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fvrxdrm · 3 years

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City of the Living Dead

Chapter 6

"September 28, 2:30 am... It's down to just me and 3 others. No weapons...no ammo...and too many skirmishes have drained us mentally and physically. We're not gonna make it... Officer Phillips once suggested we escape through the sewers. Apparently, there's a secret tunnel under this place left over from its museum days. I brushed her idea off before, but now, it's not sounding all that bad. Yeah, there's no proof there's even a tunnel or that the sewers aren't infested with zombies, but I don't wanna sit here and wait to die, either. It's a long shot, but I'm gonna try to find out what I can about that tunnel... Elliot Edward," you read, "Shit. Rest in peace, buddy." You placed the transcript back to where you found it and proceeded in scanning the room you and Leon were in.

It was an office of some sort with mahogany desks occupying the center, swivel chairs pointing towards every direction, some paperworks piled in a stack and some (or rather most) cluttered all over the tables and floor. It looked like a hurricane together with an earthquake and a tsunami clashed and crashed in the area.

"Leon, w-" your head twisted and turned as you looked for best friend and even called out to him when you found him just staring at something on the ceiling, his trembling lips pinned in between pearly-white teeth, eyebrows furrowed upwards, and eyes looking like a dam was about to breakdown because of too much pressure. You went towards where he was standing and followed his gaze. You gasped. He was looking at stringed triangle banners with letters printed out on each of them

WEL COME LEON

Your face began to mirror Leon's but a pained smile differentiated yours from his as a sudden rush of memory enlightened your brain. "Hey, look, the design's the same as the banner I surprised you with when we were 15," you said, raising an arm to point at the triangular flags.

Leon chuckled softly at what you said and nodded while a sneaky tear flowed down his cheek in a tiny stream. "Yeah."

"Come on, Leon! I worked hard for this." You hauled on your friend's wrist and led him towards his room with a strain as Leon's languor held him back.

"This better be good, Y/N. You fucking woke me up and I'm really close to fucking strangling you." His voice was a little hoarse from having just woken up right before you pulled him off of the couch and he was still lowkey tired because of the three-hour rest he had last night, but as much as he wanted to throw you out of his house and fall into a well-deserved slumber again, he was into surprises and was curious as to what you had in store. So, he went along with it even though he was pretty much a sloth still.

"I promise you'll love it." You chortled.

Leon sighed in defeat before loosening up and letting you pull him towards where you wanted to take him for this so-called surprise with a rub of his crusty eyes.

When a familiar door came into view in front of you, you covered Leon's eyes with one of your hands and twisted the door knob, revealing a bedroom with a banner hovering over Leon's messy bed, before lightly pushing him inside.

"All right, here we are," you spoke as you removed your hand from your face, moving right beside him to watch Leon's face as it shifted from being enraptured to crestfallen real quick. You guffawed in a boisterous way at his reaction and plummeted down to the ground whilst clutching your stomach in a joyful pain.

YOU SUCK LEON

"Really, Y/N? This-this is what you wanted to show me?"

"It's true though, you actually suck!"

"Come on, you know you only won in Street Fighter because I let you," he whined. You stood up from being laid on the floor before clutching onto Leon's shoulder for dear life.

"For 20 times? Really?" You laughed again, "nah, you just suck, bro."

Leon narrowed his eyes at you with lips pressing tightly in a thin line and turned towards you, his feet moving slowly in tandem as he approach you with a spurious anger, his hands closing into fists.

"What?" You asked with a nervous chuckle and feet backing up in rhythm with his laggard advances.

"You think I suck?" His voice imitated a dark tone. Had you not been slightly scared - which you hated to admit - you would've busted a gut at how ridiculous it sounded.

"I mean, yeah, it's already said in the banner, dimwitt."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Well, let's see who sucks now!"

Welp, that's my cue!

You dodged Leon's attack by the skin of your teeth, stumbling on a stupid pencil for a bit, before proceeding to run around the house to avoid Leon's "spider fingers" as you call it and making a tiny bit of a mess. However, your luck has gone away and he eventually caught you when you accidentally tripped over the leg of a chair, throwing you into his bed and tickling each spot that would make you squirm and and laugh.

"I still suck, huh?"

"N-no, fine...y-you don't...s-suck," you cried in between heavy breaths and hysterics. Satisfied with your remark, Leon stopped his fingers from moving and plopped down beside you, taking a moment to catch his breath before he pulled you closer to his body and spooned you. "You still couldn't win yesterday though."

"Yeah, well, I know a million ways to win your heart though."

"Fuck off, Le-le." Leon tsked at the nickname.

"Y/N, that sounds awful as fuck."

"Whatever." You felt his lashes kiss the nape of your neck as he closed his eyes to give them another four hours of rest, your own following afterwards when you heard Leon's muffled voice vibrate against your shirt.

"Hey, you wanna be my date for homecoming?"

"I thought you already asked Lexee to be your date."

"Dante already asked her out, so..."

"Okay, fine, I'll be your date." You squeezed his hand before intertwining your fingers with his and smiling when you felt him kiss your hair.

"Thanks, Y/N. Good night."

"It's 10 in the morning, dumba-"

"Shh... Rock-a-bye baby..."

"You do suck though." You light-heartedly nudged Leon's side and wrinkled your eyes in a grin, chuckling when he returned the gesture with a titter.

"I really don't," he retorted back.

"Sure." You took his hand in yours and gently squeezed it in a comforting way to ease the two of you before placing a feather's kiss on the back of it. "Come on, we still have a job to do."

*****

Leon S. Kennedy, we're putting you on a very special case for your first assignment. Your mission is...to unlock your desk! The key to your success is in the initials of our first names. Input the letters in order of our desks. There are 2 locks- 1 on each side of your desk. Make sure you get them both. Basically, your first task is to remember your fellow officers' names, but you figured that much out, right? Good luck, Leon. By the way, it might take a little work to get Scott to give you a straight answer.

Lieutenant Branagh

Scrawled in a corner between drops of blood on the paper was an additional note the lieutenant had written while he and his fellow officers were isolated and trapped, and it read:

Be glad you're not here, rookie.

"Remember your fellow officers' names..."

"I think that means the initials of my supposedly co-workers' names should be the password to open these locks on my desk." Leon stood up from where he was knelt down on the floor and casted around from desk to desk, unlocking the padlocks on his table and claiming the prize after accomplishing his "first assignment" - a magazine for his beloved Matilda.

You smiled when Leon pulled out the gun he's had since the beginning of his adult years, another retention reminding you of the peaceful days you once had before you started walking right into confusion.

Matilda was a gift Leon's father had given him on his 18th birthday, a few months before he died of cancer. He was happy about it, and knowing how his family had supported his decision on him becoming a cop, his heart fluttered inside and he couldn't be more grateful about it. Leon held onto it everyday, even becoming a bit hesitant about leaving it behind whenever he went to school. And when his father passed away because of said illness, he grasped onto the weapon the same way he did when his dad was still alive, if not more.

"Happy birthday, Leon. Happy birthday, Leon. Happy birthday, happy birthday... Happy birthday, Leon... HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEON!"

Leon's cheeks stretched in an almost painful way as everyone erupted into cheers and confetti fell from the ceiling. Each person was wearing cone-shaped hats and the living room was decorated with different ornaments colored in his favorite hues. His family was there and so were his friends, and oh, how could he almost forget...

It was his 18th birthday!

"So, what do you think?" You spoke from behind him. He turned around to see you smiling like an idiot and tugging on the string of a party you picked up from the floor.

"This," he began. "This is amazing! Wh-"

"Well, son, the candle's almost melting. Wanna make a wish?" Leon's dad emerged from behind the small crowd with a three-layered cake balanced on top of his palms. The icing of the pastry was blue, edible police-related finishing touches garnished it with such perfection he almost didn't want to eat it for the sake of admiring and staring at the cake, and a single candle formed into the number 18 as an emphasis to his recent age was placed on top with a tiny flame dancing around in the air. Leon closed his eyes and wished for the best before blowing the candle, watching as the fire disappeared into a swirling smoke. Everyone rejoiced once again.

When voices had began dying down one by one, Leon's father called his name and picked up a box from underneath the table after placing the cake down where it wouldn't fall down.

"Leon, you're going to be attending the police academy soon and in the next few years you'll be the cop you always wanted. So, as a gift, I give you this gun." He opened the rectangular cardboard box where a gun laid and presented it to his child, Leon's eyes sparkling in delight at his very own weapon. "I know you'll be taking good care of Matilda."

"Matilda?" Leon asked in confusion.

"You know, like, Mathilda from Leon: The Professional," his dad replied. Leon chuckled in response before he carefully took the gun out of its container, still a bit iffy about touching it.

"I'll be taking good care of this, dad."

"I know you will."

"You still have that gun?" You spoke as you gestured towards his firearm.

"Yep, she still looks good as new. I didn't want to break my promise," Leon responded. He turned his gun around to show you just how much he kept it safe like a mother would to a child. Your E/C orbs twinkled in admiration, a feeling in your heart you had kept for a very long time flittering in a joyous manner for the first time since you last saw him.

"Nothing's really changed, huh?"

"I don't want to change anything for now...especially now that you're back here with me."

*****

So, I found this image on google and an idea suddenly popped into my head lmao.

Anyway, WE'RE BACK! I was busy in school blah blah blah. I think yall know that already.

#leonkennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagines #leon s kennedy x reader #leonxreader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #residentevil2 #resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic

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britishchick09 · 3 years

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help! livewatch

to kick off my beatleversary, we’re taking a look at my fellow beatle fan (aka my dad)’s fave movie from the lads... help! i’ve only seen 15 minutes of ‘a hard day’s night’ because it was a bit boring and ‘yellow submarine’ was fantastic, so i hope this falls right in between. let’s go get some help!

...why are we back to the end of return of the jedi?

sacrifice WHAT’S HAPPENING

OMG the sacrificial ring!!! :o

wait does ringo have it?

people: “ring ring ring ring!!!” john in ob-la-di-ob-da-da anthology: “a ring!”

and it goes right into ‘help!’ clever one lads ;)

the movie is in color yet this is in black and white like it’s on tv. coolio! :D

‘help’ is a bop! :D

you’d think the credits would play over them but nope :/

eyyy called it! :D

CALLED IT AGAIN!!!!!!

♫ won’t you pleeeeeease please

me!!! :D

this guy keeps throwing darts on the screen and it’s so weird:

OMG lester like phil lester???? ;o

tribe chief: “we need to find the ring!” guy: “has nobody looked in the washbasin?” lol :D

so the guy is only finding the ring for himself and not the tribe?

cool they live at 221b! :D

lady: “still the same they was before they was!” grammar much?

pretty house! :D

JOHN YOU SNEAKY LIL BISH

he’s reading it in a hole how nice :)

george is using fake teeth to mow a lawn inside their house how epic :D

and paul is playing the organ! :D

ringo: “me finger’s stuck in the door” no rongles it’s “I HAVE THE DOOR IN ME FINGERS!!!!’

OMG RINGO SCREAM LET GO LADY!!!!!

also his hair is a hot mess

john: “that’s immature of you, son” says you

ringo thought the lady thought his fingie was a sandwhich lol :D

ooh light :o

NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! :o

ringo just fell off the bed lol :D

john sleeps in the hole lol :D

why does john have a phone in the hole lol

he’s calling george and paul who are in the other rooms WHY CAN’T YOU JUST TALK TO THEM

and all he did was say ‘hello’ JOHN YOU DORK

the guy pronounced beatle ‘bee-ah-tle’ lol :D

guy: “they all look the same!” me before a year ago today

yo like harrods the store? :o

they keep saying ‘shilling’ why

ooh title!

groovy!

ringo to john: “what was it that first attracted you to me?” WOAH LENNSTARR???? john: “you’re very polite aren’t you?” yes that’s true thanks for not making it sarcastic :)

OMG MAGNETS!!!

john: “ah HA HA!!!!” op there’s the sarcastic bish!

two lads walking 0.2 feet apart in a 2 BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT BI!!!!

why are ringo and john saying the same things at the same time chaotic lads!

john: “what’s the matter?” ringo: “oh there’s no matter. OW OW OWWW!!!!” i think there’s a matter....

‘65 beatle girls: *swoon!!*

also don’t tell the lady she sucked up the wrong hand...

