#had the most fun with drawing dumpty humpty i think

[coffeecakecafe]

had a lot of fun with these spreads for @casperhighzine

it was a really great project with a great group of creators!

#danny phantom #dp zines #casper high yearbook zine #my art #zine art #textless cause the text was someone else's lol #had the most fun with drawing dumpty humpty i think #and skulker in the school haunted house bc that's hilarious

[thediverismylove]

LOVER TRACK BY TRACK REVIEW

i forgot that you existed — don’t like the beginning she sounds like a robot lol. “in my feelings more than drake”??? girl no thank you. not a big fan of this song. 3/10. fave lyric is “it isn’t love / it isn’t hate / it’s just indifference”; least fave is “in my feelings more than drake, yeah”.

cruel summer — love the production on this one! her voice sounds really good and i love the way she sings “cruel summer”. 8.5/10. fave lyric is “so cut the headlights / summer’s a knife / i’m always waiting for you just to cut to the bone”; no least fave lyrics here!

lover — the TENDERNESS of this song! love how easy and pretty and acoustic it it is. 9.5/10. fave lyric is “my heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue / all’s well that ends well to end up with you”; no least fave again!

the man — okay “when everyone believes you / what’s that like?” wig! also when she’s like if i was a man…….then i’d be the man…….and the synths do That in the background? it does feel very Feminism 101 in the verses but the chorus is fun! idk i expected more from this one and it’s def fun but not an all time fave. 6/10. fave lyric is “i’m so sick of running as fast as i can / wondering if i’d get there quicker if i was a man”; least fave is “and they would toast to me, oh, let the players play / i’d be just like leo in saint tropez”.

the archer — SO gorgeous and vulnerable! love the gentle and introspective vibes of this one and how simple the backing track is. her voice is so pretty in this one! would love to hear this totally acoustic. 9.5/10. fave lyric is “i cut off my nose just to spite my face / and i hate my reflection for years and years”; least fave is the pre-chorus bit that’s similar to humpty dumpty you know the one lol.

i think he knows — ugh hate the intro again talky-singing works well for her sometimes but it really doesn’t work here. very bored by this one. it feels like it’s trying so hard to be fun but it doesn’t have particularly interesting instrumentals/synths/whatever and her voice is way too talky-singy for me here. the last chorus is kinda fun but not enough to fix the whole song. 4/10. favorite lyric is “he got my heartbeat / skipping down sixteenth avenue baby”; least fave is “he got that boyish look that i like in a man / i am an architect, i’m drawing up the plans”.

miss americana & the heartbreak prince — pretty intro! the talky-singing works a little better for me here. the pageant/prom conceit is fun. very amused by her still comparing her adult life to high school prom considering she left high school at like what 15/16 for music? jdeasjkkjcskjn it’s fun tho this song is fun. i have a feeling this one will grow on me. 8/10. fave lyric is “we're so sad, we paint the town blue / voted most likely to run away with you”; least fave is the “she’s a bad bad girl bit” lol 

paper rings — ooh fun intro! like whatever effect they have over her voice. this one has a really cool beat. like the kiss me once/kiss me twice bit. the chorus is really sweet! the tune is very dance-worthy. i could def see this being played in a romcom (cue me adding it to the playlist for my gay summer camp romcom). didn’t expect to like this one so much but i’m enjoying it a lot so far! idk abt the lyrics im not even listening that closely jfekwjakjnkjn i just love the beat and the effect they have over her voice. also can’t stop thinking about when rey @theglowpt2 said “wrap your arms around me, baby boy” sounds something the try guys would shout at each other lmfao. 8.5/10. fave lyric is “darling, you’re the one i want / and paper rings and picture frames and dirty dreams / oh, you’re the one i want”; least fave is “wrap your arms around me, baby boy” bc of aforementioned try guys energies making it humorous instead of cute as intended for me.

cornelia street — like her voice in the intro it sounds very pretty and soft! don’t like the weird synth thing going on at the beginning tho it’s giving me a headache. don’t like the way she launches into the chorus it feels very abrupt. “we bless the rains on cornelia street” lol is this a toto ref? this one is pretty underwhelming ngl. her voice is pretty in some places here though. would probably enjoy an acoustic version of this a lot more. 6/10. fave lyric is “and baby, i get mystified by how this city screams your name”; no least fave lyric but i hate those loud synth things at the beginning more than anything.

 death by a thousand cuts — totally thought this was gonna be a song about like. bitter ~haters~ or smth by the title. her voice is really pretty after the “my my my” bit! love the synths in this one. the line about the traffic lights…...wig! okay totally expected to not like this one but i kinda like it. laughing at her going “UNITED WE STAND” tho lmfao. this one will def grow on me. 8/10. fave lyric is “i ask the traffic lights if it’ll be alright / they say i don’t know”; least fave is “our songs, our films, united we stand / our country, guess it was a lawless land”.

london boy — oh excited for the absolute INSANITY of this one girls! DID SHE JUST REFER TO HER HOMETOWN AS SOCAL GIRL YOU ARE FROM PENNSYLVANIA!!!!! also so amused about she needs to reference the fact that she is american and her bf is british so many times. if i heard this song out in public i’d have to die. did she make a p!atd ref lol. unfortunate as hell but it’s kinda fun. 4/10. fave is none of it; least fave is all of it. 

 soon you’ll get better — oh this one is gonna make me SOB i just know it!!!! the vulnerableness of it all. thank you for a song about family ms taylor! the harmonies w the dixie chicks i’m ascending. this one is so so gorgeous and heartbreaking and the first song off this album that actually really made me Feel Something. 10/10. fave lyric is “the buttons of my coat were tangled in my hair / in doctor’s office lighting / i didn’t tell you i was scared”; no least fave!!! She’s Perfect

 false god — intro is fun! i like her voice in this one it’s #sexi. the line abt being nyc is funny lol…..girl what does that mean you are not a town what does that MEAAAAN. taylor swift said YES i fuck what about it in this song. the line about being the west village…...what does that mean? he’s expensive??? 6.5/10. fave lyric is “the altar is my hips / even if it’s a false god / we’d still worship this love”; least fave is “staring out the window like i’m not your favorite town / i’m new york city, i’d still do it for you, babe”.

 you need to calm down — i REFUUUUSE to listen to this song all the way it’s so corny and ridiculous. taylor rly thot she was doing smth w this one. 3.5/10. no fave lyric; least fave is like. ALL of it it’s very cheesy.

 afterglow — pretty vocals! love me some vulnerable songs. not much to say about this one lol. i like the chorus a lot. 7.5/10. fave lyric is “fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves / chemistry 'til it blows up, 'til there’s no us / why'd I have to break what i love so much?”; least fave is “tell me that it’s not my fault / tell me that i’m all you want / even when i break your heart”.

 me! — unpopular opinion but i actually prefer me! to yntcd. idk why i just feel like me! knows how ridiculous and silly it is but yntcd does not. maybe that’s just me tho? 4/10. can’t believe she killed the best line of all time aka “hey kids spelling is fun”...that was HILARIOUSLY BAD AND WONDERFUL AT THE SAME TIME. that would’ve been the fave; least fave is the awkward uncomfortable space where “hey kids spelling is fun” used to be.

 it’s nice to have a friend — very forgettable. her vocals here are pretty but the song overall is nothing special imo. do like the dreamy vibes tho! 4.5/10. fave or least fave lyrics tbh it’s just boring to me pretty but boring.

 daylight — WHY is taylor swift so obsessed w/ mentioning that some of her friends turned out to be dicks. absolutely OBSESSED w/ that edit that’s like “i wounded the good and trusted the wicked” over katy perry and karlie kloss respectively it’s peak comedy. very pretty vocals but has some unfortunate lyrics! 5.5/10. fave lyric is “i, i just think that / you are what you love”; least fave is “i wounded the good and i trusted the wicked / clearing the air, i breathed in the smoke”.

overall: probably like a 6.5/10? had some really great tracks like lover & the archer & soon you’ll get better but also some BAD ones like me!, yntcd, and i forgot that you existed. it was a fun time but not an all time fave. in terms of tswift album rankings i’m not sure where i’d put it yet get back to me on that one. anyways i’m gonna go listen to lucy dacus now bye

#taylor swift #lover #lover review #enjoy lads.....

[shirinholm]

