about things like the Illuminati. But these were some of the most solid arguments for foul play from the government I had ever seen. There were classified documents, in-depth research, and an overwhelming amount of evidence for almost every theory I saw. Don’t get me wrong, there were a few that seemed a bit farfetched, but the vast majority of them made some damn good arguments.
Eventually, I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer and had to go to bed. I powered down my computer and as quiet as a mouse, crawled into bed with my tender loving wife. I felt a bit of a void between us though, she never had the lust for knowledge like I did, and if I were to ever tell her about the crazy and interesting things I read online, she’d playfully tease me that she was falling asleep or something to that effect. The next day, I was right back on the deep web looking for new things to widen my world view. Nearly an hour had gone by and all I had found was a bunch of broken links. I was about to sign off when a box appeared in the corner of my screen with a link in it. Being as naïve as I was, I clicked on it. I was absolutely mortified at what I saw next. At first glance, I thought the abomination on my computer screen was some kind of a torture video. No. I was dead wrong.
A toddler whimpered as he sat there gagged and bound. Covered in blood and piss, he begged the man in frame to stop, but to no avail. A deranged man in a Guy Fawkes mask stared at the camera as he thrust his body to and fro. A few seconds went by when the man finished, and he got up to do a strange dance. If there was a cross between a football player’s victory dance and a circus clown’s opening act, the resulting atrocity might resemble the strange act the man performed over that poor child.
To my horror, I realized it was a live feed hooked up to a webcam with a live chat box on the side. It took a few minutes for the shocking realization to fully wash over me. After I’d collected myself, I foolishly started to read what was in the live chat box. The most horrid and disgusting things you can imagine were being requested. I had a hard time believing that real people were behind a keyboard somewhere in the world typing these things. I really don’t want to go into too much detail about what they were saying. It suddenly dawned on me that I could just close this shit and be over with it. I jolted the mouse and clicked to X out the page, but nothing happened. I felt my stomach drop.
“What… what the hell is going on?” I kept asking myself. I’d never heard of anything like this happening. I was about to manually reboot my computer when the man from the video stream called out my full name. “Leaving so soon Mr. Edwards?” “Off to teach another history lesson at that little shithole you call a high school?” He asked in a rough, distorted tone.
I had no idea what to do. I clicked every button on the computer, keyboard, and mouse. No matter what I did, there was no reaction. I heard him start reading off my credit card information and I’d had enough. I unplugged my computer from the back and powered it down. It was a relief to have finally left that nightmare of a web page. I was in awe at the speed he was able to get my personal information.
I changed my credit card number and any other information I could. My wife was a bit suspicious but she didn’t pry too much at it. We had a very trusting relationship, and I didn’t want to frighten her, so I kept the incident to myself. A few days went by and I didn’t even go into my office. I left my computer in there unplugged, admittedly scared to turn that damned thing on ever again. I knew I’d have to eventually face my fear, so I entered the office. I booted her up and everything seemed to be normal. I deleted Tor and made sure to be done with the deep web. I casually loaded up google chrome and everything seemed to be perfectly fine. Nothing seemed to come to fruition from my little mishap and decided I was going to be safe after all. Oh, how wrong I was…
About 5 months later, my wife’s sister ended up moving in. She really was such a pleasant woman, and we did have extra space so we decided to allow her to stay with us. It was just a few weeks later that my wife and I got the good news. She was pregnant. She was already a couple weeks in, and she and the baby were both healthy and in good shape. It was the best feeling in the world getting that news. I had gotten back into the swing of things with my job and occasionally reading some decent articles on the internet. It wasn’t long before we were days away from the birth of our daughter. I had completely forgotten about the events that had transpired the night I decided to use the deep web.
It was a typical Sunday afternoon. I sat on my back porch drinking some cold sweet tea and listening to the hum of nature. Natural life can be so beautiful. Alone I sat, in a serene peace, seemingly impenetrable from the vile world that lay outside the boundaries of my own little haven. That was when I heard a crash and screaming coming from my house. Immediately I thought it was my sister-in-law watching TV too loud, which she had a tendency to do, but then I heard my wife sobbing uncontrollably. Panic sunk into my heart and I dashed into the house. I entered the large living room just in time to see a large masked man slit my wife’s throat. I screamed at him but he didn’t even acknowledge my existence. I was screaming uncontrollably and ran toward him with intent to kill.
I smashed a glass lamp over his head but he didn’t even flinch. I was questioning if he even felt it or not. He turned around and grabbed me by my throat. He lifted me up off the ground and brought my face close to his. “You thought I forgot about you, boy?” I instantly recognized him as the man from that deep web live stream I saw all those months ago. That was the last thing I remember before waking up.
I awoke to see my sister-in-law’s mangled corpse on the floor. It looked like she’d been cut in fucking half. To my horror, I saw my beloved wife’s body there, drenched in blood. I sobbed uncontrollably for some time. I’m still not sure how much time passed while I knelt there and sobbed. Time may very well have stood still for all I knew or cared. But after I composed myself, I noticed something strange about my wife’s corpse. Her stomach was not nearly as large as I had remembered it to be. I crawled over to analyze her body further. The wicked idea danced across my imagination. I pushed her on her side and my hunch turned out to be true.