WELL THAT ESCALATED FAST

george keeps going ‘oh ho ho ho!!!” and i love it :D

they’re playing ‘you’re gonna lose that girl!’ :D

and it goes from not as clear film audio to clear recording audio which is weird

cool shot! :D (and beatle girls probably thought this was so hot)

ringo cig WHY

they have to do it again WHY IT WAS PERFECT

awww ringo’s dancing a bit :)

OMG :o

john: “you naughty boy!” don’t say that plz why :/

OMG THIS GUY’S GONNA CHAINSHAW WINGO :(((((

lady: “please flee!!!” ringo: “ok” lol :D

indian music! (you think this is how george started liking it?)

they’re seeking enlightenment! :D

ringo: “does this ring mean anything from you?” british guy: “freemason?” senpai wants your number

george is asking everyone if the blood rushes to them lol :D

OMG SOMEONE’S KILLING EVERYONE

guy: “could you pick this up for me please?” *knocks the chef out rapunzel style* lol :D

awww the lady wants to save ringo!

lady: “that’s the sacred ring!” paul: “say no more!” lady: “i can say no more!” lol :D

awww ringo is john’s best friend :)

oh no they have until 5 until a new victim is closing! :o

why is there a ticket in the soup

ringo: “that’s a season ticket!” john: “i love me a good seasoning” *puts it back in his soup* lol :D

ringo: “i got it from this eastern bird... lady” ;)

ringo can’t take the ring off!

george *about his soup*: “there’s footprints in here!” wut

THINGS ESCALATE SO QUICKLY IN THIS MOVIE!!!!

jeweler: “some problems are matrimonial” john: “eh heh heh” ;)

john wtf

the ring can’t be cut and it’s breaking the tools like rapunzel’s hair! :o

john: “you’re a failure, aren’t you scientist?” shut up plz

scientist: “voltage, up, up!” paul: “up up up up!!!” awww :)

scientist: “made in america you see!” john: “this is english” lol :D

john: “how do you feel?” ringo: “i used to use me hands” john: “he used to use his hands” lol :D

OMG I REMEMBER SEEING THAT WHEN I WAS A BABY FAN!!!!!

paulie likes it ;)

oh no the lady has a gun!! :o

the ‘brain drain’!

beatle logic: sing a song back home ALTHOUGH THEY SHOULD PROBABLY BE TAKING CARE OF THIS SERIOUS RING PROBLEM????

it’s ‘you’ve got to hide your love away’ so that’s cool :D

she’s not impressed :/ (but i am!)

john said the lady had ‘filthy eastern ways’ SHUT UP JAWN >:(

the lady wants ringo to shrink his fingo! :o

wait what

ooh intermission! :D

this is so random lol :D

PART 2 WAS JUST A LADY WASHING SOMEONE WTF WHY

that was random af and very family guy!

ringo’s allergic to penicillin like my mom! :D

OMG THE BAD GUYS ARE ATTACKING!!!!!!

my fave show! :D

JOHN IS ATTACKING IN THE HOLE ATTACK IN THE HOLE!!!!!

aww finger guns! :D

ringo’s crying at his suit having red all over :(

WHY IS THIS FIGHT SO CHAOTIC

ringo: “how can i get the ring off with me hands held up?” lol :D

ringo has a voice crack when he said ‘look!” :D

JOHN GON KILL U!!!!

john’s ‘get out’ is so good omg :D

oh no the scientists really want the ring now! :o

they’re in the snow for ‘ticket to ride’!!! :D

me lol :D

what a giffable shot! :D

ooh music notes! :D

penny lane much? ;)

oh no the guys are watching them... ;)

the lads are saying ‘oh ho ho ho’ WHAT HIGH DORKS

OMG RINGO!!!!!!

he says ‘ouch ouch ouch’ when rolling down the snow lol :D

*OH HO HOS INTENSIFY*

evil snowman... >:)

the bad guys have a curling bomb and one of them keeps saying everything he does lol :D

george: “hey it’s thingie! a fiendish thingie!!” lol :D

guy: “useless! what rubbish!” *THINGIE BLOWS UP A SECOND LATER* lol :D

snowman battle! :o

guy: “in the name of kindness, stop! stop!” the lads: *don’t stop*

HOLY FRICK THEY’RE BEING FLAMETHROWERED

paul running into john at the train station... ;)

ooh sherlock holmes reference!!!!!! :D

ringo: “they have a different religion... i think” lol :D

the scotland guy is mimicking ringo and ringo’s not impressed lol :D

why are the bad guys playing indian music in the phone booth WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE

999 is 911! :D

OMG IT’S MY FAVE HELP SONG ‘I NEED YOU’!!!!! :D

wowza editing in person! :o

paperback writer much? ;)

‘she’s a woman’ from past masters is playing on a walkie talkie! :D

the chief thinks it’s shocking and hates it lol

chief: “take this hastily scribbled note hastily!” lol :D

motorcycle go brrrr

guy: “they shall not pass!” gandolf who

‘the night before is playing!!!! :D

what a cool shot!

‘she’s a woman’ interrupted it no!!!! :/

OMG TNT

good ‘night before’ is back! :D

the lip syncing was kinda off tho

the bad guys are in camoflage and it’s like we’re in ww1!

the song ends ON A BIG AF EXPLOSION WTF

OMG THEY’RE USING MACHINE GUNS THIS IS SERIOUSLY WW1 NOW TH FRICK

i came here to watch beatles NOT THE WAR

oh no john fell! :o

ringo: “get up johnny! get up for me, baby!” lennstarr tho ;)

so many explosions I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS

guy: “MISSED you naughty boys!!!” ...plz dont call them that :/

victory music is playing did the bad guys win???

wtf is going on THIS ISN’T THE GREAT WAR IT’S THE HELP! WAR

buckingham??? :0

i swear if john is in nothing but a sheet-

not your lockie’s palace ;)

ringo: “IT APPEARS i need one card. IT APPEARS i need to chuck one in” IT APPEARS that you need to emphasize that for some reason...

them playing cards is so domestic :)

ringo: “i don’t just use my drumstick for drummin’” paul: “well what else is it for?” ringo: “i use it!” OH GOD WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT RONGLES

john: “we’re risking our lives for the most useless member!” is that fingo or ringo

ringo: “let that be an end to it, END TO IT” same ringo

omg the palace is haunted! :o

OMG QUEEN REFERENCE???

OMG SOMEONE’S SHOOTING

the guards are tripping over each other!

the scientists are the guards!!!! :o

they made time slow down! :o

someone sprayed that red paint and the lads yeeted out of there! :o

they’re in a bar DRINK DRINK DRINK EVERYBOOODY!!!!”

paul to ringo: “you’re a rat underneath aren’t you?” OHHHHH ROASTED!!!!!

paul used to wink at paul... mcharrison has sailed! :D

OMG TIGER ROAR WHAT

ringo’s alone with it no! :o

thanks for the clarification?

lady to ringo: “don’t move!” ringo to ‘a tiger’: “don’t move, that’s what she said!” lol :D

why is she whistling the 9th symphony

they’re all singing it to make the tiger calm and ringo’s like “ok!!”

A WHOLE CROWD IS SINGING IT WHAT

this is legit abbey road! :o

ooh bahamas!

i love how george is taking pics of everything :D

i didn’t think cameras sounded like static back then tho...

oh no THE CHIEF IS THERE TOO!!!!! :o

BOI WHY DID HE SLAP A GUY

no the scientist is there too! :o

prepare for the beatle bahamas battle lads...

idk what pc is but they all the soldiers all named that

ooh ‘another girl’! :D

i heard it was cold when the lads filmed the movie so rip to their arms :/

CAKE

so much purple! :o

hey john! :D

george: “let’s play a game it’s called peep peep peep peep-“ yup THEY SO INCREDIBLY HIIIGHHHH

THEY’RE SAYING ‘OH HO HO HO’ AGAIN WHY

the lady said ringo’s getting ‘disembowled’ and john’s like “keeps ye busy eh?” like the lil’ bish he is

ringo: “i don’t want to knock anyone’s religion but-” *runs away*

bike lads! :D

they keep saying ‘let’s go back and get ‘em!” yep they hiiiigh

a triumphant one of ‘i’m so happy to dance with you’ is playing!! :D

OMG ONE OF THE BAD GUYS IS SKYDIVING

wtf bro

paul’s explaining things cryptically and george is like ‘why tho’

paul: “there’s the temple and that swimming pool and... i’m lost” lol :D

ringo: “read on” B)

OMG ISSA TRAP!!!!

george: “typical!” lol :D

WHAT DOES ‘KAILI’ MEAN

RINGO GO UNDER!!

omg he’s in the orange blanket! :o

ringo: “HEEEEELP!!! help me!!!” title drop roll credits! :D

dere he is! :D

i remember seeing that before i was a fan and thinking it wasn’t beatles lol

john: “he’s got a plan” paul: “a really famous plan!” john: “a plan superintendent...” superintendent: “you see i’ve got a plan!” ...i think he has a plan

OMG ‘HARD DAY’S NIGHT’ IS PLAYING SO TRIUMPHANTLY

the plan is baseball?

#spon

smoooosh

everyone’s calling for ringo and george is beating his chest lol :D

THE SCIENTISTS GOT WINGO NOOOOOO

scientist: “dust in the generator. gets everywhere” and it’s rough & coarse too...

the lady is saving ringo!

the scientist doesn’t need the ring now that he has...’nobel prize juice’?”

they keep saying ‘eastern’ as the language.... :/

ringo: “i can’t swim!” lady: “what do you mean you can’t swim?” he means HE CAN’T SWIM LADY!!!!

oh no THE SACRIFICE!!!!

the sacrifice involves a horrible, inaccessible name... voldemort?

he’s free!!!! :D

ringo: “i don’t subscribe to your religion!” lol :D

‘help’ is playing again! :D

and the chief has the ring now... >:)

...what does that have to do with anything tho

and with the trippy credits came the end of the movie! the only help i’ll be needing is why it was more weird than yellow sub but i had such a fun time with it (especially the snow scene and ‘i need you’)! what a great movie! :D

#livewatch #if there's one word to describe this it's not 'help!' it's 'chaotic!'#especially since i lost 30 minutes of commentary when tumblr glitched out #still a great movie! :D

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lawrenceop · 4 years

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HOMILY for Pentecost Sunday (EF)

Acts 2:1-11; John 14:23-31

“Without your Spirit, there is nothing in man, nothing that is not harmful.” These words from the beautiful Pentecost Sequence hymn, Veni Sancte Spiritus, recited before the Gospel today remind us that without God we can do nothing good, and even the good we start to do can become harmful if it’s not sustained by the grace of God. So, the absence of good, of light, of peace shows us that our actions have turned from God, that even what began well can be corrupted by our inclination to sin, and so, end badly.

The chaos flaring up in various parts of the world, seemingly initiated by a desire for justice, which is a good thing, can, as we have seen day after day, go badly astray because we cannot be sustained in the good without the Spirit of God. Humble prayer, therefore, is the foundation of all good, but we have become activists who often react without thinking let alone praying. But it is a diabolical lie to think that we can restore the good, or build a just society, or create a civilisation of love simply by our political will, or merely through outraged tweeting, or just by sharing memes and videos on our social media accounts. These often create much heat but shed very little light if any at all. If we desire to right the wrong, to overwhelm the evil with good, and restore justice, then we must first return to God. As the Sequence of Pentecost says: “Come, father of the poor, come, giver of gifts, come, light of the heart.”

But do we know our fundamental poverty of spirit? Do we desire the gifts of the Holy Spirit? Do we seek the light of God? This year, with the whole world still suffering the effects of a pandemic – even if the crowds on the beaches, parks, and streets might behave with wishful thinking as if the virus has just dissipated with the summer heat – and now, moreover, with the spread of violence, rioting, desecrations of churches, looting, destruction of property, and hatred, these are signs and reminders that both the natural order and our human nature, disfigured by sin, are in clear need of God. We need the Holy Spirit to free us from the prince of this world, that is, the devil, who through sin and lies and false promises leads us as individuals and as a society only towards division, destruction, death, and hell.

Pray with me, then, these words from the Sequence of Pentecost: “Come, Holy Spirit, send forth the heavenly radiance of your light… O most blessed light, fill the inmost heart of your faithful… In labour, rest, in heat, temperance, in tears, solace… Cleanse that which is unclean, water that which is dry, heal that which is wounded. Bend that which is inflexible, fire up that which is chilled, correct what goes astray.”

As fires from riots and violent protests flare up in different parts of the world, and as the fire of anger and hatred flares up in numerous hearts, we behold today a different kind of fire. The Holy Spirit who descends on the apostles on Pentecost Sunday is seen as a visible light, as tongues of flame, but this divine fire, alights on their head without burning. Like the fire of the burning bush beheld by Moses, which shed a radiant brilliance without consuming it, so the Holy Spirit sheds light without destructive heat.

Such is the light of grace, which enlightens the darkness of the human mind. Original sin has darkened the intellect, leaving Man to fumble his way forward in the dark, his reasoning hindered by emotion, passions, and sinful desires. So, the Spirit of God comes, we pray, with the light of truth to guide our reasoning minds. The Spirit of God comes to “correct what goes astray”, he comes to heal our wills, our appetites, our desires. This is the light, the divine fire of Love, which burns without destroying. Rather, it purifies, it refines, it transforms. For our human nature, healed of the wounds of sin by the Holy Spirit, is then elevated by grace so that we now reflect the glory of God, we become divinised by grace, we now shine with God’s love.