The Fir Tree by H. C. Andersen (translation by Jean Hersholt) Out in the woods stood such a pretty little fir tree. It grew in a good place, where it had plenty of sun and plenty of fresh air. Around it stood many tall comrades, both fir trees and pines. The little fir tree was in a headlong hurry to grow up. It didn't care a thing for the warm sunshine, or the fresh air, and it took no interest in the peasant children who ran about chattering when they came to pick strawberries or raspberries. Often when the children had picked their pails full, or had gathered long strings of berries threaded on straws, they would sit down to rest near the little fir. "Oh, isn't it a nice little tree?" they would say. "It's the baby of the woods." The little tree didn't like their remarks at all. Next year it shot up a long joint of new growth, and the following year another joint, still longer. You can always tell how old a fir tree is by counting the number of joints it has. "I wish I were a grown-up tree, like my comrades," the little tree sighed. "Then I could stretch out my branches and see from my top what the world is like. The birds would make me their nesting place, and when the wind blew I could bow back and forth with all the great trees." It took no pleasure in the sunshine, nor in the birds. The glowing clouds, that sailed overhead at sunrise and sunset, meant nothing to it. In winter, when the snow lay sparkling on the ground, a hare would often come hopping along and jump right over the little tree. Oh, how irritating that was! That happened for two winters, but when the third winter came the tree was so tall that the hare had to turn aside and hop around it. "Oh, to grow, grow! To get older and taller," the little tree thought. "That is the most wonderful thing in this world." In the autumn, woodcutters came and cut down a few of the largest trees. This happened every year. The young fir was no longer a baby tree, and it trembled to see how those stately great trees crashed to the ground, how their limbs were lopped off, and how lean they looked as the naked trunks were loaded into carts. It could hardly recognize the trees it had known, when the horses pulled them out of the woods. Where were they going? What would become of them? In the springtime, when swallows and storks came back, the tree asked them, "Do you know where the other trees went? Have you met them?" The swallows knew nothing about it, but the stork looked thoughtful and nodded his head. "Yes, I think I met them," he said. "On my way from Egypt I met many new ships, and some had tall, stately masts. They may well have been the trees you mean, for I remember the smell of fir. They wanted to be remembered to you." "Oh, I wish I were old enough to travel on the sea. Please tell me what it really is, and how it looks." "That would take too long to tell," said the stork, and off he strode. "Rejoice in your youth," said the sunbeams. "Take pride in your growing strength and in the stir of life within you." And the wind kissed the tree, and the dew wept over it, for the tree was young and without understanding. When Christmas came near, many young trees were cut down. Some were not even as old or as tall as this fir tree of ours, who was in such a hurry and fret to go traveling. These young trees, which were always the handsomest ones, had their branches left on them when they were loaded on carts and the horses drew them out of the woods. "Where can they be going?" the fir tree wondered. "They are no taller than I am. One was really much smaller than I am. And why are they allowed to keep all their branches? "Where can they be going?" "We know! We know!" the sparrows chirped. "We have been to town and peeped in the windows. We know where they are going. The greatest splendor and glory you can imagine awaits them. We've peeped through windows. We've seen them planted right in the middle of a warm room, and decked out with the most splendid things-gold apples, good gingerbread, gay toys, and many hundreds of candles." "And then?" asked the fir tree, trembling in every twig. "And then? What happens then?" "We saw nothing more. And never have we seen anything that could match it." "I wonder if I was created for such a glorious future?" The fir tree rejoiced. "Why, that is better than to cross the sea. I'm tormented with longing. Oh, if Christmas would only come! I'm just as tall and grown-up as the trees they chose last year. How I wish I were already in the cart, on my way to the warm room where there's so much splendor and glory. Then-then something even better, something still more important is bound to happen, or why should they deck me so fine? Yes, there must be something still grander! But what? Oh, how I long: I don't know what's the matter with me." "Enjoy us while you may," the air and sunlight told him. "Rejoice in the days of your youth, out here in the open." But the tree did not rejoice at all. It just grew. It grew and was green both winter and summer-dark evergreen. People who passed it said, "There's a beautiful tree!" And when Christmas time came again they cut it down first. The ax struck deep into its marrow. The tree sighed as it fell to the ground. It felt faint with pain. Instead of the happiness it had expected, the tree was sorry to leave the home where it had grown up. It knew that never again would it see its dear old comrades, the little bushes and the flowers about it-and perhaps not even the birds. The departure was anything but pleasant. The tree did not get over it until all the trees were unloaded in the yard, and it heard a man say, "That's a splendid one. That's the tree for us." Then two servants came in fine livery, and carried the fir tree into a big splendid drawing-room. Portraits were hung all around the walls. On either side of the white porcelain stove stood great Chinese vases, with lions on the lids of them. There were easy chairs, silk-covered sofas and long tables strewn with picture books, and with toys that were worth a mint of money, or so the children said. The fir tree was planted in a large tub filled with sand, but no one could see that it was a tub, because it was wrapped in a gay green cloth and set on a many-colored carpet. How the tree quivered! What would come next? The servants and even the young ladies helped it on with its fine decorations. From its branches they hung little nets cut out of colored paper, and each net was filled with candies. Gilded apples and walnuts hung in clusters as if they grew there, and a hundred little white, blue, and even red, candles were fastened to its twigs. Among its green branches swayed dolls that it took to be real living people, for the tree had never seen their like before. And up at its very top was set a large gold tinsel star. It was splendid, I tell you, splendid beyond all words! "Tonight," they all said, "ah, tonight how the tree will shine!" "Oh," thought the tree, "if tonight would only come! If only the candles were lit! And after that, what happens then? Will the trees come trooping out of the woods to see me? Will the sparrows flock to the windows? Shall I take root here, and stand in fine ornaments all winter and summer long?" That was how much it knew about it. All its longing had gone to its bark and set it to arching, which is as bad for a tree as a headache is for us. Now the candles were lighted. What dazzling splendor! What a blaze of light! The tree quivered so in every bough that a candle set one of its twigs ablaze. It hurt terribly. "Mercy me!" cried every young lady, and the fire was quickly put out. The tree no longer dared rustle a twig-it was awful! Wouldn't it be terrible if it were to drop one of its ornaments? Its own brilliance dazzled it. Suddenly the folding doors were thrown back, and a whole flock of children burst in as if they would overturn the tree completely. Their elders marched in after them, more sedately. For a moment, but only for a moment, the young ones were stricken speechless. Then they shouted till the rafters rang. They danced about the tree and plucked off one present after another. "What are they up to?" the tree wondered. "What will happen next?" As the candles burned down to the bark they were snuffed out, one by one, and then the children had permission to plunder the tree. They went about it in such earnest that the branches crackled and, if the tree had not been tied to the ceiling by the gold star at top, it would have tumbled headlong. The children danced about with their splendid playthings. No one looked at the tree now, except an old nurse who peered in among the branches, but this was only to make sure that not an apple or fig had been overlooked. "Tell us a story! Tell us a story!" the children clamored, as they towed a fat little man to the tree. He sat down beneath it and said, "Here we are in the woods, and it will do the tree a lot of good to listen to our story. Mind you, I'll tell only one. Which will you have, the story of Ivedy-Avedy, or the one about Humpty-Dumpty who tumbled downstairs, yet ascended the throne and married the Princess?" "Ivedy-Avedy," cried some. "Humpty-Dumpty," cried the others. And there was a great hullabaloo. Only the fir tree held its peace, though it thought to itself, "Am I to be left out of this? Isn't there anything I can do?" For all the fun of the evening had centered upon it, and it had played its part well. The fat little man told them all about Humpty-Dumpty, who tumbled downstairs, yet ascended the throne and married the Princess. And the children clapped and shouted, "Tell us another one! Tell us another one!" For they wanted to hear about Ivedy-Avedy too, but after Humpty-Dumpty the story telling stopped. The fir tree stood very still as it pondered how the birds in the woods had never told it a story to equal this. "Humpty-Dumpty tumbled downstairs, yet he married the Princess. Imagine! That must be how things happen in the world. You never can tell. Maybe I'll tumble downstairs and marry a princess too," thought the fir tree, who believed every word of the story because such a nice man had told it. The tree looked forward to the following day, when they would deck it again with fruit and toys, candles and gold. "Tomorrow I shall not quiver," it decided. "I'll enjoy my splendor to the full. Tomorrow I shall hear about Humpty-Dumpty again, and perhaps about Ivedy-Avedy too." All night long the tree stood silent as it dreamed its dreams, and next morning the butler and the maid came in with their dusters. "Now my splendor will be renewed," the fir tree thought. But they dragged it upstairs to the garret, and there they left it in a dark corner where no daylight ever came. "What's the meaning of this?" the tree wondered. "What am I going to do here? What stories shall I hear?" It leaned against the wall, lost in dreams. It had plenty of time for dreaming, as the days and the nights went by. Nobody came to the garret. And when at last someone did come, it was only to put many big boxes away in the corner. The tree was quite hidden. One might think it had been entirely forgotten. "It's still winter outside," the tree thought. "The earth is too hard and covered with snow for them to plant me now. I must have been put here for shelter until springtime comes. How thoughtful of them! How good people are! Only, I wish it weren't so dark here, and so very, very lonely. There's not even a little hare. It was so friendly out in the woods when the snow was on the ground and the hare came hopping along. Yes, he was friendly even when he jumped right over me, though I did not think so then. Here it's all so terribly lonely." "Squeak, squeak!" said a little mouse just then. He crept across the floor, and another one followed him. They sniffed the fir tree, and rustled in and out among its branches. "It is fearfully cold," one of them said. "Except for that, it would be very nice here, wouldn't it, you old fir tree?" "I'm not at all old," said the fir tree. "Many trees are much older than I am." "Where did you come from?" the mice asked him. "And what do you know?" They were most inquisitive creatures. "Tell us about the most beautiful place in the world. Have you been there? Were you ever in the larder, where there are cheeses on shelves and hams that hang from the rafters? It's the place where you can dance upon tallow candles-where you can dart in thin and squeeze out fat." "I know nothing of that place," said the tree. "But I know the woods where the sun shines and the little birds sing." Then it told them about its youth. The little mice had never heard the like of it. They listened very intently, and said, "My! How much you have seen! And how happy it must have made you." "I?" the fir tree thought about it. "Yes, those days were rather amusing." And he went on to tell them about Christmas Eve, when it was decked out with candies and candles. "Oh," said the little mice, "how lucky you have been, you old fir tree!" "I am not at all old," it insisted. "I came out of the woods just this winter, and I'm really in the prime of life, though at the moment my growth is suspended." "How nicely you tell things," said the mice. The next night they came with four other mice to hear what the tree had to say. The more it talked, the more clearly it recalled things, and it thought, "Those were happy times. But they may still come back-they may come back again. Humpty-Dumpty fell downstairs, and yet he married the Princess. Maybe the same thing will happen to me." It thought about a charming little birch tree that grew out in the woods. To the fir tree she was a real and lovely Princess. "Who is Humpty-Dumpty?" the mice asked it. So the fir tree told them the whole story, for it could remember it word by word. The little mice were ready to jump to the top of the tree for joy. The next night many more mice came to see the fir tree, and on Sunday two rats paid it a call, but they said that the story was not very amusing. This made the little mice to sad that they began to find it not so very interesting either. "Is that the only story you know?" the rats asked. "Only that one," the tree answered. "I heard it on the happiest evening of my life, but I did not know then how happy I was." "It's a very silly story. Don't you know one that tells about bacon and candles? Can't you tell us a good larder story?" "No," said the tree. "Then good-by, and we won't be back," the rats said, and went away. At last the little mice took to staying away too. The tree sighed, "Oh, wasn't it pleasant when those gay little mice sat around and listened to all that I had to say. Now that, too, is past and gone. But I will take good care to enjoy myself, once they let me out of here." When would that be? Well, it came to pass on a morning when people came up to clean out the garret. The boxes were moved, the tree was pulled out and thrown-thrown hard-on the floor. But a servant dragged it at once to the stairway, where there was daylight again. "Now my life will start all over," the tree thought. It felt the fresh air and the first sunbeam strike it as if it came out into the courtyard. This all happened so quickly and there was so much going around it, that the tree forgot to give even a glance at itself. The courtyard adjoined a garden, where flowers were blooming. Great masses of fragrant roses hung over the picket fence. The linden trees were in blossom, and between them the swallows skimmed past, calling, "Tilira-lira-lee, my love's come back to me." But it was not the fir tree of whom they spoke. "Now I shall live again," it rejoiced, and tried to stretch out its branches. Alas, they were withered, and brown, and brittle. It was tossed into a corner, among weeds and nettles. But the gold star that was still tied to its top sparkled bravely in the sunlight. Several of the merry children, who had danced around the tree and taken such pleasure in it at Christmas, were playing in the courtyard. One of the youngest seized upon it and tore off the tinsel star. "Look what is still hanging on that ugly old Christmas tree," the child said, and stamped upon the branches until they cracked beneath his shoes. The tree saw the beautiful flowers blooming freshly in the garden. It saw itself, and wished that they had left it in the darkest corner of the garret. It thought of its own young days in the deep woods, and of the merry Christmas Eve, and of the little mice who had been so pleased when it told them the story of Humpty-Dumpty. "My days are over and past," said the poor tree. "Why didn't I enjoy them while I could? Now they are gone-all gone." A servant came and chopped the tree into little pieces. These heaped together quite high. The wood blazed beautifully under the big copper kettle, and the fir tree moaned so deeply that each groan sounded like a muffled shot. That's why the children who were playing near-by ran to make a circle around the flames, staring into the fire and crying, "Pif! Paf!" But as each groans burst from it, the tree thought of a bright summer day in the woods, or a starlit winter night. It thought of Christmas Eve and thought of Humpty-Dumpty, which was the only story it ever heard and knew how to tell. And so the tree was burned completely away. The children played on in the courtyard. The youngest child wore on his breast the gold star that had topped the tree on its happiest night of all. But that was no more, and the tree was no more, and there's no more to my story. No more, nothing more. All stories come to an end.