That sick bastard had cut my child out of my wife and had taken it. It was certainly far along enough to have been born at this point. What the fuck was I going to do? I called the police and the operator’s apparent apathy toward the situation did nothing but anger me.
“911 what’s the emergency.” The operator said in an uninterested tone. “Someone killed my family, and I think they took my daughter.” I frantically let out in a single breath. I continued to tell them my address. “We’ll have someone over there as soon as we can.”
The way she said that, frustrated me. Here I am, sitting in a puddle of my family’s blood. My life’s been drastically changed forever, and she makes it seem as if it’s just another day at the office. Where’s the empathy? Where is the compassion for your fellow human being?
After days of investigation and questioning, they were unable to find the killer or my daughter. I told those lazy fucking cops that this man found me and my family because I used the deep web. But because it was so long ago, and I couldn’t find the website again, they couldn’t do anything about it. They called it a random act of heinous violence, and within two weeks. The story did make the local news, but nothing more happened than that. I guess it wasn’t shocking enough. The whole incident was forgotten and people were worried about the next terrible thing. How could I live with myself after this? My entire family was dead because I was snooping around something I had no business to be partaking in. The following weeks were the worst of my life. I would drink as soon as I got up, and then drink all day. Alcohol was the only escape from this fucked up reality I had to live with. I was a shell of a human, nothing more than a clusterfuck of negative, hideous emotions. Misery became my only companion, but I had no one to be miserable with. I had to live this horrible fate alone.
Years had gone by when I looked into the mirror to see the unshaven face I’d come to despise. Every day I thought about where my daughter might be.
“Maybe they sent her away to live with a nice loving family across the country.” I half-heartedly deluded myself. Deep down, I knew she was most likely raised in some human trafficking ring where she’d be beaten, raped or even worse; in some hellhole filled with those sick fucks. I slowly made my way to my porch when I saw a familiar vehicle pull into my driveway. I could barely remember who it belonged to. When I saw his face I instantly recognized him. It was my father. I hadn’t seen him in years.
“Son I know you’re hurting, but this is no way to live your life. Do you think you can move on?” I looked up at him grimacing. “Do you think I’d be here doing this if I could move on?”
He gave me a rough look and said that I needed to get revenge. He placed a revolver on the table in front of me, gave me a stern nod, and left. I was honestly shocked. This was the most religious man I’d known in my life who argued against the killing of any kind. I didn’t know if I could do it, but I started to think of how many people those bastards had done this to. I can’t be the only one. So, if I were to theoretically go through with this, I’d really be doing the world a service. No fuck that. I’m avenging my family, and I’m going to save my daughter. Over the next couple of days, I drained my bank account and purchased thousands of dollars in weaponry and ammunition. I quickly realized there was a lot of illegal stuff that would come in real handy. I turned back to the deep web to buy spying equipment, heavy weapons, and explosives. It took about a month to gather enough supplies for my suicide mission, and as I sat in my basement with thousands of rounds of ammunition, pounds of explosives and, almost 20k dollars in spying equipment, I knew I was going to wreak havoc on these sons of bitches once and for all.
Days went by, and I began to feel lethargic about the whole situation. I hadn’t any idea of how I was going to find these people, or even if I could. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Two weeks went by of endless hours on the deep web, looking for the bastard who’d taken my family away from me. I came across something that seemed almost familiar in a way. It was another live stream of people torturing a child. I felt a vile hatred rise up from the pit of my stomach. I knew this wasn’t my guy, but I’d grown too impatient to wait any longer. “If I can’t find the needle in the haystack, I guess I’m just going to have to burn down the entire thing.” I thought to myself with hatred oozing from my pores. I made use of some of the spying equipment I bought and was able to figure out where these bastards were broadcasting from. An evil grin stretched across my face when I figured out they were right here in my own state.
I loaded my car with a machine gun, an AK-47, and C-4. I started my drive. This may have been the longest two hours of my life. I was so excited to finally kill some of these sick disgusting people. After almost taking a wrong turn, I found the rusty old barn house the torture porn was being broadcasted from. There were surprisingly only a few people there. A total of 4 men were running this operation. I watched for a while, but they never came out of the barn house. With my AK-47 in hand, I made my way to the entrance. I could see them raping a small boy, no older than twelve. He was crying hysterically, and covered in blood. They were completely oblivious to me. I aimed my rifles sight down. Admittedly, it took me a minute to actually pull the trigger. Pulling it was much harder than I would have thought, but seeing these sickos violate this defenseless child made me realize these people really were better off dead.