The love of God, as St Paul reminds us, is “patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right.” (1 Cor 13:4-6) Therefore, it is not love if we seek to avenge a wrong by doing still more wrong, by speaking without charity nor kindness nor even courtesy, no matter how right one’s cause might be. Instead, this kind of fire and passion, burning hot and fast, will consume us and we will be burnt out. The fire of divine love, as we see in the Scriptures, is a slow burn but it thus transforms and improves, softens and changes things - anyone who has cooked will understand this. Hence the flames that burn above the apostles’ heads do not catch fire to their hair, but instead, God’s Spirit illumines their minds; he gives them knowledge of things human and divine; and he gives them gifts. Thus they miraculously speak languages they had not learnt; they preach the divine truths of salvation with boldness; and they become witnesses of the Resurrection and the freedom given to us by Christ. Their lives, therefore, are utterly changed, and they see things from God’s perspective. Hence the Sequence of Pentecost prays: “Give to your faithful, those who trust in you, the sevenfold gifts. Grant the reward of virtue, grant the deliverance of salvation, grant eternal joy.”

Pentecost is, as the name suggests, the fiftieth day after Easter. And this number, 50, is Biblically significant. In the book of Leviticus the fiftieth year was a jubilee year, a time of rest, of relief from debt and hard labour, a sign of God’s forgiveness and redemption. Pentecost points to the jubilee, therefore, and it is significant that on the fiftieth day after Easter comes the public proclamation of deliverance from the bondage of sin and vice and even death. The Spirit of God, his merciful love, comes to free us from the debt of sin. God comes to free us from slavery to our limited human ideas, and our wild emotions and unbridled passions. The Spirit of God is present to forgive us, and to redeem us, and to sanctify us. Thus, the Holy Spirit is, as we said in the Sequence hymn, our “greatest comforter, [the] sweet guest of the soul, [and] sweet consolation.”

In the midst of a land, and even among Church communities, who seem lost in chaos and darkness and turmoil, the Holy Spirit comes to us today. And he comes not only as a gentle brilliant flame but also as a powerful rushing wind. For there is much debris and detritus from our old sinful lives that needs to be cleared out; the dust and nonsense fills the air and keeps us from seeing the Truth clearly. So the psalmist says: “Let God arise, let his enemies be scattered; let those who hate him flee before him! As smoke is driven away, so drive them away; as wax melts before fire, let the wicked perish before God!” (Ps 68:1-2) Yes, let the Holy Spirit come and drive away the enemies of God, all that opposes the good and the true; all those infernal beings who would deceive and lead astray. We human beings have been called to friendship with God, and the Holy Spirit is the Advocate and Guide who comes to make us friends of God. Therefore, he comes first to drive away the Enemy who stirs up rebellion and prideful disobedience; who corrupts the good we begin; and who whispers suspicion and conspiracy in our ears. Thus the 9th-century hymn to the Holy Spirit, Veni Creator Spiritus, prays: “Drive far away our wily Foe, and Thine abiding peace bestow; if Thou be our protecting Guide, no evil can our steps betide.” The Holy Spirit, therefore, comes to bring peace to the soul, peace to the community, peace to the world, for he restores sinners to true justice that comes only from God. Thus Jesus says in the Gospel today: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” (Jn 14:27)

The frustrations of our time: frustration with politicians and their works; frustration with the Media and corporations who control our knowledge and information; frustration with our fellow men and with our leadership – even within the Church, sadly – these frustrations will overheat and boil over because there is much heat and little light in these situations. It is evident that we, today, are in dire need of the Holy Spirit, and, in our anger and quarrels, our communities are disintegrating into nothingness. For “without your Spirit, there is nothing in man, nothing that is not harmful.”

What, then, are we to do? Where does the Holy Spirit lead us? Jesus says the Spirit will “teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.” (Jn 14:26) Therefore, the Holy Spirit leads us, first of all, into prayer. Pray, read the Scriptures prayerfully, and pray again. The apostles had been gathered with Mary in prayer before the Holy Spirit came to illumine their minds and their hearts. And this is what our world, our Church, and each of us need every day: prayer. Only then, with persistent prayer that is insistent on God and on his love, shall we find light, joy, and peace.

If I may make a suggestion: pray the Rosary daily for peace. These were the words of Our Lady of the Rosary at Fatima. She, our Mother, and the humble Spouse of the Holy Spirit, promises us peace if we pray the Rosary. Start now: join us today at 5pm after this Mass. I will end this Livestream, and start a new one, Live on this Facebook page, at 5pm.

#Holy Spirit #peace #prayer #riots #chaos #sin #grace #salvation #light

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positivlyfocused · 4 years

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Sometimes I Gotta Seethe In Rage

Three weeks ago I wrote how every negative situation is positive. Well this week brought such a crazy-ass example of that, I shared it with all my clients. Now I want to share it with you.

This story is hilarious. I almost wrote "unflattering", but you'll see at the end that this story flatters me in the sense that I saw how this infuriating situation was also a massive blessing.

Summer's sun, blue skies and Oregon's hot breezy air called me out again last weekend. I love working outside along the Willamette River shores. I enjoy Ospreys above and salmon jumping skyward likely avoiding sea lions and their chisel like teeth.

I decided I wanted more of that, so I packed my bike. I packed light, my portable chair, my iPad and nothing more. I planned to finish reading Ross Douthat's The Decadent Society, its insightful take on current reality had my attention for weeks now. I anticipated exploring Douthat's take while enjoying the Oregon summer.

^^The usual spot I work from on summer Oregon days...by the Willamette's beautiful shores...

That's not what happened though

Oregon's governor recently eased lockdown mandates. With her decree, all of Oregon made similar plans. I expected a few people riverside, but wasn't prepared for crowds that showed up.

A forty minute bike ride turned into an hour while I tried finding suitable, solitary rest stop. I finally decided on a rocky shore devoid of human for lack of any sand. But I had my chair. I didn't need sand.

I parked my bike, set up my chair then settled into Douthat's narrative. Thirty minutes later, a couple with two dogs showed up. The young, tattooed Portlanders led their dogs to the water's edge, unleashed them and threw tennis balls into the river. The larger of the two dogs, a pit-bull, leapt into the water while its smaller puppy companion barked in envy. Then the puppy eased into the water, found it agreeable and went for a swim. I smiled then turned back to Douthat.

Minutes later, the puppy was licking at my bare legs. I'm not a dog person, but I can appreciate a cute pooch. On this day though, I just wanted to read in quiet on a beautiful day. It annoyed me that this dog suddenly was licking my leg. But what annoyed me more was the fact that its owner hadn't done his legal duty of keeping his dog under control.

I lifted my legs away from the pooch, clearly annoyed, which the owner saw. He came bounding to my rescue, scooped up his dog with an apology and returned to his spot. There, he put it on a leash. His partner too re-leashed the Pit-bull.

All that was nice. But it was too late.

I got hooked in frustration-momentum

Momentum is a powerful thing. Especially negative momentum born of oft-told stories. I've harbored negative stories about dog owners who don't keep their dogs leashed and therefore under control as leash laws mandate. So much so it's one of my "pet peeves" (oh god! no pun intended!).

Recently when I read about a "Karen" from Central Park Manhattan who made a racist false police report against a fellow New Yorker who politely asked her to leash her dog in an area where a leash law was in force. The fellow New Yorker, a board member of the New York City Audubon Society who happens to be African American, recorded the whole incident. The recording went viral and popular outrage caused the woman to lose her job and her dog. Reportedly, New York is considering banning her permanently from Central Park and the District Attorney is considering pressing charges against her for making a false police report.

This story came to mind as that puppy slimed me. When its owner grabbed it and apologized, I mused whether he also thought about that Central Park incident.

The problem was, I didn't shake the association, which would have been in my best interest. Comparing my experience to what happened to the Audubon Board Member wasn't really fair. But old stories about my pet peeve combined with that viral Central Park experience in my head creating momentum that swept me up.

For the next half hour I couldn't focus on my reading. My mind swirled around the association, my indignation, my annoyance and frustration....

^^I don't hate dogs. Dogs love me as much as I love them...sometimes...🤣

What happened next was no surprise

The couple decided to pack up and leave, having I suppose, had enough time at the water's edge. As they walked to the bike path, I heard the woman say to someone I couldn't see "Sir, would you mind leashing your dog?"

The irony didn't escape me. "Cosmic Justice" I thought. Little did I know said justice was just getting started...

I couldn't hear the what the person she addressed said, but I heard what she was saying. I also got the annoyance in her tone:

"Why aren't you willing to put your dog on a leash sir?" She asked. I turned, hoping to see who she addressed. I couldn't see that person. She continued.

"My dog isn't friendly," she said. The person said something I didn't hear.

"How many years have you been around my dog sir?" She replied. "I'm telling you my dog is not friendly."

Apparently whoever she addressed had done nothing, so she reached down, picked up what looked like a 40 pound pit-bull and scrambled over rocks the rest of the way to the bike path with her male companion in tow.

I was thinking about karmic kickback, wondering how the couple felt now since they themselves hadn't controlled their (little) dog. Which is why I hadn't noticed that not seconds later another dog was sniffing at my leg!

It's my turn...

I turned in surprise, saw the Husky, then darted around looking for the owner. Presumably this was the same person the young woman spoke with earlier. Finally I saw him sitting in a chair he set up behind me on the bike path's edge.

My indignance increased. "Really?" I thought. "Twice in a row?" What did I expect? I create my reality. Here was the Universe serving me a big pile of pet peeve....a second helping if you will, this time via a Husky and yet another irresponsible owner.

But wait...it gets worse. Or rather, I got worse.

I should have known trying to get the owner to do anything about his scofflaw dog would be futile. After all I saw that play out just seconds ago. Never the less:

"Sir, would you please come get your dog!" I said with force ten annoyance.

The owner looked down at me, at his dog and said "he's alright."

"I'm not!" I said.

The owner said nothing.

At that, I'd had it!

Now I was fully in rage. That's right, I was so angry, I was shaking. I wanted to strangle that damn dog and murder the owner. But I also knew it wasn't the dog's fault. So I directed all my rage (in my mind) at the owner. I wanted to first strangle him, then murder him!

I should mention I had the presence of mind at this moment to see the ironic humor here. A part of me knew what I was doing was ridiculous. It's just a dog. But the principle folks, and the momentum of my pet peeve had me firm in its grip.

Clearly this guy wasn't going to do anything about his dog. There was no way I could recover my state of calm at this point, not to mention focusing on Douthat's prose. I decided then to gather my things and head home in a huff, which took all but a couple minutes.

But I couldn't let it end that way. Noooo.

As I pushed my bike up to the bike trail, I made my "offender" clearly: white male in his 40s, beer in hand, listening to a transistor radio, minding his own business and cool as a 🥒. Perfect contrast to my seething rage, which at this point, boiled over and out my mouth:

"YOU'RE EXACTLY THE KIND OF PERSON WHO GIVES DOG OWNERS A BAD NAME!" I yelled in his general direction. I hopped on my bike and peeled away on the momentum of my righteous indignation. 😂🤣😊

That wasn't the end of it.

A half-mile into my return trip, it struck me. What happened here? Why am I letting this situation shape how I feel? How I feel is more important than how I'm treated. In fact, I know by choosing how I interpret what happens in my life, I can create reality. Here I was doing what a noob at all this "you create your reality" business would do...

At this point, I should stop and say I know sometimes I'm going to get pissed. It's just part of what happens when an eternal being comes into physical reality.

Thinking an enlightened person doesn't get mad sometimes indicates misunderstanding about how physical reality works. Physical reality intentionally offers variety: things I want and things I don't want. After all, how am I to know what I want if I don't know what I don't want?

How am I to know what thoughts feel better than others, if I don't have a negative experience every now and then?

That's what I thought one half mile into my return ride. And that's when I decided I had the power here. I had choice.

So instead of continuing to seethe, I decided to put my attention on something else. Something more pleasing. So I noticed the blue sky. I noticed the green trees. I noticed how much I like riding my bike, how good the sun felt on my bare legs and arms, how good it feels on a Oregon summer day. In seconds I felt better. My feelings reminded me how wonderful it is working from Oregon's riversides:

youtube

That's when something amazing happened

The more I thought these thoughts, the better I felt. Then...

Ever had an experience where something happens, you react in a less than ideal way, then, later, you get a thought, an idea, an alternative way you could have responded that might have been more effective?

Well that's what happened. In my increasing happiness I received an alternative scenario that played out in my mind. Rather than throwing a tantrum at the guy, I saw my self calmly rise, gather my things and my chair, walk up to the guy and set up my chair right next to him. So close our chairs touched side by side. Then I sat down, looked at him and began politely talking his ear off.