#H. C. Andersen #Fairytale #storytelling #christmas #tradition #hygge

[scientifically-strange]

What’s it Like?

Trying something a little new. Instead of third person it’s straight from Danny’s pov

------------------------

What’s it like? 

I always find myself getting asked this, whether it be from Tucker, Dani, Sam, or hell, even Valerie sometimes. And while it doesn't upset me, the question itself is hard to answer, and is tiring to do so after having to do it so many times. 

So what is it like living with the Avengers?

It’s indescribable, really. It’s fun, and annoying, and stressful, and happy, and so many other words, so I think the only way I can properly tell you is if I list them all off one by one. 

Well, let me tell you.

First, I guess I should start with the host himself, Tony Stark. Though you probably know him better as Iron Man. 

He’s everything people say he is, and more. He’s selfish and sarcastic, and is stupidly smart. Yeah, he’s also a playboy, and he never focuses on the important stuff for his company. Instead he pays with desk toys in important meetings. 

Like all of us, Tony has a lot of baggage. We all have our demons, but Tony’s are arguably the worst. Yeah, I fought my older evil self and the ghost king, and Steve was in World War II, but compared to Tony it was a cakewalk. Because Tony’s been through a fucking blender. He’s got serious PTSD from the Incident, from the cave he was tortured in, and a few other things. He copes by drinking unhealthy amounts of coffee spiked with alcohol and monster energy drinks while building several more Iron man armors, all with their own special skills and weapons. 

He also has really bad attachment issues due to his father was never really around, and the father figure he did had tried to kill him. So. 

However, despite all of that, Tony is probably the most caring person on the team. And that’s including Steve. He just doesn’t know how to express it with emotions. So instead, he uses his actions. Thor mentioned one time that he needed to get more lavender (?) shampoo because he ran out, and now there’s a cabinet full of them, just for the thunder god himself.  

There was another time when Clint’s hearing aids got blown up on a mission, and Tony made him everything-proof Stark hearing aids. Clint hasn’t needed a new pair since. And he made Steve and Sam’s rooms soundproof, so that when fireworks go off they can still enjoy the view, but now with less gunshot sounds. 

Tony also really loves to nerd out, which brings me to my next friend, Dr. Bruce Banner. He’s pretty soft spoken, until he starts talking about science. I remember the longest conversation I’ve had with him was when we were talking about space and NASA, which somehow ended up on a conversation of the horrible structure of hot dog buns? Not really sure what happened there...

Bruce always has great advice, and is always in like, a zen sort of mood. He’s not nervous all the time like most people think. No, he’s only fidgety around stressful people, like Fury or Ultron. Which is perfectly understandable considering if he gets to angry or freaked he starts looking a little green around the gills.

That being said, Bruce also makes the best tea on the Compound. Nobody knows what he does to it, but if you’re having a rough day or something he’s got your back. And he’s always got Tony’s back, too. I There was one time when Tony had been up for almost four days and Bruce had come in and put some headphones on Tony, and he passed out immediately. I helped him get Tony to his room, and Bruce kind of took it from there. 

Hulk is pretty nice to. Though, to be fair the first time I met him he was pretty pissed because he couldn’t hit me. But after he calmed down enough, I told him a couple of jokes and he kind of warmed up to me. 

And I told him I could help get the glitter out of his hair.

He still doesn’t know that it sparkles sometimes when crime-fighting. Nobody else has either, but that’s only because they’re to busy kicking ass themselves. 

Steve is kind of like everybody’s dream guy, even if you yourself are a straight guy. He is 240 pounds of All-American beefcake with a heart of gold. His hair is pretty soft too. 

He’s caring, but I’ve recently learned that he;s a little shit. 

You would expect Captain America to be the perfect man, soldier, superhero, whatever. But he isn’t. I don’t even know where anybody got that idea. 

This guy has a police record that’s longer than a list of Mr. Lancer’s book-swears. And he has the worst mouth on him. He stubbed his toe the other day and was cursing up a storm. However, he was cursing in Gaelic. I asked him about it and he said it was his first language due to his parents being Irish immigrants. I hadn't known that before, so that was really nice to know. But it also explained his accent. He had a lot of Brooklyn in it, but every now and then the Gaelic would slip through with it, making for a weird verbal cocktail that never sounded quite right. 

He also has the worst mind out of all of us. It’s worse than Tuckers. His mind may be the gutter, but Steve’s is the fucking sewer. He was telling me about how he thought fondue equaled sexy times, and like? Literally, where did you make that connection? How many other foreign words has he heard and thought it was something sexual? 

It shouldn’t surprise me though, considering he was in the army. 

I could go on and on about Steve’s mouth and reckless behavior, but he, like Tony, has serious PTSD. A lot of it is from the war. He doesn’t like fireworks or loud, sudden noises unless he’s on the battlefield. There was one time I saw him mute a movie during a scene with a train, and I was going to ask him why, but then I saw that far away look in his eyes. It wasn’t my place to pry. 

There’s also something about the sound of Tony’s repulsors powering up, too. It makes Steve tense up like a cat every time he hears it. 

His coping methods are a bit healthier than Tony’s. He likes to draw his thoughts and feelings out. He’s damn good at it to, and while that’s a great thing, sometimes he falls asleep with them open, halfway done, and the shit he draws is so dark and depressing. I kind of worry about him sometimes. 

But Sam’s been helping him though a lot of it. He was stationed overseas for a while before coming back to the states, only to get caught up in the fight again a few years later. He didn’t really seem to mind though. In fact, he seemed happy to do so. Whether or not that was from Captain America asking him to, or because he missed flying, I had no idea. 

But I’ll be damned if I ever go to the park with him again. 

His name is Falcon. He has cool metal wings he uses to fly. That all makes sense, right?

So how the fuck is he talking to pigeons?

I am genuinely worried that one day Sam till take over the world with birds, and h will have them shit on people’s cars and peck out the eyes of Hydra. Or something on the lines of that. However, if he is actually going to do that I think he needs a cooler bird. 

Like a Falcon. 

And as weird as that was, it doesn’t match up to the awkwardness of meeting Natasha “Million Alias” Romanoff. She’s as deadly as she is beautiful, and if I was into her in any way I would probably pay her to beat me up.

It never actually occurred to me that she’s not always being a spy? I mean, yeah, she’s always looking at the ulterior motive, because anyone with her background (which we will not speak of, so don;t even ask) would do the same. But she’s also a shitposting meme generator and has a really popular vine account even though vine is dead? Then again this is Natasha we’re talking about. I don;t wanna know how she does what she does. 

She also steals clothes. SO far she’s stolen one of Tony’s hoodies, a pair of Clint’s sweatpants, a scrunchie from Thor, and one of my old Dumpty Humpty shirts I got at a concert. She also cheats at Monopoly and Cards Against Humanity. I haven’t figured out how she’s done it, but I know she does. Nobody, and I mean nobody, can just fucking win seventeen times in a row. You;d have to be a mind reader to do that shit. Jesus. 