I opened fire and screamed “FUCK YOU” as loud as my lungs would permit. From what I could tell, at least two of them were dead. One was shot, but alive, and the fourth noticed quickly enough and got behind a truck. He had a pistol on him and fired back at me. This guy must have been legally blind or something because he missed pretty damn bad. Minutes went by and I slowly crept around to the other side of the building. The one with the gun was screaming at the other one to get up, but he was clearly unable. I got as close to the other gunman as I could in preparation to kill him. I aimed my sight, but I must have made a noise because he heard me. He spun around and shot. The bullet nearly grazed my skull. The gunshot was deafening. I ran toward him, expecting him to have had just fired his last shot. He had. I put a bullet through that motherfucker’s head. I stood over his bloodied corpse for a brief minute. I wanted to spit on it, but I didn’t want to leave any evidence for the cops, so I resisted the urge. I walked over to the bloodied one I shot earlier. Laughing as I did, I placed my boot on his throat. He kept begging for his life, but there was a better chance of hell freezing over before I spared him. I made sure his last minutes on this earth were as miserable as possible. Glaring down at this sick man I knew I was doing the right thing. I knew I was ridding the world of scum.
“Please, don’t kill me. This wasn’t my idea.” He begged.
“What did you fucking say? You have the nerve to try and talk you way out of your inevitable death? How dare you.” I pulled my leg back, and in one swift motion I kicked his skull in. His gray matter spilled all over the floor. The poor boy was sobbing uncontrollably. I pulled out my pre-paid cell phone, dialed 911 and told them of the situation. I told the boy to forget this night and then turned to walk away.
The ride home seemed to drag on for hours. I’d heard so many things about having PTSD after killing people. So many articles online said that after killing someone, you’d almost always feel guilty, even if you know you did the right thing. But the truth was, I didn’t feel guilty at all. I felt powerful. More powerful than I’d ever felt in the years leading up to this day. I knew after I saw that babbling pile of shit beg for his life that I was going to kill again. It felt so right to have someone begging for their life, and knowing that you weren’t going to grant them their wish made it all the more satisfying.
My life continued like that for many months. I’d spend almost all my free time on the deep web trying to track down anything that could lead me to my daughter and killing anyone I deemed worthy to die. I was like an over the top vigilante or something. Jesus, those were the days. Eventually, I became more involved in the private sector and started accepting payments to kill people. I’d gained enough notoriety in the criminal world that almost anyone knew who I was. I just wish I could go back in time and tell myself how much more money I could make by simply killing people. It makes me realize what a waste of my life teaching those hopeless dipshits really was. I was making chump change compared to what I make now. People apparently pay good money to have someone killed. I’d already made just under 3 million in the past 6 months. And I didn’t even have to repeat the same monotonous lecture 7 times in a day.
I almost became apathetic about ever finding my daughter again. She was most likely dead, or even worse. She could be anywhere in the world, and the odds of ever finding her were next to none, I thought.
One day a connection of mine told me he had a really good gig set up. He said that if I could kill 3 people well enough, I could become a regular for an underground overlord. For those of you that don’t know, this was the kind of guy who had more money than God. He ran a lot of the underground operations and even had a strong affiliation with the silk road before it gone shut down. I knew this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I jumped at the chance. I went over the information. I immediately realized these were going to be the highest profiled people I would ever kill.
When I first discovered I was going to have to kill a family with a young child I was mortified. The only people I have had to kill up to this point has been other criminals and sadists. How was I going to bring myself to take the lives of a seemingly innocent family? I would never even know why exactly I was being hired to kill them. You can’t ask questions like that to the higher ups though. Anyone who did was normally killed themselves, or at the very least ostracized by the organization they were trying to work for. It was a pretty serious business I got myself into. I had no problem with that. I only did what I was told, and nothing more. That was part of the reason I gained so much notoriety in my field. In fact, most people in this field never even get a chance to work for the overlord. And if you’re wondering why I keep referring to him as the overlord, it is because he does not communicate with you directly. There are a lot of people looking for him, and he’s responsible for billions in damage, and the loss of countless innocent lives, although they don’t have a lot of information on him as of right now, and will probably never catch him.
The next day, I was going to have to start tracking down this family I was ordered to kill. But that night, I was in a small bar in the middle of nowhere. Downing alcohol like there was no tomorrow and contemplating how exactly I was going to bring myself to do this. I knew in the pit of my stomach that I wasn’t a murderer. Well, let me rephrase that. Not a murderer of the innocent. I had no problem killing the evil men of the earth. I encountered so many sickos in my life. How could someone torture an animal or another person? I still couldn’t bring myself to understand how anyone could do such a thing. Even if I found the man who kidnapped my daughter, I wouldn’t torture him. I’d end his pathetic life and be done with him. Even after all the pain and agony that bastard put me through, I still knew I was better than him. I wouldn’t become the monster the I sought to destroy.