That's when I burst out laughing, a belly laugh so strong it obliterated my anger. I let this alternative reality play through my mind, adding humorous bits here and there – I saw him looking at me surprised, then trying to ignore me, then suddenly packing up his things and stomping off, dog in tow off leash. I imagined him and I actually having a friendly conversation, chatting away like best friends. I imagined him and I sitting there, me chatting away and he trying to ignore my chatting tsunami in quiet annoyance...

And you know what happened next? The entire situation changed for me. No longer did I see him as the idiot epitome of bad dog ownership. Instead he became a shining example of what I could be.

Consider this:

This guy was doing his own thing, oblivious to what others thought and said about him

This guy was in his own reality, enjoying his life with his dog. So was the dog!

This guy had presence of mind, a centeredness so powerful, he appeared unphased by not only one, but two verbal aggressors trying to knock him off his rocker

As much as I want to vilify him, he demonstrated to me vibrational mastery. And at that point he went from villain to teacher.

I want to be like that. I want to be calm in the face of storms.

And, in fact I am, nearly all the time.

Which is another thing he taught me: that I am that nearly all the time. When I'm not, there's always something great in the experience I learn about myself and about my Positively Focused practice.

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agiearts · 5 years

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Genre: Angst, fluff, Smut

Synopsis: Y/N is not enjoying the concert in Seoul due to harassment of the guy behind her pinning her to the barrier-fence. No one cares, no one notices, and no one takes actions until Jimin found the situation angering him.

A/N: I really hope you enjoy this one shot, it’s my most liked one on archived. So I hope you enjoy as well <3

Warning: Sexual Harassment

He pushes me hard up against the fence which is separating the crowd from the stage. He holds my hips like he owns me, the music blasts, fans shout and my screams is easily confused to be similar. He thrusts against my ass to my cries, but no one notice. Several times he tries to kiss me but I refuse. I feel pinned and stuck, and I prayed for their concert to be over because I couldn’t concentrate with this harassing dude touching me, purposely taking advantage of the crowds disguise. I bawled my eyes out leaning over the fence nearly choking with the lack of air. Suddenly a certain someone saw my pain, heard my screams, but he had a job to continue.

The arena faded to dark only to the light-sticks dull enlightenment. Before the stage lights truly faded, his shadow unlike everyone else ran off. Two warm hands suddenly grabbed my shoulders from across the fence, and there’s a whisper to my ear. “I’ll help you over the fence”, his angelic voice was to identify at once. But my heart was already rushing with adrenaline so nothing changed as I got over the fence. Only the hint of relief hit me once his hands ripped away from me and i was dragged away.

Into the the slightest of light his identity was confirmed to what I thought. Jimin’s eyes looked worryingly at me, seeing the already red and bruised hands of mine from the forced grips, made his expression angry along with sorry. He handed me his water bottle to get me hydrated and to hopefully get me to calm down. “Stay here”, Jimin had no time to stay around and rushed back on stage.

I could hear their steps and voices, but then something interrupted it. A crew member had spotted me and marched hasty towards me as I was seen as a threat. “You’re NOT allowed to be here!” He grabbed my already bruised arm, dragging me painfully through several hallways to end up in an isolate room. I was thrown inside and cage within the four concrete walls. I banged on the door trying to explain. But like anyone would have believed my story… literarily any fan would have come up with a similar excuse to meet them, only that my story wasn’t an excuse. Never had I believed things would turn out so horrible, all I wished for and payed for was seeing my idols perform. That was all I wanted… Now I’m here, locked up in a isolated room, crying for help as I’m feeling the angst place itself up my throat.

The boys ends the show without any regrets or much hardship. Jimin rushed to redress into normalised clothing: white t-shirt, black hoodie, dark blue jeans and original yellow timberlands. He looked around finding her nowhere, he ended up asking the crew. Their answer made his fingers tighten in a fist, and he raised his voice slightly between his gritted teeth. “I got her back here! Where is she?”

I was locked in the old storage area and I was panicking. I placed myself into the very far corner as I kept staring at the door, praying for just anyone to open up. Then, the door suddenly burst open. Jimin walked with long steps toward me opening his arms. I let myself find comfort in his kindness. “I’ll get you out of here safely, don’t worry”. He grabbed my hand gently with his knowledge on my bruising, dragging me back all the hallways from before, and through the rest of their group. They reacted confused, but they smiled apologetically once they saw my teary eyes. I felt so out of place, I wanted to disappear at the same time as it was so surreal that it still didn’t reach my mind who’s holding my hand. Jimin was shouted after by his fellow members, but he shut them out as the exit door closed behind us.

He flipped up his hoodie and covered his lips and nose behind a mask. He turned to me and smiled with his eyes so gently, reaching for my hand he intertwines our fingers like a couple. “Where do you live? I’ll walk you!” “Grand Hotel, I’m just visiting Seoul”. I’m just half Korean, but have lived here all my life. But in Ilsan, not in Seoul where my dad is born and raised.

Jimin kept me close as we were walking, both silent most likely because he would easily be recognised if overheard.

It was getting darker outside, nearly all light was gone. Walking in the entrance of the Hotel lobby I prepared myself to say goodbye to him. But that wasn’t his plan. “Which room?” He smiled at me behind the mask still holding my hand. “4-21, why?” “Just wanna make sure you get back safe, all the way”

During the short elevator trip I think It finally went up for me who was offering me help. Also he removed his mask, underlining the realisation. I felt the heat arouse in my system, my cheeks flushing red with him looking at me. Everyone said he was so short, but not to me. He was tall enough to lean his head to the top of mine if he stretched his neck just a little.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh, I’m Y/N”, I said shyly.

“Woah, such a pretty name!!” He smiled at me.

4th floor, he let go of my hand. I opened the Hotel room door and walked a few steps inside, Jimin stood in the door opening leaning against the door, keeping it from gliding shut. “I’m sorry what happened to you. I was going to act sooner but I couldn’t. And sorry I just had to leave you, but …”

“Omg, Jimin it’s okay, I totally understand. Thank you so much”

He invited me in for another hug. And I knew from just the two I’ve received, that his hugs were the absolute best. But this one was more, idk what to call it… electric maybe. He smelled so good, I just realised, and he was so warm and caring. As we pulled away from each other our space did not extend. His hand slid gently down my left side ending up resting at my hip, his right hand, to my surprise, cupped the left side of my face. His thumb wiping away remaining tears. Our eyes met and It felt as drowning or drifting through a galaxy. His smile faded to become blank-ish.

“Y/N… Can I kiss you?..” He spoke so gently and low for just my ears.

“Really?”, I reacted with whispering in slight shock to his sudden request.

“Yeah”, he whispered very low as he closed his eyes while decreasing our distance, leaning slightly down. His plump lips suddenly presses up to mine, pecking them so sweetly. One intimate touch and all my senses swelled up. A kiss without sound, just a gentle little peck. But turning to so much more. I couldn’t hold myself back wanting “just one more”, Standing slightly on my toes i kissed him. His mouth went to dance with mine, clearly giving into it as well. He hummed pleasurable, “hmmm”, into it as he took a step towards me, pulling us even closer, and the door shut behind us. The kisses were no longer muted. Repeated small smack sounds and “hmmms” from him made me all warm and fuzzy inside.

I hadn’t realised his sudden struggling need before he tried speaking. His body was clearly exited with dissatisfaction, building up a scream for escape.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t intend this.” In my mind the sentence would stop there like the fair and soft boy he is, but he ended up revealing a side of him I never had thought existed. But believe it or not, Idols are humans too. He’s a boy, boys get horny...

“I helped you, and now suddenly it seems like I could need some help too…” he was still shy, but his little smirky smile was too honest.

He pulled me back into wet kisses. And i let him, let his hands glide to underneath my merch-sweater. Jimin realized the 5 lettered name written at its back, he was the one out of seven. I chose him, and it seems like he chose me.

He grabbed the back of my thighs underneath my ass, pulling me to hook my legs around him, not interrupting any kisses. He let me fall back into the sheets carefully. He leaned down to kiss my forehead before he unbuckled his belt and removed both mine and his shoes. As he took of his jeans his phone dropped out of the back pocket. His screen was overflowing with messages and missed calls, mostly from Hoseok and Jungkook. While most of the messages was from Namjoon.

I couldn’t read what it said, but did it really matter? Jimin did seem to avoid them anyway. I tried staying there in the moment, with him, Jimin...

He seems tense and tired, yet passionately loving and cuddly. He embraces me with lots of bare skin. Feeling his heat i gasp loudly, starting to feel my underneath pulsating with his close presence.

Our lips reconnects and his hands travel down, making me moan into his mouth as he suddenly press against my clit. I feel his smile against my cheek right before he starts trailing my neck with light suctions and tiny love bites.

I placed my hands to his tense shoulders, then pulling him in for a hug.

“Jimin...”, he didn’t even recognize it himself, how tense he was. I know they work hard, i know he lacks rest. “Oppa, Please relax”

“Call me that again!”

“Oppaaa”, i pouted playfully, with a slight giggle.

“Fuck, you sound good!” He was thriving as we continued kissing. His tongue licking into my mouth increasing the intensity.

His member was painfully hard, with the slightest touch he winced with a facial expression exploding with painful pleasure.

“Take your boxers off if it hurts”

He didn’t hesitate the slightest, kicking them off like he hadn’t done anything else. His thighs was so thick, along with his manhood above and between them.

Jimin pouted at me intensionally.

“If it hurts so much, can i help in anyway?”

A wild smirk spread across his face, and he leaned down to my neck as his naked body hovered over me. Two kisses placed up to my ear before he whispered into it with a low, sexy voice.

“Ride me baby!”

I had never rode anyone before, in fact just barely had sex in normal positions... or sex at all, so much experience wasn’t on my side. But something inside me really wanted to, a strong desire to sink down on his throbbing needy member.

I pushed him off me, rolling him over. Jumped off the bed only to easily slide the thong off. Jimin not taking his eyes of me once, his gems shone with impatience. Back on the bed i sat on his stomach feeling the uneven surface to my underneath. His short fingers helped me prepare, he already made me a slight mess above him. He smiled at me as i catches my breath.

“You look so beautiful under pleasure Baby!”

His hands held my hips, it was my turn. Alining, holding onto the sides of his stomach . He gently pushed me down on his length, stetting me with it all. We tried staying silent, i whimpered between my heavy fast breaths. Jimin leaned his head backwards opening his mouth letting out a moan, with a grunt following and i saw his adamb’sapple bop with his gulp. He bounced me once with surprise. And to his surprise i moaned a loud scream. He grunted again and smirked as i bit my lip to silence.

He started moving my hips to roll with his member inside me. His face bloomed with pleasure, and it decreased with struggle as i gently started moving up and down together with his motions.

“Ahhhh grrr.. Y/N-ah!” Jimin whimpered.

He made me fasten leaving us both loud. The room’s scent was a mix of manly cologne and rough sex, never thought it could be such an addicting smell.

With every thrust and bounce his cock stretched me out and hit the same spot of pleasure each time. I moaned his name with the knot building in my stomach.

“Jiminahh! Ah!”

“Come on baby! Cum for oppa!”

I clenched around him leaving my juices dripping down on his crotch. Pulling out, Jimin went immediately to finish his climax. His liquid spilling all over his abs, leaving it a sticky mess. I wiped it off for him with the towel nearby.

Both of us redressed slightly. He put on his boxers again, and before i knew he covered my torso with his white T-shirt.

He snatched my waist to collide with his, leaving my ass up against his crouch. He held me close, pulled the duvet to cover our bodies, cuddling me as we both continued to regain oxygen from our highs. I felt his breath brush to the back of my neck, his lips almost touching it as well. I could feel his arm push me down with it’s natural weight, he wasn’t tense anymore and i believe he managed to relax.

“Thank you sweetie. I loved that!” The words slip his and my heartbeat fastened.

It was all over, the concert, the unplanned sex, the time with him... i would all lose it in the morning. Like I wasn’t already crushing on him or rather deeply in love from before, but now... we suddenly had a connection. There was a feeling there that wasn’t the kind of love between a fan and an artist, i felt need, real hopeful need of waking up with him besides me. His wet sweet kisses to heat up my body, his real smiles up close with dimples to display.

Oh gawd what have i done...

“Y/N-ah? Hello??” Jimin had turned me, facing him and he waves his hands in front of my glare. I snapped out of the negative thoughts, but they left a reality effect to the situation.

“Something wrong?”

The expression on my face gave me away. I looked at him with a sudden tear sliding down my side.

“OH Y/N? What’s going on?”

“Sorry i troubled you Jimin, made you break rules... you shouldn’t be here, you should probably have been sitting alongside Jungkook working on new songs, or dance with Hoseok to practice new choreographies right now... yet here you are. With some fan that in reality will never be more than just that... a fan.”