She’s terrifying, and honestly, every time I see her glare the fear of Thor runs through me, but a good portion of that goes away when she’s around Clint. And honestly> I can’t blame her. Clint, out of all of the Avengers I live with, is probably the one I hang out with the most. He’s super chill, and covered head to toe in bandages and has to have an entire pot of coffee just to stay awake. Also, he’s deaf? I had no idea during the Battle of New York, but later I found out that it was because they had broken and his new ones hadn’t come in yet. He’s taught me a lot of sign language so far, and Tucker makes fun of me for practicing it when I’m back in Amity. 

Clint also has a lot of nests. 

He has one on top of the fridge, in the A that’s on the outside of the building, a couple of key spots in the vents, and a board room on the 27th floor under the table because nobody ever uses it and it has a nice view of the sandwich shop right across the street. I’m sure he has more, but those are just the ones that I’ve found. 

Also, his dog is not cuter than Cujo, don’t listen to that asshole. 

Even though Clint chooses to keep his hearing aids out half the time, he still knows when Thor has come back from Asgard. Every single time, no matter where we’re at in the building, he just knows. It’s like a sixth sense. His head perks up, and he gets a dumb grin on his face, but then it quickly falls when he remembers that he ate the rest of the thunder god’s poptarts. 

Thor is really fun to be around. And while I haven’t had a lot of quality bonding time with the dude, Dani has. They sit around and braid each other’s hair all the time, talking about flowers and giant monsters and space. Really, they’re best friends. And it’s adorable.

Don’t tell Jazz I said that.

There are aspects of Thor that remind me a little bit of all of the Avengers. Like Natasha, he can be cunning when he wants to. He’s always got the munchies like Clint, and has great advice like Bruce. Similar to Tony he also struggles with his own demons. But he seems to be most like Steve.

That being said, they are both huge little shits. 

See, Thor likes to prank people. Half the time he uses Mojo (I don;t know how to pronounce the hammer’s name, okay) to fuck with us. I remember he and Natasha handing different house members his hammer while Natasha video taped it. He gets a huge kick out of watching us fall over. I remember when he did it to Steve, who was to zoned out in his paper to even realize what Thor had asked him to hold. He was gobsmacked for a whole week. 

He hasn’t done it to me yet, and I have no idea if that’s because he hasn’t gotten around to it or because he’s still obsessed over me technically being royalty since I beat Pariah Dark, the former king. The first time we met he got down on one knee and bowed. It was the most surreal experience of my life, and that’s including when Tucker had to wear a chicken costume to a Dumpty Humpty concert because he lost a bet to Sam. 

Every time he comes back from Asgard, we shake. But we don’t shake like normal people. It’s a sort of cultural thing. Instead of shaking hands we grip each other’s forearms and squeeze. I kind of like doing that better than a handshake. It seems way cooler. 

So, you ask me what it’s like to live with the Avengers?

Living with them, it feels familiar, like it;s the one thing I’ve been missing my whole life. 

It’s family. 

---------

Also, OC week submissions are open officially if you want me to write them in with a DP and marvel!

#danny phantom #avengers #crossover #drabble #fan ficiton #dp x marvel

[jam2289]

Ideas from the Last Few Months - Part 1 of ?

Ideas for narratives are always coming to me. Stories are the underlying structure of our psychologies and our societies. Sometimes I write these ideas down. Here are a few. (Get ready, it will seem fast and chaotic.)

I like the idea of human clay. I like the Creed songs about human clay, I like the myth of the golem formed from clay as presented in Terry Pratchett's book series "Discworld", I like the story of Prometheus forming man from clay. I think it could be tied into the Adam, Eve, and Lilith story too. I like when they used the idea in the tv show "Warehouse 13". It just seems like more could be done with it.

I like the idea of the sands of time. What if there was an epic quest or battle for the sands of time, but then the sands of time did nothing? That happens with goals and attainments a lot, they are hard to achieve and then they're a let down once achieved. I had that experience with mountain climbing years ago. Now, I always have some value that I'm pursuing in the future so that the feeling of an existential vacuum never encroaches on my psyche, but it's still an important human experience.

What if you have a failed hero that is resurrected? He seeks to redeem himself, but he fails again. That could be a great tragedy. Then, the failed hero is redeemed and possibly resurrected by a successful hero that his failed struggle inspired. Then it's a powerful story about repeated failure, the value of fighting the good fight even if you lose, and a story of redemption and triumph. It sounds epic.

The ancient Egyptian god Isis as a heroine that saves her husband.

What if dragon flames didn't burn heroes, what if the dragon flames shrunk people? A hero is shrunken and eaten by the dragon. Inside of the dragon's belly he finds a group of other heroes playing a game of cards on a shield. He rallies these failed heroes and leads them to a victory in which they are redeemed and resurrected. That seems like an epic children's story.

What about the heroes encounter with the hero?

The Humpty Dumpty problem. That's a tiny story that can be so powerful. I think I could expand on that in interesting ways.

Many authors like to start a story by drawing the map first. "Treasure Island" by Robert Louis Stevenson famously started that way. What about taking the "Atlas of World History" and using the maps as jumping off points for stories? You can make them set in our world, or completely change things for a fantasy setting.

There are old maps of the earth from the ancient world that are quite different than our modern ones. Those could be great settings for stories. I like the one where there are four rivers that emanate from one point in the south.

Moon cycles are interesting. What about a moon cycle curse connected to a bracelet or something?

I wrote a four word story once. There is an article on my blog about it. I could hold a photo, drawing, or painting contest and include the images in a book along with an essay about how closure works in narratives.

I created what I termed a Killer Pacman a couple of decades ago as a doodle on schoolwork. That creature has now morphed into the Butterfly Monster over the last two years of teaching English online to kids in China. I also created a Butterfly Fairy and an enchanted Butterfly Forest. I was even thinking about doing the pictures myself for some children's books. It would be cool to get a real artist to do the same pictures and juxtapose them with mine in a book.

What if there was a Time Capsule Society that was seeking to send a person into the future, a human time capsule? If you travel the speed of light you don't age, meaning you can essentially travel forward in time. Interesting.

What if we combine the Philip K. Dick story of Autofac with the DARPA Eatr bots? Autofac is an automated factory that doesn't need any humans to run, it does the entire process from finding natural resources to producing things and repairing itself. Eatr bots are military walking drones that are designed to eat biological energy sources to fuel themselves. Essentially, they could shoot and then eat people to keep going. A system like that could actually conquer the world. Classic science fiction dystopia, but better, because we actually have the technology.

A kid in middle school notices that socks are disappearing. It's becoming harder and harder to find a pair that match. Is there a monster behind this Sockpocalypse?

A funny of satire where there is a world of peace and prosperity and our minor problems are their major problems. Utopia World Problems.

Restorative justice is promising. It's about the injuring and injured parties agreeing to restitution through any reasonable means. These are stories of the fall, transformation, and redemption.

Would it be fun to tell the mythical story of dragons creating man from clay and fire? I think it would. Prometheus the dragon? Maybe. What if all of the Greek gods were dragons? And all of the Titans too? What if angels were dragons? Angles as dragons with ancient Titan names and myths? Interesting. I am intrigued by all of that.

Sometimes our motivations are just surface motivations. Sometimes our underlying motivations are hidden even from ourselves. Then, when you achieve what you were aiming at you realize that it wasn't what you really wanted. That theme is explored a bit in the show "Wayne".

Using a third person point of view to introduce another character through some specific incident, and then switching to the close third person point of view for the protagonist from there on is interesting. Ursula K. Le Guin did this in one of the "Earthsea Cycle" books.

Can I integrate the novel and the graphic novel? I saw this partially done by a girl named Lily that is about 10 years old and it was thought provoking.

What if a comet hit earth and created hell? Pushed up Antarctica as the mountain of purgatory with the four rivers of the world flowing from it. This is Dante's version of the world.

I like the idea of blood as ink. Maybe there is magical ink blood that when harvested can be used to make magical books.

In the ancient Greek afterlife the heroes went to Elysium, most people went to the grey fields of Asphodel, some people went to the fields of Punishment, and the worst beings went to the black depths of Tartarus. What if the heroes in Elysium were bored, recruited the wandering masses in Asphodel, freed the prisoners from the fields of Punishment, and attacked Tartarus. Could be epic.

Beowulf is an old and odd story about a Viking fighting a monster. A weird modern take on it is "The 13th Warrior" movie with Antonio Banderas, based on a book by Michael Crichton, "Eaters of the Dead". What if the monsters were actual Eatrs, the robot made by DARPA that can consume bodies to fuel itself on the battlefield?

What would have to happen to you for you to become a bad person? What about the reverse process? These are interesting thought experiments. Psychologist Jordan Peterson talks about how useful these can be. It's also an intriguing idea to explore in literary form.

Many stories have been told about self-fulfilling prophecies, where a prediction makes people act in a way that brings about the prediction. It's still a great idea.

Here's a note I left for myself that I don't fully understand: "once and future king, arthur, Community, my IQ, billionaires rise and fall and rise again". I understand it a bit. It's about the fact that so many stories are about being in a good state, losing that good state, and then the struggle to restore the previous good state. Because I have bones pressing on my brainstem I have experienced that struggle with my IQ, that's why that's in there. The tv show "Community" also follows that structure in a sitcom format. King Arthur is that story. A number of billionaires have lost everything, and then made it back again.

Resentment is the murderer's muse. What if we personify it as something like a muse sitting on the shoulder? Creepy!

What if Obscurity was a demon that followed people around and made sure that they weren't noticed?

In a general sense, everyone is seeking the promised land in life. That can take many forms. Sin is missing the mark. I don't know where I'm going with that, but it might be something.

The philosopher and professor Susan Wolf wrote a book titled "Meaning in Life and Why It Matters". I think she comes to some bad and dangerous conclusions in that book. I would like to write a commentary taking apart each piece of it.

One of my most liked articles and speeches ever is about great first lines in fiction. I thought it was an interesting topic, but people were more interested than I thought they would be. It might be fun to write a book going through a bunch of first lines from books that I like, and don't like, and analyzing them.