The bar began spinning after I downed my 5th shot, and I immediately came to regret this. I didn’t feel threatened by the few others in the bar before, but once I lost control of myself, it seemed as if I became all that much more paranoid. I became so much more vulnerable to those around me. And I couldn’t die just yet. I knew the events that were soon to come, would be life altering. I had this great feeling about this next job and the opportunities it would bring. Which is quite unusual. I never feel intuitive like this. With hopes of surviving until tomorrow, I drunkenly made my way back to the motel I was staying in. The snow and ice outside made it much more difficult to get there. As sad as it is to say, I ended up falling three times before I got home and locked the door. It wasn’t a far walk. But adding strong alcohol to any walk makes it seem like a journey around the entire globe. I laid down and the thought of becoming the most powerful criminal in the world rushed through my mind before I went to the realm of the unconscious. That night, I dreamt that I was a hero destined to save the world.
The next morning, my ears were assaulted by the alarm I’d set on my phone. I downed a couple aspirins to cope with the headache and got to work. The family I was going to be attacking lived in a relatively populated area, and I knew if I was going to pull this off, it would have to be quiet. I sharpened 3 separate knives and placed them in my coat pocket. The idea of bringing one of those blades across the neck of a little girl rushed through my mind and made me sick. But I knew that sacrifices were going to have to be made. I knew I had to be bad for the greater good. Unfortunately, I’ll never even know why I’m killing this family, but I did my best to separate myself from the idea that these were good people. They had to have done something pretty bad to have powerful criminals hiring hitmen to kill them, right?
I drove my SUV to their neighborhood and parked down the street at 3 o’clock. Looking toward their backyard I could see the father, Ronnie Williams on the back porch. I knew I was going to have to kill him within the next half hour because the mother, Bridget Williams, would be picking up their daughter from school and would arrive home at 3:30 every day. I thought to myself how easy this job was to do since someone else had done the monotonous task of stalking these people and recording their schedule. I locked my vehicle and started walking toward the house. I knew where they kept their extra key in the front yard garden and made my way into the house from the front. I waited for Ronnie to come back into the house for 10 minutes before I started to become impatient. I was going to need time to hide the body I thought and knew I needed to do this fast before Bridget and her daughter got home. I decided to push something over in the kitchen and hid behind the refrigerator as Mr. Williams slowly crept into the house saying “hello.” I realized how truly inept this guy was by this. I waited until he came close enough and I reached over to slice his throat open. He screamed, much to my dismay. I tackled him and plunged the knife into his neck violently, nearly cutting his fucking head off.
Watching the blood drip onto the floor drained me in some way. I sat over the lifeless body of a man who never saw me coming.
I collected myself and dragged his body to the basement. My goal was to leave no evidence for the police to find. Making my way up the stairs, I heard the front door opening. I remembered the blood all over the kitchen floor. “Shit,” I said to myself. I heard the woman and her daughter started screaming at the sight of the gruesome murder. I quickly rushed upstairs. “Ma'am, I need you and your daughter to remain calm. I’m part of the FBI, I’m afraid a murderer has made his way into your house earlier this day.” I said. “I want to see some identification!” The woman abruptly demanded. I pulled out my fake badge I always carried around and showed it to them. Anyone who knew anything about Federal Badges would easily detect it was a fake, but most people don’t.
“Is my husband alright?” She asked me. I told her he was downstairs. She slowly made her way down the basement stairs, and I followed closely behind. When she located her husband, she fell to her knees and began sobbing. That was when I pulled out my knife and slit her throat from behind. She was dead within seconds.
“Now for the hard part.” I thought to myself. I made my way back upstairs to find the little girl. She was nowhere in sight. I frantically looked all over the house but she was nowhere to be found. I grew increasingly worried. I knew I was being watched by the overlord, and if he saw this clear display of incompetence it would hurt any chances I had of working for him. I began walking up the creaky wooden stairs to continue my search. I knew I heard a sound coming from behind the door. I slowly and quietly made my way toward it. I wrapped my hand around the shiny doorknob and began to turn. A large German Shepard dog jumped on me, biting my arm. This caught me by surprise. I’d been wondering where that damned dog was. I struggled with the beast on top of me for a few minutes, but it was not long that I had my blade through its skin, and its blood soaking the cold wooden floor. After composing myself I continued my search for the girl. “This girl is barely 6 years old,” I thought “Where could she have gone?” There were enough rooms in this house that this could take a while. But I knew the longer I was here the worse it was for me. I checked each room in the house thoroughly but found nothing. That was when I remembered the girl’s father had built a fort in the backyard for her. “That has to be where she is.”
I began outside and exited the back door to the porch. I saw that the small makeshift door on the fort was closed and knew I’d find her in there. I walked over and opened the door to the fort. She screamed as I forcefully pulled her out of the fort. All her energy was spent trying to free herself. I tried calming her down but to no avail. She was crying and sobbing uncontrollably. I brought her back inside to finish the job. I threw her to the floor as I mentally readied myself to drive my knife through the little girl’s heart. I could feel my own moral compass screaming at me to stop this madness. It was hard enough to kill the parents, how was I going to kill their daughter now too? I closed my eyes and brought my knife close to her chest. She was screaming, but I did my best to distance myself from the whole situation as much as I could. I closed my eyes and began to focus.