“What do you think i am? A international fuckboy? Our fans is my world, you’re everything to me. I love you all, and i hope i state that enough. I may be crowded with girls, and are able to get anyone i would like at any time. But i don’t, because I don’t use girls that way. I respect them, their body’s and souls, their beauty and charms. “

“What Just happened between us was a mistake maybe, I don’t really know you, but i like you... I loved what we just did. I felt a type of connection from the first touch when i pulled you over the fence... But you’re right I shouldn’t be here, but i am and i’m not leaving yet either. I haven’t felt this down to earth and relaxed in months” Jimin spoke convincingly and real, straight from the heart.”

“You won’t?”

“No are you crazy! I don’t just have sex and leave, that’s prostitution! And you’re not a doll either. You’re beautiful, adorable and real good Y/N-ah!”

“Don’t worry, i can stay the night if you want. With cuddles, can’t live without!”

He wrapped himself closer around me, kissing my bare shoulder. He brushed along my arm with his fingers, making me sleepy as i was pretty tired.

A little space was left between us as we fell asleep. Both tired. Jimin’s eyelids shut with the weight they provided, yet he slept lightly.

My fantasy was running wild, why now out of any night... I was being loud, whimpering as he played with me inside my head.

My deep breaths and whimpers, and some slight moans joining in once in awhile, awakening the blonde boy besides me.

Laying there he stared at me with awe and a tiny smirk across his face, probably not clueless to the lustful pictures in my unconsciousness.

I had a wet dream, something i’ve never ever had before.

I suddenly whisper his name with whispers developing afterwards.

“Jimin-ah!”

Jimin couldn’t hold himself from granting it. He planted both his hands to either side of my body holding his own above mine, leaning down kissing me to senses.

“Having a wet dream about me sweetie?” He smirked at me from above.

I felt the warmth pulsate in my body as he said it and I understood i’d been loud.

“Rude of you not to share it with me” His body went on top of me, he cuddles to my chest. Then leaving hickeys to my neck and by my collarbones.

“Jimin...”, he looked up at me.

“Please kiss me again...”

I didn’t need to ask twice. But with his kiss i teared up slightly, but tried my best to keep the sadness hidden from him.

He sat down besides me, pulled me to his lap and kept me close to his chest. We intertwined out hands.

“Before i fell asleep last night... I couldn’t strop staring at you.” Jimin blushed.

“I started thinking.. so i’ve been thinking.. I trust you... so can you keep a secret?”

I nodded.

“Give me your phone”

He opened the camera, made it face us and i just cuddled up to him as he did the same, for the photo. He saved it with a new contact.

“There i’ll send the photo to my phone aswell. You can keep us secret right?”

“Can you do that?” I asked him.

“Not really, that’s why it’s a secret! I don’t just wanna leave you now.. i haven’t been able to relax like this in ages! I would need someone like you when i’m not able to relax... also i’ve never really met someone like you before” portraying me his eye smile!

“What you mean!”

“I mean i like you, and maybe i want to keep seeing you... Even though I won’t have time. I’m not telling you to wait for me, but someone to text time to time would have been great”

I didn’t know what to answer, but...

“I’ll wait for you, if you want to!”

Jimin smiled and giggled, kissed me deeply before leaving the bed.

“Then i’ll text you some time then” He smiled towards me as he redressed what he had left of clothes as he rejected the t-shirt as i offered to give it back to him.

“I hope so” my cheeks burned.

He kissed my forehead. “I have to go now, have a lot to catch up on. But we’re not leaving Korea for another month now... sooo.. see u around maybe?”

I smiled and nodded shyly before he had to leave.

Jimin continued to keep contact once in a while. Usually i just got some selfies here and there which i plastered my room with. And sweet “miss u” messages and “good nights”

We met up in secrecy time to time as well, he also granted me a new concert with them because he felt bad about the other one.

He was the sweetest, and though we always were apart i felt more loved than ever.

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Jacob’s Ladder: How LSD, Tibetan Buddhism and Tim Robbins Combined to Create a Cult Classic

https://ift.tt/2IoUKpW

Screenwriter Bruce Joel Rubin still recalls one viewer’s reaction to Jacob’s Ladder.

“I was stood outside the theatre on the very first day it opened in LA, waiting for the crowds to come out to see how they responded,” Rubin recalls. “As the credits started rolling this guy ran out, probably five feet from me, and yelled at nobody in particular: ‘If I ever meet the guy that wrote that movie, I’ll kill him.’”

It was an extraordinary reaction but, then again, Jacob’s Ladder is an extraordinary movie.

Released on November 2, 1990, the film was only a modest success at the box office, debuting at number one in the US before being knocked off the top spot by Child’s Play 2 just a week later. But while plastic dolls reigned supreme on the big screen, Jacob’s Ladder would have its day on home video, where it garnered a cult following in the decades that followed.

It wasn’t difficult to see why; Jacob’s Ladder was the perfect film for the burgeoning format, a multi-layered tale both thematically complex and utterly terrifying. While the film’s main scares were worthy of pausing and rewinding, the fact was that Jacob’s Ladder demanded multiple viewings.

For director Adrian Lyne, that proved crucial to the film’s enduring popularity.

“You probably needed to see the movie twice to sort of understand it. You probably would’ve enjoyed it better the second time,” he told ComingSoon.

Not that his remarks were meant as a criticism – there was just a lot to unpack, in particular that ending.

Set in a grimy 1970s New York, the film ostensibly follows the story of Jacob Singer, a postal worker haunted by his experiences in Vietnam and the death of his young son (an uncredited Macaulay Culkin). Jacob’s damaged existence is shattered further when he becomes increasingly plagued by vivid hallucinations of demon-like creatures and otherworldly realms.

Divorced and living with girlfriend Jezzie (Elizabeth Peña), as Jacob journeys further down the rabbit hole he learns he and his fellow G.I.’s may have been test subjects for an experimental drug known as Jacob’s Ladder. However, with his haunting visions intensifying, Jacob soon finds himself caught between questioning the very basis of his existence and desperately seeking the truth of his condition with the help of his chiropractor Louie (Danny Aiello).

Featuring standout supporting turns from Peña and Aiello, Jacob’s Ladder is notable for handing Tim Robbins his first major dramatic role. Up until that point Robbins had been better known for comedic turns in films like Tapeheads, Bull Durham, and Howard The Duck. The role of Jacob Singer arguably changed his life.

Yet what makes the movie so unique is that while it is both thriller and psychological horror, Jacob’s Ladder ultimately transcends both to emerge as something spiritual and transformative. It’s in the final denouement that audiences discover everything they have been watching has been playing out in Jacob’s imagination as he lies dying in a makeshift Vietnam hospital (something hinted at in a series of brief flashbacks).

A metaphysical trip of a movie, the idea for Jacob’s Ladder was born out of an altogether different kind of trip Rubin went on while studying screenwriting alongside the likes of Martin Scorsese and Brian De Palma at NYU.

“I guess the seed formed for most of my writing during an LSD trip in 1965,” he tells Den of Geek. “My roommate at the time was a very good friend of Timothy Leary [an American psychologist and writer known for his strong advocacy of psychedelic drugs] and he gave me a tablet of LSD. He said it was strong and that I should take it whenever I felt it was right. So I kept it in my wallet for about six months.”

The day eventually came.

“The day I decided to take it, a man arrived at our apartment,” Rubin says. “He was bringing a jar of lysergic acid (pure liquid LSD) with him from some laboratories in Switzerland. He asked if he could leave it in our refrigerator before going up to Millbrook, New York, which is where Leary and his guys were all devoting their time to ‘experimentation’.”

Rubin’s trip began with a common mistake many have made with hallucinogens.

“That night I took the tablet that had been sitting in my wallet and nothing happened,” he says. “My roommate said, ‘well, we have this pure lysergic acid sitting in the refrigerator, why don’t I get an eyedropper and I’ll give you a drop?’ I said ‘OK’. So he went to give me a drop from the eyedropper and by mistake squeezed thousands of micrograms of LSD down my throat.”

The subsequent LSD trip Rubin experienced changed his outlook on life, death and spirituality.

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“What came out of that was a mystical experience so profound, but I could find nothing in Western teaching that talked about it,” he says. “But I did find teachings in Eastern religions like Tibetan Buddhism. I decided that I needed to go to places like India and Nepal and meet with teachers to get an understanding of what it was that happened because I entered a world so much bigger than the world we know experientially, so much more vast and internal, if you will, that I needed some direction.”

Despite bagging a job as an assistant film editor with NBC upon graduation, Rubin had been changed by his LSD experience. Ditching the job, he spent time in Greece before hitchhiking through Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, and Pakistan en route to the east and further enlightenment.

Rubin spent time in ashrams in India, a Tibetan monastery in Kathmandu, a Buddhist temple in Bangkok, and a Sikh temple in Singapore as part of a journey that saw him encounter multiple faiths and cultures.

Yet it wasn’t until he returned to New York and met Albert Rudolph, aka Swami Rudrananda, a spiritual teacher who specialised in yoga and meditation, that he began to find the answers he sought.

A jobbing writer in Hollywood, the idea for Jacob’s Ladder came to him one night in a nightmare that began on a near-deserted late night New York subway train.

“I had a dream where I get off the train and end up trapped in a subway station with no exits,” he says. “I realize the only way out is down through the dark tunnel of the subway into some kind of awful hell. But I have to make that journey, because ultimately it’s the journey to my own liberation.”

From there Rubin began to piece together the film’s plot, recalling an Ambrose Bierce short story that had a profound impact on him.

“I had this recollection of ‘An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge’ which is the story of what goes on in the mind of a man who’s about to be hung,” he says. “He imagines the rope snaps and he get away. He meets a woman and he’s been running back to find her and just as they embrace he feels a huge pull on his neck and he’s hung off the bridge.”

Rubin was fascinated by the idea of a film that fused that narrative with the Tibetan Book of the Dead and the concept of an after-death experience that offers an individual the chance to achieve peace and closure with what they leave behind.

“It’s the idea of what happens inside the mind of a man as he dies,” he says. “Working out all the things they never addressed when they were alive. It is a confusing, complicated state of consciousness. Time is subjective, so that years could be experienced in a matter of milliseconds. Rather than running away from the problem, it’s about embracing it. For Jacob, that moment comes with his son. He learns that it’s only though the biggest losses and the greatest pain and the most broken heart, that you discover your way to liberation.”

Rubin began work as far back as 1980 on the script for Jacob’s Ladder and even began working on the initial treatment for another film, which would go on to become the Oscar-winning Patrick Swayze favourite Ghost.

“Both films shared a certain kind of storytelling idea, one being more frightening and more horror and the other something more popularized,” he says. “But both were trying to convey this idea that death is not what you think is.”

However, after moving his family to LA to focus on becoming a successful screenwriter, Rubin was dumped by his agent, who told him his work was “too metaphysical and nobody wanted to make movies about ghosts.”

His fortunes would soon change though when the script for Jacob’s Ladder was named on a list published by American Film magazine of the best unproduced scripts in Hollywood.

It was in good company alongside the scripts for films like The Princess Bride and Total Recall with the article stating how it was “one of the very few screenplays. . . with the power to consistently raise hackles in broad daylight.”

Even so, it would take a few more years to get Jacob’s Ladder off the ground with Rubin determined to stay as true to his original script as possible. That required a significant budget and a director with a significant amount of commercial clout.

Ridley Scott, Michael Apted, and Sidney Lumet all expressed an interest but it was Lyne who took a leap of faith describing it as “one of the best scripts I’ve ever read”.

It proved a shrewd move for all involved with Lyne turning down the chance to adapt Tom Wolfe’s satirical novel The Bonfire of the Vanities in favor of Jacob’s Ladder.

“He’s a great artist. He brought a great vision,” Rubin says of Lyne. “If he hadn’t made Fatal Attraction before, it probably wouldn’t have gotten the green light.”

Meanwhile Rubin’s old NYU friend, De Palma, would go on to direct what became one of the most notorious flops in movie history with Bonfire of the Vanities.

With Jacob’s Ladder, Lyne sought to move away from the old testament-like demons that torment Jacob in the original script, preferring something that would further blur the line between dream and reality.

“He didn’t want the spiritual iconography, horns and tails and things like that, that represent demons and angels, wings and things,” Rubin says. “Instead he wanted to play around with nodules and growths coming out of people’s heads. Some kind of human and disturbing. It sounded great and ended up being quite terrifying. Characters could be both demonic and human at the same time.”

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Another area they disagreed on was the film’s ending. Rubin originally envisioned a more Biblical conclusion in which Jacob was set on fire by girlfriend Jezzie before ascending to Heaven on the Jacob’s Ladder that features in the book of Genesis.

“Jacob would be burned to a crisp. Louie the chiropractor (Aiello) finds him and comes over to this shell of a person and he looks at this ash in the form of Jacob and then Jacob’s eyes open,” he says. “And Louie says ‘Jacob your body can’t hold you anymore’ and pulls at the ash surrounding him and beams of light pour out and you realise he is nothing but light. Then he starts walking up the ladder and disappears. That was the original version. I don’t know if it’s any better, but I always loved it and it never got made. But, you know, in Hollywood you rarely get to see the movie you wrote.”