Since I write and speak about grief, I could probably explore grief in a narrative structure. That might not be fun to write though, so I might not do that.

What if the mark of Cain was like the lives in a video game, and Cain then was able to have seven lives and die seven times? This is for all of his descendants. There could be some odd adventures and psychologies there.

That's less than half of my most recent ideas. I'll cover more next time.

________________________________________________

You can find more of what I'm doing at http://www.JeffreyAlexanderMartin.com

[bakechochin]

The Book Ramblings of February and March 2019

In place of book reviews, I will be writing these ‘book ramblings’. A lot of the texts I’ve been reading (or plan to read) in recent times are well-known classics, meaning I can’t really write book reviews as I’m used to. I’m reading books that either have already been read by everyone else (and so any attempt to give novel or insightful criticisms would be a tad pointless), or are so convoluted and odd that they defy being analysed as I would do a simpler text. These ramblings are pretty unorganised and hardly anything revolutionary, but I felt the need to write something review-related. I’ll upload a rambling compiling all my read books on a monthly basis.

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There - Lewis Carroll I am a jammy fucker, and so when faced with all of the editions of Alice in Wonderland that I could have bought, I had to go with the deluxe edition of The Annotated Alice, because it’s big and fancy and I could get my fill of cheeky secondary reading from it. However, upon purchasing it I realised that there is definitely a line that needs to be established when it comes to analysing books like this, and you’ll have to forgive me for repeating some of my thoughts on Peter Pan in this ramble, because my thoughts are much the same for both texts. Unlike Chesterton, who fought against the scholarly intellectualisation of Carroll’s works, as well as giving us the great quote on the subject, ‘Alice is now not only a schoolgirl but a schoolmistress’, I think that there can be benefits for reading Alice with a scholarly eye, especially when focusing on Carroll’s own life and outside influences of his that may have explicitly affected the writing of the stories. (Brief side note, I’ll stick to referring to the author as Carroll as opposed to Dodgson in this ramble, for simplicity’s sake). Whilst I do think that there are a lot of annotations in this book, which I will consider representative of fields of study done on the subject of Alice, only vaguely relevant and interesting in a detached way from the overall narrative, just additional embellishments to the reading rather than explicitly making the stories better to read, I’ve still got time for them because such extra tidbits of information are interesting in their own right. Of course, sometimes the information tidbits aren’t as interesting as what Carroll did with them - why would I care to read the sensible proper versions of verse extracts that Carroll changed into nonsense verse when it’s the nonsense that’s far more entertaining? - but, again, it has its use. What I do have qualms with are the annotations attempting to over-intellectualise the nonsense aspects of the story with real-life physics or mathematics application, retroactively attributing theories and shit to Carroll’s formulation of his nonsense and judging the nonsense by the sum of its (supposed) parts, and of course it’s awful when the annotations spend paragraphs upon paragraphs comparing the twenty billion different drawings of Alice within the framework of Carroll’s hatred of crinoline fashion. That shit can bugger right off. But let’s actually talk about the stories. These stories are, if not the first, than certainly the definitive examples of literary nonsense, and what proved most interesting to me was how said nonsense specifically manifested itself for comedic effect. Alice’s straightforward thinking and no-nonsense attitude (no pun intended) to all the kooky shit around her is always fun, and this book deserves kudos for its bold strides in the direction of really dark comedy in a children’s book. Similarly to a lot of people, I was familiar with the Alice nonsense before reading it, thanks to the 1951 Disney film and the sheer ubiquitousness of the stories’ content in pop culture, but it didn’t make it any less fun to read. I know that this is far from a novel takeaway, but there’s some things in a written text that a film just can’t capture; the writing has a fantastic way of being able to gloss over Alice’s low moments to firmly cement her as a fearless protagonist who accepts all the challenges thrown her way head-on, whereas the film needs to cover every low point in the story with heartstring-pulling poignancy. This is helped greatly by the fact that we know that everything will turn out alright in the end, either because the tone conveys it or because Alice explicitly tells us; there’s strife and peril along the way, but there’s no real risk of the whimsy giving way to any real danger, and so the story can just revel in its nonsense. Reading how Carroll describes all his fun Wonderland nonsense is, of course, incredibly enriching and fun; going into the story, I was expecting a lot from such well-known characters as the Caterpillar or the Cheshire Cat, and was subsequently surprised to see how little they actually figured into the overall story, but this gave way to the inclusion of scenes and nonsense I hadn’t seen before, like the tart debacle in the Queen’s Court. I was advised by a friend to leave it a while between reading Wonderland and the sequel, Through the Looking Glass, because the novelty of the nonsense would lessen were I to read them one after the other, and whilst I agree with his advice I feel that there is so much overlap of content between the two stories (especially considering how the film adaptations pick and choose story elements from both stories) that the new story wasn’t the completely novel experience I was hoping for. Whilst Wonderland didn’t have much of a story structure, with events unfolding and characters appearing as the story went along, there is more of a structure to Through the Looking Glass, however loose it may seem. This structure is that of a chess game, a fact I am left in little doubt about on account of the annotations giving me a constant fucking running commentary of the game’s progress, a progression which only ties into the story in terms of the characters’ idiosyncrasies in a humorous way once or twice in the whole fucking story. I know very little about chess, so any complex nonsense surrounding that fell way the fuck by the wayside when I was reading this, and therefore I was grateful that the usual Wonderland nonsense persists; my favourite encounters are the ones that reflect Carroll’s academic interests and experimentations, including a really interesting discourse on semantics and nominalism held by by none other than Humpty fucking Dumpty. WOULD I RECOMMEND?: YES

The Third Policeman - Flann O’Brien Nonsense writing is a fun concept to me, but my introduction to the genre, and indeed my full understanding before reading this book, was limited to texts by Carroll, which, don’t get me wrong, are of course great nonsense texts, but are familiar to us on account of how ingrained they are in pop culture, and thus you go into them knowing what to expect. I had no fucking idea what to expect from this book, and what I got was great. The story follows a chap with no name getting embroiled with a station of bizarre policemen, a vague setup into which is slotted in subplots about a league of one-legged men, inter-dimensional maps hidden on the ceilings of innocuous bedrooms, colours that make one go mad, and a conspiracy involving men taking on the attributes of bicycles and vice versa. This is supplemented with our narrator linking the banal sights and sounds around him to the speculations on said subjects by the insane savant writer de Selby, leading to pages upon pages of footnotes talking about de Selby’s ideas on bottled darkness or the world being shaped like a sausage, and all the contrasting and fucking ridiculous critical responses and hypotheses about said de Selby nonsense. I don’t need to tell you that this is all fucking amazing stuff. Not only is it always fun, it is described frankly and without laughing at itself, and while there is a lot to keep one occupied, it never gets overwhelming (or at least, the density of nonsense content in the prose never weighs on one’s brain in an information overload). The story is short, but dense with nonsense as mentioned above, and the fact that the few events that do progress the plot occur without warning nor aplomb is perhaps forgivable, because honestly the plot isn’t really the point as much as it is a vague backdrop for the nonsense at hand. All the way through it we have our nameless narrator, who challenges the farce around him but not incessantly or obnoxiously, and has a great patience for the shit he has to endure, greeting every new slab of ridiculousness with a polite nod and a smile; it’s very easy to align with the narrator without feeling like your interests clash with his. What I will say about this book is that, whilst it is purportedly many different things, from a murder mystery to a love story to an allegorical tale of guilt and despair, the sheer quantity of its bullshit means that it cannot be any of said things effectively. As a murder mystery, the plot hook that sets the pieces in motion for the circumstances of the murder is swiftly forgotten as the story barrels onwards. The love story element, whilst being ridiculous because it’s between our narrator and a stolen bicycle, is just one minor element of our narrator’s journey and is only dwelled upon for as long as it takes for the story to travel onwards to the next wacky plot thread. And as an allegorical tale of guilt, any attempt at inspiring guilt or sadness or whatnot is immediately offset by the knowledge that you’re reading a book with sentient bicycles and robes made of woven wind and policemen who refer to a difficult-to-solve problem as ‘an insoluble pancake’. This point does, however, bring us to the ending, which I will not explicitly spoil, but I will say that a) it does come as a surprise, but b) it pretty much juxtaposes the spirit of the entire work, and as such I thought it was a bit of a cop-out (no policeman-related pun intended). A thought-provoking cop-out that came as a bit of a shock, but a cop-out nonetheless. WOULD I RECOMMEND: HELL YES