The screaming stopped and I opened my eyes to see the lifeless corpse of the little girl oozing blood onto the floor. I started sobbing as the realization of my actions washed over me like a tidal wave of guilt and regret. “I had to do it. I had to do it.” I kept telling myself.
“Yes, you did.” A strange voice exclaimed behind me. It sounded really familiar but I had no idea where I heard it before. I turned around to see a large masked man standing behind me. He began to speak. “I know this whole ordeal has been difficult for you, killing your own daughter and such. But I’m…”
“What did you fucking say? This was my daughter… but my daughter has been dead for years.” I said, cutting him off.
“What do you think I did when I kidnapped her from you Johnny boy? I stole her from you and gave her to a loving couple incapable of having a child of their own. And honestly, they did a much better job of raising her than you ever could have.” He calmly stated. “Why would you do this to me?” “Because I can. And if you even think of attacking me a bullet will be through your head so fast your fucking head will spin.”
I didn’t know what to do. I fell to my knees and began sobbing. Why did I let this happen? Why God? Fucking why? What the fuck was the point of any of this? I thought there was something strange about her. How could I have been so stupid?
People always say "when you look into the abyss, the abyss looks back." As I stood there over the corpse of my dead daughter, looking into the eyes of the man who'd led me down the road to hell, I knew I was no longer looking down toward a monster. I was looking at an equal. The amount of self-loathing and hatred that lurked in my soul left me devoid of any other feelings. I knew that I was even more despicable than the monster that dragged me down here, for he at least knew he was doing wrong. I have been nothing but a vigilante masquerading as a hero. I'm no hero. I never was. It's ironic in a way. I became the very thing I set out to destroy. I looked up at the overlord, and said: “Did I pass the test?”
He looked pleased with my response and nodded his head. He extended his arm to help me up. After getting back up, I lunged at him and managed to place a knife directly into his throat. As I did, a bullet pierced through my stomach. We both fell to the ground and began bleeding out. As my consciousness faded, I looked at him and whispered: “today, I killed two monsters.”
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Ideas of Love and Life from the Tribes of Chhattisgarh.
Ideas I gathered on sexual freedom, relationships, food and sustainability, while spending time with the tribes of Chhattisgarh.
“Woh log peeche chhooth gaye (they got left behind).”
“They have a special status because [economic] development didn’t reach them.“
These were words I heard again and again in Chhattisgarh, referring to the many indigenous tribes in the state.
Many of them traditionally lived in mud and bamboo houses in the forest. Often cultivating a small patch of land, burning it and moving every few years. Many wore nothing but a rag around their waste, multiple tattoos, combs in their hair and handmade ornaments. They lived off the land, worshipped nature, practiced animist rituals and survived on minimal possessions. The forest and local healers catered to their medical needs.
And yet, they are considered backward because money and modern comforts hold little importance in their off-the-grid lives.
Also read: The Last Surviving Indigenous Cave Dwellers of Sri Lanka
Many conversations were lost in translation at the local haats but laughter knows no language.
I was lucky to spend a couple of weeks with the amazing folks from Bastar Tribal Homestay and Bhoramdeo Jungle Retreat – who work closely with the tribes of Chhattisgarh. That gave me a chance to meet and engage with tribal elders, craftsmen, healers, cattle herders, anganwadi teachers and social workers.
Here are some life lessons I gleaned from the various tribes of Chhattisgarh:
In this post:
The freedom to experiment with sexuality and choose a life partner in a ‘ghotul’
A farm-to-table diet featuring millets, moringa, mahua and more superfoods
A rational approach to live-in relationships, ‘dowry’ and divorce
If we take the cow’s milk, what will happen to the calf?
A sustainable life through nomadism, barefoot living and upcycling
A village can raise a kid, literally
Have you gathered any fascinating ideas of love and life on your travels?
The freedom to experiment with sexuality and choose a life partner in a ‘ghotul’
Together for so long that they’ve forgotten how long.
“The message of the ghotul—that youth must be served, that freedom and happiness are more to be treasured than any material gain, that friendliness and sympathy, hospitality and unity are of the first importance, and above all that human love—and its physical expression—is beautiful, clean and precious, is typically Indian.”
So wrote Verrier Elwin of the controversial ghotul of the Muria and Gond tribes in Central India. His insightful books, written from his perspective as an anthropologist and ethnologist, document tribal life and customs that are slowly being eroded.
One such custom is that of the ghotul – a sort of commune that functions after nightfall, whose members are young (unmarried) teenagers. Legend has it that the first of its kind was built by their celebrated ancestor Lingo.
Within its physical confines, the members are taught both, the social responsibilities of the tribe: music, dance, respecting elders, tribal traditions, bonding over natural brews, cooking. And the individual, consensual exploration of one’s sexuality, with one or multiple partners, with or without emotional attachment. Most importantly, without judgement.