Opting against any post-production special effects, Lyne preferred to offer only glimpses of the horrors Jacob faces, flashes and disturbing moments inspired by the art of Francis Bacon and H.R. Giger and the photography of Diane Arbus and Joel-Peter Witkin and filmed against the backdrop of a Gothic-tinged vision of New York that chimed with Rubin’s script.

Lyne’s eye for experimentation and “less is more approach” proved crucial in shaping the nightmare world of Jacob’s reality. In one neat bit of camera trickery, actors were recorded shaking their head at a low frame rate which, when played back in fast motion, created the nightmarish faceless vibrating figures that feature in the film. Lyne further hinted at the film’s shock ending by having helicopter sounds played over the effect.

For all the visuals deployed, the film might have fallen flat without Robbins’s affecting performance. Coming several years before The Shawshank Redemption, the casting represented a gamble for all involved, given Robbins’s status as a comedic supporting star up until that point.

Handed the role after first choice Tom Hanks opted to star in the regrettable Bonfire of the Vanities, Robbins was determined to make the most of his opportunity.

“I’m always looking for something that takes a left turn, and this was a great opportunity to go in a different direction,” Robbins told the New York Times. “I love doing comedy, but I know I can do other things as well.”

Even so, Rubin recalls that Robbins took a little convincing, having taken a fancy to the other film he was working on at the time.

“He didn’t want to do Jacob’s Ladder. Tim wanted to star in Ghost but he was the wrong kind of actor. He was perfect for Jacob’s Ladder. It took a lot of convincing to get him to say yes to Jacob’s Ladder but I think now he’s happy that he did it.”

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30 years on, Robbins can have few regrets about starring in the film, which continues to find new fans and spark repeated viewings and debate among fans thanks to that unique ending which not only served up a major twist but, with it, a sense of awakening to the idea of a plain of existence beyond the mortal coil.

“I think it’s the fact that you don’t know what’s going on. You’re scared,” Rubin says. “What’s happening makes no sense. The fact that you’re so engaged by Jacob’s relationship with Jezzie to then discover that he has a wife and children. Then having no idea how these things come together and seeing snippets of these scenes of Vietnam. In your mind, you are watching the film knowing something is drastically wrong and wanting to resolve it. And then in the final moments, they pronounce him dead and there’s this kind of shock of ‘oh my God, that was the answer’. It’s designed to be a big wake up call.”

The screenwriter also finds it fitting that many come to the film in much the same way he came to the idea back in 1965.

“I have heard it’s a rite of passage for sophomores in some US colleges to get stoned often for the first time – or, you know, not the first time – and watch Jacob’s Ladder,” he says. “It’s like the perfect stoner movie, it really is, because getting stoned is like a little glimpse into LSD. Marijuana is a kindergarten step into the graduate degree of LSD.”

Ghost may have ended up bagging Rubin the Oscar for best original screenplay but he’ll always have a soft spot for Jacob’s Ladder.

“I remain very proud of it and I think without Adrian Lyne directing it would never have been what it is,” Rubin says. “So many films just disappear into the ether. But certain films stay with you. Jacob’s Ladder speaks to the human condition. I tried very hard to make movies that offered different perspectives. There’s a lot to talk about in their world and it’s hard to get Hollywood to make those movies. I’m very grateful. I got to speak to the world.”

The post Jacob’s Ladder: How LSD, Tibetan Buddhism and Tim Robbins Combined to Create a Cult Classic appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/32uTBDV

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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vexfulfolly · 6 years

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Happy holidays, Rachel! I was more than happy to draw you some Oddrich for the soul, since I’ve been meaning to myself. Your mention of a Kadic graduation fic got me thinking, and eventually I ended up making s short little blurb for you! @aflirtappleaday, here it is: Memories

It was unusually warm in the gymnasium that morning. It had to have been because of the unusually large amount of people milling within it, or perhaps it was because of the nerves everyone inevitably felt. Chatter rose and fell in waves, reaching to the rafters only to fall to a near silenced hush, and merely kiss the floor. What was all of this commotion about, you ask? Where have you been this last year? It's graduation day.

There were about three hundred people in the room— most of them being families and their extensions, seeing as there was a mere seventy kids in the class. There were, however, friends scattered throughout: people who had already graduated and were awaiting their underclassmen. Us. In the front of the room a makeshift stage had been assembled, which a microphone, several speakers, and a group of disgruntled teachers all sat atop. On the floor in front of it lay seven rows of chairs, each one about ten long. Outward from that was a sea of foldable chairs all occupied by, as previously stated, the masses. Alphabetically arranged, A's in the front with Z's in the back, the graduates were seated, awaiting the speech their lives had lead up to until now. As soon as the conversation in the room died down once more, Delmas began to speak into the microphone. "Good afternoon, everyone," his uneven voice sounded. "Before we hand out diplomas and recognize our students for the feats they've accomplished, our valedictorians will give their speeches. Joining us on stage will be Mister Jeremie Belpois and Miss Aelita Schaefer." And just like that, the room went from near silence to thunderous applause and screams of joy. From a seat on the edge of the front row a blonde beanpole of a boy stood and slowly made his way towards the stage, only to stop short and await his counterpart. As the boy drew the crowd's attention a lithe girl emerged from one of the back rows, her pink hair drawing eyes. The blonde— Jeremie— extended his hand towards the girl and together they scaled the steps towards the podium. Every second seemed all too long, yet they blurred into the next making every moment painful to endure. Before the crowd even knew it the pinkette was already speaking and they could only listen as the calm lilt of her voice filled the room.

"Greetings students, teachers, and families beloved: today is a momentous occasion. Today is the day that each and every one of us has fought long and hard for. Today is the day that marks not only beginning of our life that's yet to be, but also the end of everything we've come to know, which to be frank, is quite daunting. I never dreamed that I would ever be here— on this stage, at this school, with all of these people I've come to know and befriend. But none of you really want to hear this sappy stuff, right? It's a bit of a drag isn't it?" This earned a rumble of laughter from students and families alike. Judging by how her speech started, it seemed as if they were about to experience a heartfelt ballad, only to be pleasantly surprised with the genuine personality of the girl before them. "I've always thought these speeches to be pretty useless too. Hear me out! People use them to brag about themselves and why they're up here right now—" Aelita spoke, and as she did so, Jeremie gestured behind her '4.5,' which certainly gained some chuckles— "Or try to get people to cry and tear up, but with the shear value of makeup in this room, it'd be a bit inappropriate. So instead of doing either of those things, I choose to give the responsibility to my fellow valedictorian-slash-boyfriend, Jeremie Belpois, so he can enlighten you instead." It was comical how easily the girl changed subjects and molded the audience between her words. Aelita had them hanging off every syllable on her tongue, which only hyped up Jeremie's speech even more, so when the girl took a step away from the microphone, the blonde was ready to impress. Instead of opening his speech, he decided to get right into his intentions.

"When I was in the seventh grade, I thought I could save the world," he said slowly. Behind his glasses, pictures of eyes and code danced to binary as candelabra towers ignited in flames of red. "I thought that the world was going to end. I was so wrapped up in conspiracies and sci-fi movies that I thought the internet was going to go Terminator on us, and try to wipe out humanity. Obviously, that hasn't happened yet and we're all still here, safe and sound. What matters about this is that life moved on. No matter what you think is going to happen, or what limits you think you have— there's a world of possibilities awaiting you. Maybe it's one where you ace all of your classes. Or maybe it's one where you finally get the girl you'd been swooning over for years. Or maybe it's one where all our phones try to eliminate us as a species— hey— who knows? What I'm trying to say is: we can't know the future. For only a moment Jeremie could see himself clicking 'delete' on a file labeled Future Flash. "No matter how many calculations or simulations we try, there's no way to promise an outcome. The only thing we can focus on is the past— and boy, has a lot lead up until now." Jeremie found himself pausing for just a moment to look out into the sea of chairs below him, and even the families. He searched until he saw Ulrich's dark, expectant gaze, until he saw Odd's lopsided grin, Yumi's tentative smile, and William's proud demeanor. "If it wasn't for my friends, I don't think I'd even be standing here right now." Cords and cables were wrapping themselves around his neck, tracing each and every vein on his body with their icy-hot touch, searing their paths atop his skin. The world was a hazy green-grey that echoed in his ears and tasted like iron— "I'd like to thank your football star for teaching me how to run without tripping or crying. I'd like to think our preforming arts idol for teaching me how to loosen up every once and a while. Even last classes' resident author and Pencak Silat champion for bringing excitement into my life. And lastly, I'd like to thank my girlfriend, for showing me that there's more to life than just school. But this is my silly little story, each and every one of you have your own lives and your own memories. You've got your own motivations and supporters here with you today, so there's no reason for me to gush over mine, when any of you could be doing this right now. Instead, I pose to you a question: Class of 2009, have you made this part of your life worth remembering? If not, the day is young— take your chance when it comes. If so, I welcome you to a new era of your life. Thank you." Despite his composed exterior, the boy couldn't help but shed tears as the golden light of the computer before him began to die. He wasn't alone in his actions for Odd was openly weeping, and Ulrich looked misty eyed his way. The darkness in the room slowly began to grow as their old life faded. They stood in silence for a while, enjoying the feeling of darkness without fear before stepping into the elevator one by one, wth the tallest, darkest haired boy being the last to leave.

Everyone was clapping, others were screaming and hollering, while a select few stood and applauded. The blonde didn't even need to see who they were, for he already knew. From that moment on, the ceremony was a blur. Names flew by and the constant clapping deafened ears to the point where everything was but a dull hum, but there were a few notable people that passed by. An Italian boy with purple hair and an undercut heelied across the stage, received his diploma, chest bumped Jim, the man who handed it to him, and dabbed as he got off stage. His family was so numerous and simultaneously enthusiastic that not one, not two, but three shirts were flung towards to boy. Despite this rather unprofessional display of emotion, Odd wore three chords. A pink one for cinema and theater, a white one for visual arts achievements, and a red one for national recognition for instrumental music. He was the only one in their class to receive that many recognitions. Another rather unforgettable moment was when a tall, bland looking boy crossed the stage. Midway through his trek a fan was thrown from somewhere within the crowd, only for him to raise his hand and pluck it out of the air as if it were nothing, tuck it into a pocket in his robe, and receive his diploma. He wore a single, navy blue chord, which stood to represent his regional superiority in sports. Shaggy brown hair was all that could be seen, but for some reason it seemed like there was more to him than that. The rest of the ceremony went as expected and soon enough, it was over. Caps were tossed into the air, and in a flurry of excitement of glee, six figures stood in a somber calm. It was over. Their fight was finished and together, they won.

It was long after the ceremony, in fact, it was well into the next day. Somewhere a church bell chimed twice as the moon revealed itself in the sky. Six figures, four tall and two short, stood silhouetted against a backdrop of deteriorated metal. A bridge lay before them; outstretched and eager for visitors. No one dared to take a step towards it until a certain character crouched on its platform. He placed a single plastic stencil on the concrete, brandished a can of paint, and filled it in. When the stencil was removed and both the plastic and the can had been tossed in the river, the group finally got a look at what was left behind.

A single word was painted, and a single symbol adorned it. "Lyoko," it read, with the last 'O' of the word being an eye, which would surely watch the property forever. The sound of the river sang through the night only to be interrupted by a strong female voice. "Goodnight, and good riddance, Lyoko," Yumi voiced. "Forever." And with their funeral now completed, everyone walked away with their first real smiles in nearly five years.

#Code Lyoko #code ss17

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dfroza · 4 years

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the heart is sacred ground.

and it needs to be guarded, to protect spiritual truth as True illumination held within its inner room as a treasured space. because all things start with the heart. our words. our actions.

A point that is seen in Today’s reading of the Scriptures from chapter 11 in the book of Luke:

While he was saying these things, some woman lifted her voice above the murmur of the crowd: “Blessed the womb that carried you, and the breasts at which you nursed!”

Jesus commented, “Even more blessed are those who hear God’s Word and guard it with their lives!”

(verses 27 and 28 in The Message)

with the whole chapter in The Voice:

Another time Jesus was praying, and when He finished, one of His disciples approached Him.

Disciple: Teacher, would You teach us Your way of prayer? John taught his disciples his way of prayer, and we’re hoping You’ll do the same.

Jesus: Here’s how to pray:

Father [in heaven], may Your name be revered.

May Your kingdom come.

[May Your will be accomplished on earth

as it is in heaven.]

Give us the food we need for tomorrow,

And forgive us for our wrongs,

for we forgive those who wrong us.

And lead us away from temptation.

[And save us from the evil one.]