Complete Stories - Clarice Lispector I like to review books based on whether I have personally got something out of them, and I am subsequently at something at a loss with this collection; as much as there is to recommend in the short stories of Lispector, they’re really not what I, or indeed those who know me, would consider to be ‘my thing’, and so my recommendations for the book may come across as a wee bit disingenuous. But let’s talk about these stories anyway. Lispector’s thing is incredible prose, almost prose poetry in some stories; it is florid and it is evocative and it is captivating, describing the emotions and thought processes of the narrator characters with such zeal and passion and complexity and verbosity. On this basis alone, I can recommend her stories, and presumably also her novels, to which I understand follow the stories in similar ways. However, I myself am loathe to pick up a novel from Lispector, because I find her short stories draining enough; I don’t mean this in a negative way, please simmer down and let me finish. These are incredibly dense short stories, with pages upon pages breaking down and analysing thoughts and feelings, snapshots of life extrapolated on and made to seem like powerful life-changing moments, the grand momentous prose depicting something as banal as a misinterpreted situation or a moment of embarrassment as cataclysmic disasters or mind-boggling enigmas to be contemplated by the finest philosophers. Only once could I sit back and laugh at this (the story ‘The Chicken and the Egg’, if you’re interested); for the rest of the time, I was fully and unequivocally invested in the strife and troubles described in these stories. But that’s not to say that they don’t take a toll. It took me quite some time to read this anthology because, were I to sit down and read these stories one after the other, I feared that the emphasis, the fucking punch that these stories had would become saturated, and it would just be a weary slog through turgid prose. I asked my friend (i.e. the bloke who gave me this anthology) why he considered the novels of Lispector to be some of the best he’s read, and he said that he loved how Lispector could pack seemingly everything into the world, every issue and matter and question and philosophy, into such small events; I won’t argue that Lispector excels at this, but I will protest having to read an entire novel’s worth of it, because I don’t have the patience nor the willpower. Anything else that I can think to say about the stories pales in comparison to Lispector's major strengths, but I’ll say what I’ve got anyway lest anyone were to accuse me of half-arsing these rambles. Some of the stories are unflinching examinations of the darker side of human nature, whilst others sacrifice this rumination for succinct twist endings and a black comedy tone; whilst I am fond of these stories, it can be a tad misleading or even anticlimactic when some stories set themselves up as examinations of curious human nature only to change course at the last second for the sake of the comedy twist (see ‘A Chicken’ for a good example of this). Though I scoffed at the suggestion of such in the introduction, believing it to be too much like base-level GCSE-tier literary analysis, the focus (and to an extent style) of Lispector’s works do noticeably change as she gets older; her earlier works are often first-person stories about love and confusion and vanity, but by her collection Covert Joy her stories are often framed around nostalgic or formative experiences. I prefer Lispector’s earlier stories; they’re more representative of the amazing storytelling I’ve been gushing about for this entire ramble, whereas her later stories are told like wistful recollections, good in their own right but not what I think of when I think of Lispector. I’ll recommend my favourite stories (in the order that they were printed in my collection), with the caveat that not all of these stories are good because of the reasons outlined above: 'Obsession', ‘Daydream and Drunkenness of a Young Lady’, ‘A Chicken’, ‘Happy Birthday’, ‘The Smallest Woman in the World’, ‘The Dinner’, ‘The Solution’, ‘The Fifth Story’, ‘Covert Joy’, ‘Remnants of Carnival’, and ‘Where Were You At Night’. WOULD I RECOMMEND?: YES

The Warden - Anthony Trollope I was a tad ill at ease as I started this book and started discovering some startling truths, most notably that I had been deceived once more into reading something out of my comfort zone. All I knew about Trollope going into this was his misplaced pride in his disgusting beard, but the introduction to the story cheerfully informed me that Henry James had referred to his ‘complete appreciation of the usual’, whereas Carlyle had more scathingly called him ‘irredeemably embedded in commonplace, and grown fat on it’. I was here for larger-than-life characters embroiled in a grand scandal in a sleepy cathedral town, perhaps some boisterous near-deaf old men or some juicy satire about lascivious priests, but I’d only gone and signed up for a quiet and relatively uneventful novel of everyday folk embroiled in quiet affairs! What a fool I am! However, whilst I worry that by saying this I am resigning myself to walk down the long path of boring realism-centric literary classics that I have long reviled, I’ve got to admit that this book is really rather good. Trying to describe the plot may very well deter any prospective readers in much the same way as it initially repelled me, but the general gist of it is a scandal coming to light (or, more accurately, being somewhat fabricated and blown out of proportion) involving the distribution of charitable funds in an almshouse in the quaint cathedral town of Barchester, and the story follows the main people who become embroiled in the affairs, either because they started it or because they’re under threat by it. You’d be forgiven to gloss over this as a load of old banal quotidian twaddle, but where this book shines is in its storytelling. The narrative voice is warm and affectionate, the characterisation is fucking stellar, and the story getting into the minds of its characters with every encounter and fantastically describing how events unfold for different people is all bloody incredible. It is perhaps the warm and inviting quality of the storytelling which results in this not being the most effective of satirical texts, because satire requires you to step back and think about what you’re reading and why it’s funny, whereas beyond recognising a few real-world allusions (my favourite of which is Mr Popular Sentiment, Trollope’s less-than-complimentary imagining of Charles Dickens), you as the reader think and react along with the characters rather than from a lofty distanced position, and the material that you find funny is funny in-world rather than necessarily because is aptly reflects real-life folly or works in some other meta-textual way. The warmness of the story which, at its heart, is a story of an old man trying to do right by his morals and his friends, doesn’t really allow for the most dramatic of plot resolutions, and indeed this book displays some rather odd choices in its pacing of such plot resolutions. Things are established as relatively chaotic in the storyline, with different characters with different motivations striving away and characters with the same motivations approaching their problems in different ways to overcomplicate the affairs at hand, but ultimately there is little payoff for all these hectic antics. The law suit that sets the plot in motion is established to have been poorly founded and generally worthless from the get go, which isn’t a problem in of itself because the titular warden’s guilt about the matters of the law suit are well-founded even if the law suit is not, but the law suit is dropped without fuss and without any serious consequences around halfway through the book, despite all the elements at play and the goings-on behind the scenes that led to the law suit being dropped. The warden’s story ends without fuss or without anything particularly dramatic happening, save a few heated debates and incredulous blustering figures imploring him to reconsider his choices, and overall just seemed a bit empty because of the lack of any real stakes. The actual ending was at times very poignant (and without any real clue as to how things may be resolved), and at times a tad rushed to tie up its loose ends and get in a bit more quaint narration endearing the characters of the story and speaking regrettably of leaving this story to face times to come; I suppose this somewhat reflects the book’s content, if perhaps losing sight of the life-affirming nature of it, and it is if nothing else bittersweet. By fuck it’s going to make me read the next book in the series to see what happens to these lads next, because hell yeah there’s a series of these. WOULD I RECOMMEND?: HELL YES

Dead Babies - Martin Amis I was cognisant of the preponderance of texts that I’ve been reading recently being all warm and powerful and life-affirming, and therefore I decided to read this and Wilt for a mindless black comedy experience. This was perhaps not the most mind-numbing of reads, being a rather fucked up book, but it’s a bloody good read regardless. Amis’ writing is absolutely incredible; his strengths lie in giving life to abstract scenarios and feelings with evocative metaphors, and characterisation that is complex and beautifully written. With this writing Amis paints a picture of a fucked up urban setting, a setting that I would attempt to succinctly summarise but know in my heart that to try would only be to amateurishly ape Amis’ own fantastic scene-setting descriptions, and so I will instead merely say that it is fucking good. It works because it’s a very grim setting, but it is also curiously sensationalised, while still being grounded in its grim content; there are gangs of cold calculating men who perform elaborate synchronised morbid atrocities, there is a pseudoscientific drug-mixing station with different uppers and downers to chemically alter or emphasise any aspect of a person’s character, and one of the main characters is a grotesque dwarf with nails digging into his feet from shoddily-constructed platform boots and a collection of grotty vintage porn magazines. Everything is primal or gross or part of some sort of beautiful chaos, and it’s an incredible hyperbolic depiction of society’s seedy underbelly, reminding me at times of A Clockwork Orange. The powerful narrative voice lends the grotty and grotesque setting a touch of high-mindedness or high society flare. The characters make up a fun array of misfits, from the pathetic to the neurotic to the braggart to the horrifyingly fucking villainous, and with a small cast of characters we get to learn everyone’s opinions of one another and how they bond, which was surprisingly well done considering how diverse and angsty all of them are, and pleasantly surprising that they don’t all just genuinely hate each other because of how different they are from one another. The narrative voice also helps out here; its direct commentary on the main narrative reminded me of Trollope, but this is not narration to warmly speak of the characters or implore the reader to think upon them positively, but rather to remark with grim resignation the actions of the characters or the shitty direction their lives are taking them. And now we come to the tricky subject of comedy, a tricky subject because some people will no doubt argue that this book is too fucking awful to be considered as such. The setup of the story seems like Trainspotting, a grim world periodically ameliorated with little scenes of light-heartedness and comedy, and at the start of the book it’s easy to laugh at the vileness of of the characters’ actions. As the book goes along, however, the narrative moves from the overall setup of a debauched weekend of dissolute youths to being determined by the dramatic actions of the characters, spurned by simmering emotions (and sometimes catalysed by large quantities of experimental drugs) and often ending very very poorly. It is here that some of the more disgusting plot points of the story occur, and yet interjected into it are elements of farce so ludicrous that you have no recourse but to laugh at them in the face of all the horrors surrounding it. Or maybe that’s just me. WOULD I RECOMMEND?: HELL YES, IF YOU’RE IN THE MOOD FOR SOME FUCKED UP SHIT

Wilt - Tom Sharpe This may well be my shortest book ramble to date, and indeed I deliberated whether or not it was worth writing, simply because it is another example of books that I’ve liked in the past and continue to enjoy. There’ll probably be a bit of a crossover between this ramble and my ramble on Roald Dahl’s short stories, as their black comedy content has much in common. This is a relatively short book that takes you on a pretty wild fucking journey of farce; ridiculous situations and misconstrued motivations abound, and even from the confines of a prison confinement our eponymous protagonist is able to escalate the plot like you wouldn’t fucking believe. The general premise, such as it is, revolves around an uneasy marriage of a domineering wife and a put-about unmotivated husband who humours himself with elaborate dark fantasies of murdering her, and the plans of actualising these fantasies (catalysed in part by some villainous Americans) spirals into all sorts of wacky shenanigans that I shan’t spoil. I went into this book at a friend’s recommendation, and at around one hundred pages in I commented that there are parts of the story that veered too far into plain old cringe, and that overall the story seemed to be shaping up to a rather vengeful story written as the author's attempt to vent frustrations. My friend said that Sharpe was ‘playing [me] like a pipe’, and so I persevered, and can subsequently say that all such thoughts are swiftly quashed by the rest of the book, which is an absolute tour de fucking force of fantastic time-wasting and nonsense that leaves all that real-world cringe or vengeful thoughts of worldly injustice behind. And of course we get a satisfying life-affirming ending, because this is that sort of book; everything’ll be resolved in the end with smiles and ironic twists. This isn’t exactly a book with incredibly florid prose or life-changing writing, but what it is is a book written by an incredibly smart person, which is instrumental in shaping this book’s fucking fantastic (and often dark as fuck) comedy, contributing some phenomenal turns of phrase, and as a source, much like Dahl, of a hundred throwaway references to miscellaneous academic tidbits that Wilt employs in his endlessly hilarious time wasting. WOULD I RECOMMEND?: YES

Other shit that I read that I couldn’t be arsed to ramble about: Shakespeare’s Local by Pete Brown (conspicuously NOT about Shakespeare’s local pub but nonetheless about the long history of my all-time favourite pub (The George in Southwark), funny and informative (if noticeably written by a man who is not a specialist in some of the subjects he talks about, for people who are also not specialists in said subjects), would recommend if you can go down to the George and have a pint there while contemplating the history) and Green Men and White Swans by Jacqueline Simpson (a great and informative book with a subject matter seemingly tailor fucking made for me, greatly enjoyed Simpson’s none-too-subtle asides about peoples’ over-intellectualising of pub names, was mildly disappointed that my own home town has got fuck all in the way of cool folklore-inspired pub names, would absolutely recommend alongside a cheeky bev).