On the other hand, in the regressive contemporary society of India, even public displays of affection – let alone pre-marital sex – are considered taboo.
Many families will disown their daughters for choosing to be in a consensual relationship. But wouldn’t hesitate to forcibly marry them off to a complete stranger, whose demands she must pander to even on their first night together.
Although ghotuls were an essential part of life for the Muriya and Gond tribes of Chhattisgarh’s Bastar region, many have been shut down on suspicion of naxal activities. Others have fallen prey to the influences of ‘modern’ society, ‘urban’ education and religion.
I was amused to read a Gond social worker report that in one ghotul, the evening now begins with a recitation of the gayatri mantra!
Perhaps it’s time to look past our dogmatic religions, whatever they may be, and learn from the so called ‘backward’ people, the original dwellers of this land.
I’m sure we can learn a thing or three about social interaction, sexual freedom, gender equality and the right to choose who to love.
Also read: How Travelling Changed My Perspective on Getting Married and Having Kids
A farm-to-table diet featuring millets, moringa, mahua and more superfoods
Corns adorn the ceiling in traditional Gond houses.
Long before the green revolution transformed indigenous diets in India, the tribes of Chhattisgarh cultivated and consumed foods that are now globally recognized as superfoods.
In a village of the Baiga tribe in the Kawardha region, cut off from the road by a river, I met a woman brewing mahua liquor under a stunning old mahua tree. It was just after breakfast, but she insisted I try it. With a spoon carved from wood, she poured some into a leaf folded into a cup – a hot, bitter, woody taste that I never quite acquired!
Although mahua is blamed for alcoholism among the tribes now, it was once dried and made into mahua rotis or laddoos – packed with abundant energy!
From various elders in Bastar and Kawardha, I gathered that the traditional diet once consisted of kodo millet, moringa and legumes – all high on the nutritional quotient.
In the local haats (tribal markets), I saw root veggies like alookanda, varieties of beans, and snacks made with pumpkin – none of which I could recognize from our regular diets. In the harsh summer, instead of water, many tribes drink paich – a nutritious drink made by soaking rice or millet.
At a Gond village home, we feasted on kandul lentils – grown in the forest. Once cultivated, they are dried, packed up in sihadi leaves, stitched together with sihadi ropes and can last upto two years!
On a hike, we spotted chidchidi, the seeds of which have a hallucinogenic effect that convinces your mind that you’re not hungry for days.
Unfortunately like in most of India, the indigenous diet of Central India too is fast being replaced by rice and wheat. Leading to malnutrition, poor growth among children and health complications among adults.
As we aspire to healthier lifestyles, perhaps the tribes of Chhattisgarh could help us dig out the sustainable superfoods they once embraced.
Also read: Chhattigarh: Tribal Life, Motorcycle Adventures and a Lingering Sadness
A rational approach to live-in relationships, ‘dowry’ and divorce
A ring for every wedding attended; a rough gauge of age among some tribes of Chhattisgarh!
When it comes to marriage, the ideas of compulsion and dowry drive me crazy.
In India, people in their late twenties and early thirties are considered ticking time-bombs who must not miss the marriage window.
It’s bad enough that married women are expected to dissociate from their house / family and join their husband’s. As an earning member of the family, or even as a member who contributes to household chores, that’s a loss to the woman’s family. But in our grand patriarchal scheme of things, it’s the woman’s family that must also pay dowry to the man’s – for taking their “burden” off.
Make no mistake, the practice of dowry, though now illegal, continues in urban and rural India. Modern, forward-thinking families in the cities may refrain from using the term itself, but many still expect the woman to bring with her expensive household “gifts”.
I’ve witnessed that first-hand twice in my extended family.
On the other hand, the tribes of Chhattisgarh who seemingly “got left behind” in the race for modernity, possess far more practical views on relationships.
It’s socially acceptable – and infact the norm in many communities – for a couple to live together without formally being married. If they are driven by love and compatible with each other, what’s the need for a formal ceremony, a legal document or a dedicated celebration to endorse their commitment?
When a couple does decide to marry, the “dowry” works in reverse. Since the woman’s family is losing an earning / contributing member, the man’s must compensate their loss – usually by footing the bill of the celebration or with the much-desired Mahua liquor.
In the Baiga tribe, the rules of divorce are simple too. First, it’s socially understandable for a couple to choose that they no longer want to be together. Second, if the woman initiates the separation, her new companion must compensate the old one for the expenses he bore for the wedding or Mahua.
Practical, honest and not two-faced like our “modern” society, right?
Also read: Can Responsible Tourism in India Challenge Patriarchy?
If we take the cow’s milk, what will happen to the calf?
Instead of milk or water, people drink paich – made by soaking rice or millet in water.
I vividly remember the first conversation I had with my host from Bastar Tribal Homestay when I met him at the bus stop, after a long ride from Raipur.
Over the phone, I had mentioned to him that I don’t consume any animal products. Now even before we made small talk, he told me that the tribes of Chhattisgarh don’t consume milk either!