Imagine that one of your friends comes over at midnight. He bangs on the door and shouts, “Friend, will you lend me three loaves of bread? A friend of mine just showed up unexpectedly from a journey, and I don’t have anything to feed him.” Would you shout out from your bed, “I’m already in bed, and so are the kids. I already locked the door. I can’t be bothered”? You know this as well as I do: even if you didn’t care that this fellow was your friend, if he keeps knocking long enough, you’ll get up and give him whatever he needs simply because of his brash persistence!

So listen: Keep on asking, and you will receive. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened for you. All who keep asking will receive, all who keep seeking will find, and doors will open to those who keep knocking.

Some of you are fathers, so ask yourselves this: if your son comes up to you and asks for a fish for dinner, will you give him a snake instead? If your boy wants an egg to eat, will you give him a scorpion? Look, all of you are flawed in so many ways, yet in spite of all your faults, you know how to give good gifts to your children. How much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to all who ask!

Picture this:

Jesus is exorcising a demon that has long kept a man from speaking. When the demon is expelled, the man starts talking and the people are amazed. But then controversy erupts.

Some People: Do you know why He can cast out demons? It’s because He’s in league with the demon prince, Beelzebul.

Other people want to see more, so they challenge Jesus to give them another miraculous sign. Jesus knows what they’re thinking.

Jesus: People, be logical. If a kingdom is divided against itself, it will collapse. If a ruling family is divided against itself, it will fall apart.

So if Satan’s kingdom is divided against itself, won’t his whole enterprise collapse? Does it make any sense to say I’m casting out demons by Beelzebul? Besides, if you’re saying it takes satanic power to cast out Satan, by whose power do your own exorcists work? If you condemn Me for an exorcism, you’ll have to condemn them. But if I by the power of God cast out demonic spirits, then face this fact: the kingdom of God is here, just as I’ve been saying.

When a man of power with his full array of weapons guards his own palace, everything inside is secure. But when a new man who is stronger and better armed attacks the palace, the old ruler will be overcome, his weapons and trusted defenses will be removed, and his treasures will be plundered. Can you see that I’m asking you to choose whose side you’re on—working with Me or fighting against Me?

When a demonic spirit is expelled from someone, he wanders through waterless wastelands seeking rest. But there is no rest for him anywhere, so he says, “I’m going back to my old house.” He returns and finds the old house has been swept clean and fixed up again. So he goes and finds seven other spirits even worse than he is, and they make themselves at home in the man’s life so that he’s worse off now than he was before.

As He is speaking, a woman shouts out from the crowd and interrupts Him.

Woman: How blessed is Your mother’s womb for bearing You! How blessed are her breasts for nursing You!

Jesus: No, how blessed are those who hear God’s voice and make God’s message their way of life.

Jesus was becoming more and more popular, and the crowds swelled wherever He went. He wasn’t impressed.

Jesus: This generation is evil. These people are seeking signs and spectacles, but I’m not going to play their game. The only sign they will be given is the sign of Jonah. Just as Jonah became a sign to the people of Nineveh, so will the Son of Man be to this generation.

The queen of Ethiopia will stand to condemn the people of this generation on the day of judgment. She, an outsider, came from so far away to hear the wisdom given to Solomon, but now, something greater than Solomon is here: how are the people of this generation responding?

Similarly, the people of Nineveh will stand to condemn the people of this generation on the day of judgment. They, outsiders, responded and changed because of the preaching of Jonah, but now, something greater than Jonah is here: how are the people of this generation responding?

You need a light to see. Only an idiot would light a lamp and then put it beneath the floor or under a bucket. No, any intelligent person would put the lamp on a table so everyone who comes in the house can see. Listen, your eye, your outlook, the way you see is your lamp. If your way of seeing is functioning well, then your whole life will be enlightened. But if your way of seeing is darkened, then your life will be a dark, dark place. So be careful, people, because your light may be malfunctioning. If your outlook is good, then your whole life will be bright, with no shadowy corners, as when a radiant lamp brightens your home.

A Pharisee interrupted His speech with an invitation to dinner. Jesus accepted the invitation and took His place at his table. The Pharisee was offended that Jesus didn’t perform the ceremonial handwashing before eating—something Pharisees were fastidious about doing.

Jesus: You Pharisees are a walking contradiction. You are so concerned about external things—like someone who washes the outside of a cup and bowl but never cleans the inside, which is what counts! Beneath your fastidious exterior is a mess of extortion and filth.

You guys don’t get it. Did the potter make the outside but not the inside too? If you were full of goodness within, you could overflow with generosity from within, and if you did that, everything would be clean for you.

Woe to you, Pharisees! Judgment will come on you! You are fastidious about tithing—keeping account of every little leaf of mint and herb—but you neglect what really matters: justice and the love of God! If you’d get straight on what really matters, then your fastidiousness about little things would be worth something.

Woe to you, Pharisees! Judgment will come on you! What you really love is having people fawn over you when you take the seat of honor in the synagogue or when you are greeted in the public market.

Wake up! See what you’ve become! Woe to you; you’re like a field full of unmarked graves. People walk on the field and have no idea of the corruption that’s a few inches beneath their feet.

Scholar (sitting at Jesus’ table): Rabbi, if You insult the Pharisees, then You insult us too.

Jesus: Well, now that you mention it, watch out, all you religious scholars! Judgment will come on you too! You load other people down with unbearable burdens of rules and regulations, but you don’t lift a finger to help others. Woe to you; you don’t fool anybody! You seem very religious—honoring the prophets by building them elaborate memorial tombs. Come to think of it, that’s very fitting, since you’re so much like the people who killed the prophets! They killed the prophets; you build their tombs—you’re all in the same family business!

This is why the Wisdom of God said, “I will send these people My prophets and emissaries, and these people will kill and persecute many of them.” As a result, this generation will be held accountable for the blood of all the prophets shed from the very beginning of time, from Abel’s blood to Zechariah’s blood, who was killed in the temple itself between the altar and the holy place. I’m serious: this generation will be held accountable.

So, religious scholars, judgment will come on you! You’re supposed to be teachers, unlocking the door of knowledge and guiding people through it. But the fact is, you’ve never even passed through the doorway yourselves. You’ve taken the key, left the door locked tight, and stood in the way of everyone who sought entry.

After that dinner, things were never the same. The religious scholars and Pharisees put constant pressure on Jesus, trying to trap Him and trick Him into saying things they could use to bring Him down.

The Book of Luke, Chapter 11 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 8th chapter of Joshua that describes another battle fought by the Israelites as they progressed into the land promised to them. and once again, a brutal reality of the times just as earth has seen in so many of its wars in History.

[Joshua 8]

Eternal One (to Joshua): Don’t be afraid or discouraged. Take all of your fighters up to Ai. Watch; I will hand over the king of Ai, his people, his city, and his land to you. You will do to Ai exactly as you did to Jericho and its king, except you may keep only the cattle and spoil for yourselves. Set an ambush behind the city.

So Joshua and all his fighting force got ready to depart for Ai, and he chose 30,000 of them and sent them out by night with instructions.

Joshua: I want you all to lie in wait behind the city in ambush. Stay close, and stay alert. I will bring the others up to the front of the city; and when they come out to fight us, we will run from them. Their forces will all come out of the city to chase us because they will think everything is happening the way it did the first time. But when we have lured them all out and away from the city, I want you to move in and take it, for the Eternal One, your God will give it to us. When you have taken the city, burn it. This is the word of the Eternal and my command.

The ambush force made its way into the hills and took a position between Bethel and Ai, while Joshua and the remaining fighters spent the night in the camp. In the morning, Joshua rose early and roused the people, and he and the elders went on to Ai in front of the people. All the fighting men with him went up and moved in close to the city and set up camp in front and north of Ai, with a ravine between the camp and Ai. The other force, numbering about 5,000, remained hidden west of the city between Bethel and Ai. With his forces situated with men to the north and west of the city, Joshua camped in the valley that night.

When the king of Ai arose the next morning and saw the Israelites lined up against him, he gathered his forces on the plain to bring the battle to Israel, not knowing that an ambush squad was hidden behind the city. When the battle was joined, Joshua and the Israelites pretended they were defeated and once again were fleeing toward the wilderness. All of the men of Ai came out to pursue them and were drawn farther and farther away from the city. At last, not one man was left in Ai or Bethel, since all had gone out to pursue Israel, leaving the city open and defenseless.

Eternal One (to Joshua): Raise your javelin toward Ai, for now I will give it into your hands.

Joshua raised his javelin toward the city; and as he did so, the forces he had hidden in ambush rushed into the city, seizing it and setting it on fire.

The men of Ai looked back and saw the smoke rising from their city into the sky; and when Joshua saw that his ambush had been successful, he turned the fleeing Israelites around to crush the disheartened men of Ai. There was nowhere for the men of the city to retreat. Before them, the Israelites turned to attack; behind them, the ambush force came out against them from the burning city. So they were surrounded on all sides by their attackers, who killed all of them, except for Ai’s king, who was captured alive and carried to Joshua.

When the last of Ai’s men in the field and wilderness had been killed by the sword, the Israelites returned to Ai and killed everyone inside the city. Twelve thousand fell that day—men and women, all of the people of Ai, for Joshua did not lower his javelin until the destruction was complete. The people of Israel then took the livestock and the goods of the city for themselves, as the Eternal One had instructed Joshua to do. So Joshua burned Ai and made it a city of ruins, as it is to this day, and he executed the king of Ai by hanging. At sunset Joshua had them take down his body for burial, as the law commands, put it where once the city gate had stood, and heap over his body a grave of stones that still stands to this day.

Then Joshua built an altar to the Eternal God of Israel on Mount Ebal. He had it built just as Moses, the Lord’s servant, had commanded the Israelites and is recorded in the book of the law, an altar of stones that had not been cut with iron tools. They offered sacrifices to the Eternal there—burnt offerings and peace offerings—and with the Israelites gathered, Joshua had the law of Moses engraved on the stones. Israel, the elders, the officers, and the judges gathered around the covenant chest of the Eternal, which was carried by the Levite priests, a gathering Moses had commanded, including Israelites and sojourners. They lined the valley, half in front of Mount Ebal and half in front of Mount Gerizim, as Moses, servant of the Eternal One, had commanded before he died, so that the people could be blessed. Joshua read out all the words of the law, blessings and curses alike. Every word written, every word that Moses had commanded, Joshua read to the men, women, and children of Israel, and to the sojourners residing among them.

The Book of Joshua, Chapter 8 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Sunday, August 9 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

Today’s message by the Institute for Creation Research about the genesis mandate that people have destroyed. and God has promised to restore earth to be a peaceful place, someday making it our eternal “Home”

August 9, 2020

Humanity's First Job

“God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.” (Genesis 1:28)

This verse is often called the dominion mandate and is repeated and amplified in Genesis 9:1-7. The purpose is clear: accept the responsibility to bring into subjection all of Earth’s systems and creatures, effectively managing its resources, growing and expanding until the earth is filled with the fruits of that labor.

Humanity’s first job description: When God made the garden “eastward in Eden” (Genesis 2:8) and placed Adam there, Adam was to “dress [serve] and keep [guard]” that special and lavishly designed estate (Genesis 2:8-15) in the unique role as initial occupant but more broadly as God’s steward for Earth. There were no instructions on how to serve and guard, only the general “orders” from the Owner to the steward.

Humanity’s implied responsibility: Since there were no instructions about the functioning systems of Earth, Adam had to first learn about the earth’s systems and processes (science), and then organize and utilize the discoveries in productive ways to help others and honor the Creator (technology).

The information about those practical inventions and products of technology had to then be accurately disseminated to everyone through business, education, communication, transportation, etc.

And finally, both the information and inventions had to be received so that the divine evaluation (“very good”) was detailed in works of music, art, and literature, glorifying and praising God for all He had done in creating and making all things.

The ongoing responsibility is still in effect in us “as good stewards of the manifold grace of God” (1 Peter 4:10). HMM III

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nataliesnews · 4 years

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Nofim and the harediem 1.5.2020

A pity that the five young people who stayed at their posts were not mentioned. If things ever get back to normal I will say something. I hear now that from next week they are going to allow early morning exercises and I am hoping they will bring in their hairdresser . Nothing so far said about leaving the premises though the fellow from the pool told me that he heard on the tv that one of the suggestions was to take people from various home to parks where they would be alone

Tower of strength

In the Nofim Tower assisted-living facility in Jerusalem, where the coronavirus hit hard early on, they are slowly trying to get back into routine. On March 10 the place emerged as the first assisted living facility hit with an outbreak, though there were later outcroppings in scores of similar places. Dozens of residents and staff members fell ill; five residents died. Only after a lengthy struggle did the state do coronavirus testing for everyone, a policy that it is implementing far too late in similar facilities.

For a month, Nofim was on total lockdown; residents were instructed not even to leave their apartments. After no new cases were found there, they were allowed to host one other resident for the Seder night. A week ago, some other things were permitted: Residents can stroll on the narrow path in the compound’s garden (“the corona path,” residents call it), and in the same place they are allowed to meet with family members who coordinate their visit in advance. During one such visit after the lengthy separation, one was impressed by the residents’ positive and determined spirits, despite the recent hardships.