#book reviews #book rambles #alice in wonderland #through the looking glass #lewis carroll #wilt #tom sharpe #dead babies martin amis #the third policeman #flann o'brien #clarice lispector #the warden #anthony trollope #i had a load of great ideas in mind for my usual nonsense wittering in the tags but i've totally forgotten all of my great ideas #what an absolute piss take #i really need to be writing my essay right now

[thesinglesjukebox]

TAYLOR SWIFT - LOVER

[6.61]

We’re mostly likers!

Tobi Tella: Gentle, passionate, and legitimately beautiful. For a song by someone who's normally thinkpiece-inducing, I don't want to think or look at this critically at all. I just want to sit and be enveloped by pure emotion (also a famous London boyfriend). [8]

Joshua Lu: Hot Girl Summer is over and Christian Girl Autumn fast approacheth, heralded by this ode to monogamy that's touching and pretty in all the obvious ways -- at least until the bridge. Taylor Swift, perhaps understanding the inherent cheesiness of ballads like this, pushes the song to its campiest limits as she spins cliche marriage vows to be lyrical and silly. The way she promises at the end to be "overdramatic and true" hints at how she's knowingly playful here, and it's a clever way to enhance this particular kind of song to its hyperbolic end. If only the rest of the song weren't too comfortable just being a "Thinking Out Loud" redux, then it might be worth revisiting. [4]

Jessica Doyle: It's fine! It's pretty, it's soft, it's got echoes of Maddie & Tae (in that lifted "close" in the chorus); Taylor sells the jealousy line as a self-deprecating in-joke that the video chose to play straight. It's a perfectly fine song, all the better for not requiring any additional knowledge to decode. It's a nice high note to leave on. So, without speaking for anyone else, I am adopting the belief that Lover is a stand-alone single released with very little promo by a talented but otherwise unremarkable country-crossover singer, whom this blog will get around to covering again in, oh, 2026 or so. [6]

Alfred Soto: Impeccable craft. Facts are facts. The use of echo, the voluptuousness of Taylor Swift's vocal prodding the acoustic strumming, the overdramatic middle eight/bridge in which she swears "to be overdramatic and true to my lover" -- I need a nap after such a bounteous feast. The other lyrics fascinate me less; the line about Christmas lights staying up is Creative Writing 1102, Week 3: Using Precise Detail. But the yearning in "Lover" is closer to autocratic than tender, which, to her credit, she sees as indistinguishable. [7]

Michael Hong: I once read a comment section where someone referred to Taylor Swift as the "queen of long bridges." Since then, I may have forgotten where I read it, but it remains something that I think is completely true and when Taylor Swift is at her best, she masterfully writes bridges. Her best bridges are midnight realizations, headbanging depictions of the crushing weight of heartbreak, or the anxious and relieving reminders of failing relationships. They often unfold as tightly-wound emotional revelations and are never without their cathartic release. But sadly, going by the early Lover singles, Taylor Swift may have lost her knack for great bridge-writing, producing the infamously cheesy "spelling is fun!" or a slightly too childish reference to Humpty Dumpty. "Lover" is no different. While "Lover" paints a grand picture of romance, everything feeling like just one of the many real possibilities, the bridge spoils the sketch, playing out like an obsessive fever dream. Contrast the way Taylor Swift sings the word "lover" on the chorus, which seems to resolve all anxiety and stop time around it, with the schmaltzy over-the-top way she stretches out the same word on the bridge until it becomes so mawkishly corny, it loses all meaning. It immediately takes you out of the romantic waltz of the rest of the track and into the overdramatic musings of a diaristic fantasy that would have been embarrassing even if read from an actual teenager's diary. The bridge is full of various awkward and uncomfortable moments from the moment we hear "ladies and gentlemen" through Taylor Swift's egregiously awkward and choppy talk-singing that seems to be on full-display across Lover -- it didn't work on "You Need to Calm Down" and it certainly doesn't work here. All's not lost because of the bridge, and I'm certain I could still get lost in the beauty of the rest, but there's certainly more realistic passion and romance in one line of the chorus than there is across that entire bridge. [5]

Ian Mathers: The sound, all that dusky reverb and brushed drums, is pretty lovely. Most of the song works well too, although god she lands hard on that title every single time it comes up, eh? I know I'm supposed to have a more complex reaction to Taylor Swift, but I got so burned out on the competing takes it's hard to focus more than "a pretty nice song I'll be fine hearing on the radio that has some clunky bits". [6]

Vikram Joseph: Love songs are a hard sell; the best ones make you overwhelmed with joy for the protagonist, or make you believe that you one day you could have all of that happiness for yourself, but that kind of listener empathy takes real skill to engender. "Lover" sounds smug and entitled, like your posh acquaintance who's never had to struggle for anything (emotional or material) in their life boring you to death down the pub about their wedding plans. The aggressively cloying middle-eight perfectly encapsulates drink number three, when they're off on one about their honeymoon plans (an all-inclusive resort in Dubai) while you're remembering why you've only seen them twice since uni and wondering whether you can get a lobotomy on the NHS. And yes, it sounds a lot like Mazzy Star, but if I want to listen to a reimagining of "Fade Into You" I'll head straight for "Coming Down" by the Dum Dum Girls, thanks. [3]

Katherine St Asaph: Early reports likened "Lover" to ersatz Mazzy Star (a reminder of what they actually sound like), when what it's clearly trying to be is "Hallelujah," and given the sparkly perkiness of the bridge and all beyond, quite possibly the Pentatonix version. The rest is the usual Taylor Swift problem: the song's supposedly about a "magnetic force of a man" but sounds like it's about a Build-a-Bear. [2]

Sonia Yang: Cozy, intimate, and eschewing glitzy synths in favor of drawing upon her country roots. Rather middle of the road for an album title track, but it's packed with neat little bits such as that relaxed swing-y 6/8, the way everything cuts out for Swift to sing the "lover" at chorus end, and Swift's breathy head voice. It's not a big track but it doesn't have to be. However this is something I can see myself loving much more life than on record; without the immediate atmosphere to bask in, it does feel a bit underwhelming. [6]

Edward Okulicz: "Lover" sits in the middle of songs on its parent album for me -- it's beautifully made, but like a few of its midrange peers has one or two things that annoys me. Here, it's the word itself -- not "lover," but "luvv-verrrr." It's not that it's a weirdly coquettish thing for her to say, because Swift has always done the modern girl dreaming of the romances of literary greatness, although usually she's a little bit more creative ("Starlight") or subversive ("White Horse"). No, it's just that I don't like how she sings that one word and it feels gratuitous in a song that doesn't really need a slightly anachronistic, coquettish touch to it. Other than that, no complaints about a lovely melody, delicate production and a performance that radiates relief and warmth and comfort. Probably an 8 in a month, but not yet. [7]

Rachel Bowles: I never truly believed the old Taylor was dead, the romance of reputation's 'Delicate' hinted at it, and Lover's eponymous single confirms it. It's a wistful, waltzing, breathless ode to long term relationships, making a home and real life happy endings- Taylor's teenage 'Mine' fully realised. [7]

Alex Clifton: I fell in love with Taylor Swift's music when I was nineteen and heartbroken. Speak Now carried me through a time when all I wanted to feel was loved and complete instead of the broken mess of a teenager I was. I thought I wanted a fairytale love myself, grand gestures and bouquets of roses and a partner who would shout their love for me to the city, but I couldn't even have a real conversation with the people I had crushes on. Needless to say, it didn't happen. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to mend my own heart and really open myself up to love. Eventually, I found someone and learned that love lives in the smallest things. He knows the way I take my tea and holds me when I cry; I know his regular orders at restaurants and tell him stories at midnight to keep his anxiety at bay. I never knew I'd prefer a quieter love to something all-consuming that burned red to the point of self-immolation. Instead I revel in the moments we have while walking around our favourite park, playing Scrabble in a cafe, reading together in bed. Swift has found the same sort of security and has carried this feeling into one of her best songs in years. "Lover" is a sun-drenched lazy ode to love itself and is the song that Swift's been building to her whole career, complete with wedding vows. It's a mature outlook on what love can and should be--something that fills each quiet moment between all the drama and major events, a strong feeling that can't be knocked down by a single fight or small mistake. Even with the occasional overdramatic moment (lovahhhhhhhhhh) it's made me remember how much I love my partner each time I've heard it, which is what the best love songs should do. [10]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The paradox of Taylor Swift is that all of her songs are inherently flashpoints in the discourse, even when there's nothing to talk about. "Lover" is the least controversial thing that Swift has done in years, both in intention and execution, and yet there's still no way to talk about it without talking about Taylor Swift, Important Pop Star And Cultural Figure. It's true that this becomes true of any sufficiently big pop star, yes-- but since (at very least) "Mean," Swift's music has been written like it's almost exclusively commentary about her own reputation. Yet the thing about "Lover," all the way down to its title, is that it's uncomplicated. It's maybe the least complicated single she's ever put out-- it's a love song with no twist, an acoustic ballad that's content to just be a big, stately acoustic ballad. It does its job-- the song will undoubtedly soundtrack twinkly-lighted summer weddings for the rest of eternity, and I won't even be mad. Because underneath it all, Taylor Swift is a pretty damn good songwriter when she doesn't feel the need to excessively perform the role of Taylor Swift. The lyric is full of lines that were clearly written with pride and skill-- the bit about guitar string scars on the bridge, most obviously-- but it doesn't feel as obsessed with the self as, say, anything on "You Need To Calm Down." And in letting the song breathe and stand for itself, she manages to reinvent herself: not as a pop megastar or some empire unto herself, but as a craftsman that happens to be the biggest thing in pop music. It's a compelling guise, and one that feels refreshing after a decade long media slog. But the greatness of "Lover" ends up leaving me feeling more skeptical of the rest of Swift's work than ever. [8]