Why? It’s never been part of their diet. Even though they rear cows to get manure (cow dung) for their fields, they have no idea how to separate them from the calves and take their milk. They worry that if they took the cow’s milk, what would happen to the calf?
Turned out, my host had worked with the veterinary department in the past, on a scheme to distribute cows to poor households in Bastar, hoping they would earn money off the milk. The scheme failed badly, for no one knew how to or was willing to milk the cows!
This is easy to observe in the tribal haats too, where I didn’t spot a single product made of milk.
The tribes that were once nomadic hunter-gatherers still hunt and consume meat. Goats and other animals are still sacrificed at their festivals. Infact, even human sacrifices were common till after India’s independence. Rumor has it that unwelcome visitors in the area were often captured and sacrificed!
In the “modern” world, we’ve moved towards horrific ways of raising, mass producing, enslaving and genetically altering animals for meat, milk and eggs. But I felt reassured that atleast India’s ancient wisdom recognizes that a cow’s milk is for her calf, just like a human mother’s milk is for her baby.
Also read: How to Travel as a Vegan and Find Incredible Food Anywhere in the World
A sustainable life through nomadism, barefoot living and upcycling
A glimpse of life in a Gond village deep in the forests of Bastar.
Minimalism, zero waste, upcycling and detoxing have become buzzwords globally. But for the tribes of Chhattisgarh, they’ve long been a way of life.
My hosts at Bhoramdeo Jungle Retreat shared an intriguing story of a local shaman. While staying at his house with some of their guests, the shaman advised that the guests be dropped off to an airport and my hosts return home immediately, abandoning their plans to stay in Raipur for a couple of days. An earthquake was on its way, the shaman said.
My hosts brushed him off, but somehow ended up abandoning their plans to stay in Raipur anyway.
Surprisingly enough, the earthquake shook the earth just as the shaman had predicted. They rushed back to his house to ask how he knew. The shaman pointed to his bare feet, and said the earth had told him.
We can discredit ancient ways of connecting with nature, but the truth is we are constantly chasing them in fancier ways. We burn big holes in our pockets at detox retreats where we can walk barefoot and feel connected to earth.
My host often joked that for many tribes, “the forest is mother, the tiger is brother!” For centuries, they’ve lived off the forest, cultivating small patches of land, then burning it and moving on, giving it a chance to heal back into a forest. Even as hunters, they hunted for survival, not for the pleasure of taste.
In Bastar, I spent an afternoon observing craftsmen who specialise in bell metal crafts, passed down from one generation to another. Designated “other backward castes”, I was surprised to learn that these craftsmen upcycle used metal (from kitchen ware, appliances etc) in a long painstaking process, to create incredible ornaments.
Natural upcycling is common in everyday life too. The sargi shrub is used to brush teeth, its leaves to make plates and its seeds to wash clothes. Beds are made from strong sihadi ropes. And gulal for holi is made by boiling flame of the forest flowers!
Instead of reinventing the entire wheel in practicing urban sustainability, we’d be better off learning from our not-so-backward past.
Also read: Sustainable Living Ideas to Embrace in the New “Normal“
A village can raise a kid, literally
Sometimes it really takes a village to raise a kid.
In India (and perhaps elsewhere), when couples have problems in their marital life, having a kid is often recommended as the solution. In a separation or divorce situation, society looks down upon the parents, especially the mother, for raising their child in a “broken” home.
Unfortunately, the toxicity of many home environments slips notice.
Which is why, I was amazed to hear from my hosts in Kawardha how the Baiga tribe of Chhattisgarh sorts out such complex situations without legal recourse.
If a couple with a kid choose to separate, the woman has the first right to decide if she wants to raise the kid. If she decides that single parenthood isn’t for her, the man gets to choose if it’s for him.
If neither parent wants to take on the responsibility, the community assigns a guardian to raise the child until the age of fifteen, with the rest of the village chipping in. More importantly, the woman can choose to leave without any stigma.
Perhaps as parents, you’d think that’s a bit brutal. But who’s to say that a child raised in a toxic household, by a parent who doesn’t feel up to the task, will have a better life than one raised with love by an entire village?
Have you gathered any fascinating ideas of love and life on your travels?
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FAHM17 - Ocotber 22, Santiago Tolentino Pacheco
Meet Santiago Tolentino Pacheco, a sophomore at Northeastern from Los Angeles, California. He is a Filipino-American who grew up with influence from Filipino culture.
How did you become aware of your cultural identity?
I became aware of the fact I am Filipino because my mom has always pointed out every Filipino thing she comes across. From flags or national iconography, Filipino restaurants or food, and especially any celebrities that had at least one drop of Filipino blood in them.
How much do you identify with the history of the Philippines?
Being Mexican and Filipino, there's a lot of cultural and historical overlap between my two cultures due to the colonization by Spain. I see similar foods, practices, and last names in both of the communities I am a part of.
Is religion important in your household? Describe a situation illustrating why or why not.
Religion isn't particularly important in my household. My family was the type to only go to church twice a year (Christmas and Easter). Even then, if there was no family around we might not have gone.
Have you ever struggled with your racial/ethnic/cultural identity? Describe this struggle and how you overcame it.
Growing up, I moved a lot, nearly every two years. Going from town to town and school to school, it was always difficult for me to make and keep friends. Despite this, the first friends I usually made where white or sometimes East-Asian. It was always more difficult to relate to the other Mexican or Filipino kids because both my parent were very Americanized, so growing up I didn't have that much exposure or knowledge of those cultures. This made it often hard to immediately relate to the other “brown” kids. Up until my sophomore year of high school I spent most of my social time with white people, which influenced how I spoke, dressed, and viewed myself. I literally looked like a white frat dude, from the Sperrys up to the brightly colored button downs. I was lucky though, when I moved to a new town for high school it was very diverse. I met so many people with an intense sense of cultural pride and with behaviors that I better understood. Even though I was always around white kids, their behaviors were difficult to understand since it was so much different than what was expected of me or of my cousins. Finally seeing and interacting with people that held intense cultural pride was very important to me overcoming my struggle with my identity. Over the course of the next few years, I became more willing to listen to anything my parents, family or friends had to say about Filipino or Mexican culture. It even led be to do some discovering on my own. I grew so much more proud of myself and where I was from. Sadly, I did feel guilt for how much I had rejected my identity and culture while growing up. I'll always regret that I turned down so many opportunities to learn, but now I'm so much happier with myself and with the learning opportunities that college has given me.
What are you most proud of as a Filipino/Filipino-American?
I would say I'm proud of how much pride the Filipino community has for each of its members. No matter how small the achievement may seem, if you're a Filipino achieving something, there will be a million other Filipino's celebrating your achievements with you.
For those not from the Philippines, have you ever been to there? Tell a story or favorite memory from you visit!
I visited the Philippines this summer, it was such a special experience for me because it had been nearly 15 years from the last time I was there. I stayed at my family home in Manila where I saw my ya-ya (she used to give baths, tabo-tabo style), got home cooked food for every meal, and looked through numerous photo albums and heard even more fascinating stories about my family members. I visited Santa Maria in Ilocos Sur, the town my mother's parents were from. Went sight-seeing, island hopping, and spent time at a beach resort in Panglao, Bohol. My favorite part though, was going clubbing for the first time ever! On the first day we arrived in the Philippines, we went to this club-complex called the Palace in Bonifacio Global City aka BGC aka The Fort. We were there from 10pm to 4am and had an great time. And by "we" I mean myself, my sister, my mom, aunt and uncle, and their two kids. lol.
What do you feel most grateful for your life?
I feel most grateful for my parents. During my early adolescence, I, like most young people, was going though a lot. Through the difficult times between myself or within our family, my parents have always been incredibly supportive and understanding of my needs. They didn't treat me like a child, they approached me in a respectful and loving way and tried having real conversations with me in order to understand what I was going through. As a young teenager, I initially kept everything to myself. At this point though, I'm comfortable telling them (almost) anything and it's made my relationship with my parents that much stronger.
What has been one of your biggest regrets in life so far?
My biggest regret in life was allowing my fear and insecurities to rule me. For so much of my life I was hesitant to embrace my passions. From the way I acted and dressed, to who I hung out with and what things I got involved with. All of these were so influenced by my fears of not fitting in. After all of that inauthentic living, I realize now that the best thing to do is to be your absolute self and no matter how crazy that may seem to some, there will undoubtedly be people who will understand and celebrate who you are.
Where do you see yourself in 10 years?
I want to be back in Los Angeles, working in the pharmaceutical industry, paying off my loans and saving up to travel the world.
What traditions have been passed down your family?
I'm really lucky to have had so many family members so close to me growing up. Every month, we made it a point to have some sort of pot-luck celebration, a holiday, birthday, or for no particular reason, where everyone would show up with great food and our family could bond and catch up.
Describe your immediate/household family.
I have a sister who is 15 months older than me, and my dad and mom who are separated.
Describe an extended family member you are most attached to and the relationship you have with him/her.
My two aunts, Aileen and Amy. They're twins and two out of the eleven siblings in my mom's generation. I, as well as my sister, and most of my cousins were very close to them. They were of the youngest in their generation and were always the "cool aunts." They didn't let us run wild or spoil us; they were cool because they were so good at talking to kids and teenagers. In their professions they both worked with young people, so they knew how to approach me and talk to me about anything. It didn’t matter if we were talking about something good, bad, or neutral, they were just people I could talk to for any reason and feel really validated since they were "grown-ups."
Is having a knowledge of family history important? Why or why not?
I believe knowledge of family history is incredibly important. It can be a source of pride, effect the way you see the world, or just be fun stories that can be passed on and on and on.
What does it mean to be successful in your family?
To be a hard worker. The work you do has no impact on how "successful" you are, it's the effort that counts.
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