Kylo Nocom: Taylor replaces the pain of what ended up happening with the comfort of what could have been. Her fairy tale ending is real, but "Lover" is generous enough to let one believe every single thing here can exist forever and ever. The spacious drums sound like they could have been recorded from the moon; that string-plucked bridge came from heaven. [8]

Isabel Cole: Having had some time to acclimate to the roller coaster kinda rush of Taylor following up the two worst songs of her career with the first album of hers I've ever genuinely loved, I'm content enough now to say I just think this is wonderful: unhurried, cozy like a well-worn sweater, pretty without showing off, knowingly nostalgic without being cloying, humbly besotted. Impressive that after half a lifetime making music Taylor is still deepening her skill as a vocalist, finding new clarity and a few welcome hitches; her performance, like her writing here, works by not working too hard, all the more convincing for not needing argue its merits. The fact that Taylor sees leaving the Christmas lights up till January as a show of deep intimacy is as hilarious as it is completely believable -- no one who's not a bit of a control freak winds up with their face plastered on UPS trucks. Similarly, I'm so genuinely endeared by "at every table, I'll save you a seat," coming from an artist who was writing songs bearing the sting of her lifelong dweebishness well into her era of global acclaim: marry me, Juliet, you'll never have to sit alone! It's hard to imagine that when she recorded the breathless final act of Love Story she could have envisioned that one telling a love story would sound as easy as this. [8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Every time I'm on the verge of disowning Taylor Swift for her terrible choice in singles, she releases something like this. "Me!" was an infantilizing failed experiment at camp, "You Need to Calm Down" was surprisingly thoughtful social commentary let down by a dud of a song, and "The Archer" sounded like a forgotten Hunger Games soundtrack cut. "Lover", though, is a timeless, gorgeous vignette of domesticity, mature in its lyricism and warmly familiar in its sound. It's the most compelling Taylor Swift has sounded since "New Year's Day." [9]

Jonathan Bradley: On early hit "Love Story," Taylor Swift punctuated a marriage proposal with a key change. The moment is one of ecstatic joy: a fairytale promise fulfilled beyond the bounds of reality. "Lover" sounds like a proposal, too -- her vow to be "overdramatic and true" is both lovely and gently self-aware -- but it's a rich and grounded union that finds more to happiness than the relief of a promise "you'll never have to be alone." It is a song of brushed drums, slow steps and brocade, a "Speak Now" from the altar and not the jealous aisles, of pleasure in shared domestic spaces where friends can stay over and Christmas decorations can stay up. There are no princes and bare promises, but Swift sings it with an awe even her earliest romances could not conceive. [9]

Joshua Copperman: Continuing my series of altering professionally produced music, I created an alternate tracklist of Lover, creating an 11 track 40 minute concept album about a battle between naivety and maturity. It goes from a scattered pop album to a fun-size Once I Was An Eagle. On this closer, love definitively wins out. "Lover" is Swift and Antonoff's take on 50s rock; purposefully campy and over-the-top, but genuine in a way that the first two singles from this era did not. As a closer, it resolves a lot of the tensions that have plagued Swift's work this decade, giving her a happy ending... but as the third track, it's baffling. I should not have to make my own context for this to take on a meaning, but that's also the whole point of pop music. (At least, it was before albums became more of a status update for an artist's life than a complete body of work.) I was on the fence about docking a point because "forever and ever" gave me "Jerika" flashbacks, but it's just a phrase that can only be given weight if someone genuinely believes in it. Kind of like "true love." [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#Taylor Swift #pop #music #music review #writing

[hottytoddynews]

Normally, tennis balls volley back and forth on the tennis court, but Wednesday afternoon (April 12), the fluorescent yellow balls were being catapulted in the C.M. Tad Smith Coliseum at the University of Mississippi.

The School of Engineering, Center for Math and Science Education and Division of Outreach and Continuing Education hosted the 11th annual Catapult Competition. Middle and high school students from across Mississippi designed and constructed catapults and brought them to campus to test their engineering skills.

Catapults, which originated as ancient engines of war, hurl projectiles at targets. Among the most powerful medieval weapons, catapults known as trebuchets use a counterweight to propel their payload. Modern catapults use tension, such as a spring or elastic band, that is suddenly released to fling a projectile.

“This is the 11th annual Catapult Competition, formerly Trebuchet Competition,” said Tiffany Gray, research associate in the Department of Mechanical Engineering and co-coordinator of the event. “We changed the rules on what the students were building last year, so last year we changed the name to reflect this.”

In the UM competition, students designed and constructed catapults of metal, wood and PVC to hurl tennis balls across the field. Registering for the event were 17 teams representing eight schools: Central Hinds Academy, Desoto Central High School, Guntown Middle School, Lafayette Middle School, Oxford High School, Tishomingo County High School, Water Valley High School and West Jones High School.

UM engineering graduate students weighed and measured the catapults to make sure specifications were met. Catapults not meeting specs either had to be modified or were penalized points for not meeting the criteria.

Teams competed in Design, Pop-A-Shot, Humpty Dumpty and Siege the Castle categories. Catapults were scored on their design process, safety features, construction, creativity and originality, and team interviews.

First place overall went to America’s Mitochondria from Tishomingo County High School. Second and third places overall went to Sojourn, also from TCHS, and Memengineers from Oxford High School.

Winners in Pop-A-Shot were America’s Mitochondria (first), Indeed from Lafayette Middle (second) and Ultimus from Guntown Middle (third). In Humpty Dumpty, winners were America’s Mitochondria (first), Shorts from Central Hinds Academy (second) and Enduring Frustration from Tishomingo County (third). Siege the Castle winners were America’s Mitochondra (first), Hot-N-Spicy from Desoto Central (second) and Memengineers (third). In Design, Sojourn placed first, America’s Mitochondria took second and B.L.A.G.H. from Desoto Central came in third.

The Pop-A-Shot required teams to launch four shots from three different locations at a regulation basketball hoop. The Humpty Dumpty event called for teams to launch tennis balls in attempts to knock three cardboard boxes off a wall of blocks without disturbing the wall. The Siege the Castle competition required teams to use catapults to knock down a cardboard brick wall.

The Haley Barbour Center for Manufacturing Excellence created 3-D-printed desktop catapults for the overall winners. Plaques made in the Mechanical Engineering Machine Shop were presented for each category. The overall winner was the team with the highest total score.

Six Ole Miss graduate students judged the entries: mechanical engineering majors Damian Stoddard of St. Louis, Cody Berrey of Meridian and Zach Wallace of Batesville; civil engineering major Grace McMahen of Union; geology and geological engineering major Alex Weatherwax of Williamsburg, Virginia; and physics major Sunethra Dayavansha of Kandy, Sri Lanka.

The Sojourn team intentionally went for a more creative design for its catapult, said Samuel Zafic, a senior at Tishomingo County High School.

“Most everyone goes for the traditional arm and bar design,” he said. “Going a different route allowed me to experience some of what it’s like to be in the engineering profession.”

Davis Powell, a junior also from TCHS, described the annual Division of Outreach program as “amazing.”

“I entered the competition last year because it looked like it would be fun,” said Powell, who hinted he might return to the university as a biochemical engineering major after he graduates in 2018. “It is fun, but it is also challenging. I definitely plan on coming back for next year’s competition.”

Before the day’s final competitive event, participants faced off in preliminaries and made adjustments to their catapults. Sometimes, the machines broke during this process.

“It is impressive to see the tools come out and students making repairs to get their machine up and hurling again,” Gray said. “That is what the engineering experience is all about.”

The catapult project encourages students to think and use the engineering design process, engineering school staff members said.

“Each year, I see familiar faces from previous competitions,” said Matt Nelms of Oxford, a UM staff member who serves as the event’s co-coordinator. “It’s very meaningful to see these high school and middle school students mature and the extremely impressive engineering solutions they come up with at such young ages. Their intelligence always exceeds our expectations.”

In medieval times, trebuchets were more accurate than other catapults, which use tension or torsion to fire projectiles. In modern times, trebuchets have become popular devices for hurling pumpkins, frozen turkeys or even junk cars in light-spirited competitions.

For more information about the School of Engineering, visit http://ift.tt/2pipWM4.

For more about the Center for Math and Science Education, go to http://umcmse.com/. For more about the Division of Outreach, visit http://ift.tt/1b6HZod.

By Edwin Smith

  For more questions or comments email us at [email protected]. 

Follow HottyToddy.com on Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat @hottytoddynews. Like its Facebook page: If You Love Oxford and Ole Miss…

The post UM Catapult Competition Draws Top Guns appeared first on HottyToddy.com.

#hottytoddy #olemiss #oxfordms #oxford ms #mississippi #university of mississippi #the grove