Nofim is run by a private association owned by the residents. During this turbulent time, the ship was steered by Zvika Levy, chairman of the residents council, assisted by the managers of the facility and their employees. Just by reading the emails he sent to residents during the crisis, decisions that were made and the encouragement offered, one could learn a lesson in real leadership during difficult times.

If the state had been a bit more attentive to the elderly, perhaps it would have invited someone like Levy to light a beacon at Tuesday night’s Independence Day ceremony. For Culture Minister Miri Regev it was apparently more important to give this honor to Tzipi Shavit, to celebrate artificial unity and make more flattering gestures to the prime minister and his wife. Someone like Levy, a true patriot, (and from the way he talks, I’m guessing he has a military past) would have just messed up her party.

How Coronavirus Sparked an Open Season of Hate for Haredi Jews

The coronavirus crisis has set off a blood libel against Orthodox Jews, from Brooklyn to Bnei Brak. And liberal Jews have kindled it

Avi Shafran

When higher rates of coronavirus infection and morbidity in Haredi towns and neighborhoods were first reported, many of us Haredim knew what was coming.

When the bubonic plague ravaged Europe in the 1300s, identifiable Jews were seen as less likely to contract the infection – and may well have been, due to their frequent, religiously mandated hand washing. The larger populace, though, concluded that the Jews were poisoning Christian drinking wells. Then came a wave of brutal torture, forced confessions and massacres that decimated entire Jewish communities.

>> N.Y.C. mayor threatens 'Jewish community' with arrests over coronavirus violations

Ironically, today, Haredim have been particularly hard-hit by the coronavirus pandemic, and are being blamed once again. Not, this time, for causing the contemporary plague (though there’s been that too, on social media and in public confrontations; Jew-hatred knows no logic).

Now the charges against religious Jews are about different alleged crimes: not acting quickly enough to close schools and shuls, disdaining medical knowledge and advice; and blindly following leaders who cannot be trusted to make proper choices.

Natanya: But that is exactly what happened The main examples are Litzwin himself and the of the Peleg Jerusalem who told them that torah would protect them and still today groups are breaking into synagogues and holding large prayer meeting

And so dawned, as we expected, a new open season on Haredim.

Yes, some Haredi communities did not recognize the virus’s virality as quickly as they now wish they had. But shuls and yeshivot occupy a singular place in such communities, and their shuttering was traumatic.

And hindsight, famously, is flawless. Many other parts of society – including partygoers, sunbathers on the beach and political leaders – at first discounted the degree of threat the virus posed, some well beyond the point when Bnei Brak and Brooklyn had embraced all the necessary precautions.

There were indeed Haredim who flouted proper health authority rules. But for every Bnei Brak or Brooklyn funeral that drew a crowd of distraught mourners there were scores of final farewells in the same and other Haredi communities, including that of the Novominsker Rebbe, that took place with only a handful of family members present, and well distanced from one another.

Judging an entire population on the basis of recalcitrant outliers is the essence of bigotry.

As to disdain for medical knowledge or guidance, there are few groups more respectful of medicine or more dedicated to preserving life than Haredim.

Natanya : One only has to see how some rabbis tell their followers that for 3000 shekel they will be protected from the plague

In Israel, many Haredim harbor, justifiably or not, a distrust of the government. But once it was properly and sensitively communicated to Haredi enclaves that social distancing and other measures were needed to avoid contracting or spreading the virus, Israeli Haredim, like their counterparts in the U.S., complied with alacrity.

Natanya :Not true as each day there were attacks on the police and soldiers by certain cults

Enlightening, too, is the Haredi response to medical authorities’ calls for plasma donations from people who have survived the infection. Within hours of posting notes about the need for blood donations to conduct antibody research, facilities in New York were flooded with thousands of would-be blood donors.

The scene repeated itself in places like Baltimore, Maryland and Lakewood, New Jersey, which host major Haredi communities. More than half of the plasma donors at New York’s famed Mount Sinai Hospital were identifiably Orthodox Jews.

So much for disdaining science and medicine.

But the most common –- and most egregious – libel lobbed at the Haredi world over recent weeks has been focused on its spiritual leaders.

Typical of the exaggerations about how Haredim regard their religious leaders was the claim by Anshel Pfeffer, a perennial critic of Haredim, that we regard our rabbis as "infallible."

Writing similarly in the Los Angeles-based Jewish Journal, Rabbi Yitz Greenberg decries "the Haredi Gedolim," whom he sees as "guided by…insular theological thinking."

Does Mr. Pfeffer consider the most respected doctor in a particular field to be infallible? Surely not. Does that fact somehow preclude seeking the doctor’s advice?

And does Rabbi Greenberg not recognize that the very essence and power of Judaism is Torah-based guidance, i.e. “insular theological thinking”?

An example of such thinking was the reluctance of Haredi leaders to close the community’s schools when Israeli public schools shut their doors. Those leaders were ridiculed for taking seriously the Talmud’s teaching that the “breath of the children” exhaled in their Torah study verily upholds the world.

But here’s the thing – and it’s a most important thing: We Haredim really believe that.

It’s odd that liberal-minded Jews tend to allow others their particularistic beliefs if those others follow any one of a myriad of belief systems. But not if they are their fellow Jews (believing, in fact, in what has been called Judaism for millennia).

Every decision about closing things down during the advent of the coronavirus crisis has been about weighing the needs and the costs. Even at this point, essential services like keeping the electrical grids operative and the tap water flowing have not been shut down.

To a Haredi leader, shutting down schools is closer to those examples than to the closing of businesses and places of entertainment. Disagree, critics, if you wish. But please don’t disparage or hate Haredim for their sincere beliefs.

So much rancor in Klal Yisrael is due to the refusal of Jews to imagine things from the perspective of other Jews. Yes, we Haredim actually believe that children’s learning Torah maintains the world. Yes, we sincerely believe that Torah study protects Jews no less than army service. Yes, we fully believe that Shabbos is a gift, not a burden.

And, yes, I urge my fellow Haredim, no less, to try to inhabit the minds of those who oppose them, to try to better understand the reasons others have to resent them.

In my happiest dreams, both camps do just that, and the Jewish world is a far more pleasant, and healthy, place.

#Nofim and the harediem 1.5.2020

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slimicorn · 4 years

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Greetings fellow earthlings 🖖🌎

I'd like to mention a couple things about the month I've had and what ive been through so far in our new decade.

I've done lots of thinking, very little sleeping, lots of healing, and too much traveling. I'm weary, wandering, whatever w word you can think of.

... this is where my post may take a dark turn, so take heed and do not proceed until I've inserted a read-more in place of this warning ...

I started the new year waking up to bury my last remaining pet, in the rain, with all my other pets I tried and failed to take proper care of when I was too young to understand. Colorful, gray, brown, bland, silly, ditzy, and fiercely independent. That was everything my other dear pets were to me, and Rosie was all of those to me. Her name came to me naturally at the time.

Since a traumatic 7 years of elementary school, puberty, wandering around, looking for family, the meanings of my dreams, a creative outlet I could understand on my own, and my twin flame both romantically, intimately, sexually, platonically, and every other historically emo and poetic word you can find. I've studied nearly every world religion, independently and without direction or guidance. I've found albums, bands, musicians and songwriters that spoke to my intuition, stars that aligned and called my name, the balancing act of scientific fact and spiritual belief in something beyond ourselves. Ufology, physiology, psychology, sociology, obstetrics and gynocology, feminist theory, intersectionality as a sociological concept, different ways of feminism and outcast rebellion. Lost friends, family, loved ones and pets appearing in my dreams. Shedding my skin as my top surgery scars swell, flake, turn lilac, and fall. My roommates tattoos, faeries, magic and studio Ghibli. The thought processes of singer songwriters with many solo acts, names, SoundCloud. And of course, the one that motivated me to remake in the first place, unicole unicron xemself.

~*~

All of these souls are my prophets, my personal jesuses, my muses and muns. As I seek noise cancelling headphones to mute the fluorescent lights of department stores, art supply stores, arenas, music in crowded coffee shops. For me, this all traces back to one source, the spirit of uni, the one force, love, and universe that unites us all. If you've ever followed me, met me irl, called me on Skype or discord, or connected with me in any way in my life, living or deceased, you have made your mark. Under all my urls, all my kins, all my starseed connections, constellations, zodiac chart, alien slime blobbiness, I'm still the same person. Wandering in the void of space, being a beacon of light while I find my own direction.

My current incarnation began in late spring, near early summer, in the year 2000. My prophets are everyone that has contacted me, left their mark, and planted a memory, real or imaginary. Neuroplasticity is real, and I'm learning about it to make it my bitch. Finding creative outlets. Beauty, makeup, tattoos, diy clothing, thrifting and flipping, doodling, weaving. Something to process. And of course, creation, dusting things off, and creating music and art that touches others.

No matter your spiritual beliefs, community, sense of belonging, we're all looking for the same thing. Love. Imagine that man <3

I sound like a hippy, a clown, a fool, all that. But I also know I'm right about some things and wrong about others. I'm finding out how to worship, create, and vent my anger, frustration, and sorrow. I don't need pity, I need support. We all do. We're human beings.

We're taking back the earth just like our forefathers did. Finishing what we started. Picking up the pieces that they left behind. We're all indigo children, Chrystal children, and rainbow children, whatever that means to you. It's magical, a bit mythical, and really fantastical. But we're all healing.

We're doing this together.

Everything tagged #u on this blog is something positive I wanted to share. I'm renovating all my socials, and will update all the pages, unlock my pillow fort account, and rebuild and regenerate. We need it. All of us. No matter how old or far along. Heal. Find salvation from your own karmic misdeeds. Follow the fluid movements of the coursing river. Whatever calls your name, follow, pursue and rebuild.

I AM still affiliated with unicult. I am an official member, albeit lvl one. My prayers are being answered. I'm finding my own salvation, my own enlightenment, my own prophets, my twin flames (plural), and those near and dear to my soul currently scattered across the globe.

May you all find peace and best of luck on your 2020 adventure towards clarity, health, and prosperity.

May the spirit of uni be with you always, blessed be, and live long and prosper 🖖👽🛸💞🙏💫💦💖😘😇

-Andy

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jameypants1-blog · 7 years

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Reading Makes A Country Great MY PET GOAT Emergency 911 The Terror War begins Ignorance is Bliss stand Proud and United rally around the Flag cross your heart swear to Sacrifice thank the least among you for their military home invasion mass murder Service keeping Authority placated rock the Vote respect the Law and State's Finest army of police who serve and protect them, Respect the Honor and Authority of the blind justice arbitrated by ritual black robed Judges and the prejudiced juries of peers any skilled Liar can persuade to Verdict The educated are educated to Accept The Free are not Brave enough to Resist Swear to tell the Truth so help you God is an Obscenity and offensive to a populace bursting with the enlightenment of Science, the premise that Flesh is the Origin of Species and Intelligence a side effect of gas Love thy Leader Hate thy neighbor Kill and chain thy neighbor Earn your Keep Pay your Taxes Death is certain It is not the size of the horn but how it's used that betrays best gets praised for elite public service Performance How fortunate it is for leaders that men do not think, Hitler intimated, forthcoming as any candidate for Office who smiles kissing maggot babies and shaking fools hands telling each in line thanks for their support couldn't do this without them Hell hides behind details and simpering political correctness, kind words expressing best intentions the enemies of which are branded crazy and evil and dealt with. How fortunate men do not think. Lest leaders and the Hell they maintain be naked by Light of the Truth. You can handle the Truth. You can be brave and free. It's these so called elite who can't. Never ask what they can do for you or you for them. Don't give up your food stamps just yet they trade for drugs just don't Serve them, Loyalty to them is so universal I am ignored and insulted. In Contempt. That's the price of Love. Let's change that. Perception is reality is their constant refrain. It is not. Reality is this fraction of a single percent of the population is a basket of deplorables in perpetual conspiracy to violate and ruin every human being on Earth. It's shocking and horrific but people can handle the Truth. Here is Wisdom: Had a customer tonight guy in his sixties cropped back hair going gray one of those Freddy Mercury mustaches adopted by law enforcement to remind everyone they're tops cocksuckers not pigs bc pigs don't have mustaches. he was wearing a black tshirt and jeans, never seen him before, recognize most of the customers, we have the same regulars rotating through for the most part. He came in right after I did, like my second grill order after clocking in. Gave me the stinkeye, and instead of going to sit in the dining room until his order was called he stayed in the lobby, got behind the Pepsi ketchup fridge by register, from the nose up visible over the fridgetop. I was on second flip before I noticed him again, glaring at me still. Eye contact, rage in his eyes. Made his burgers to perfection, ignoring him but for sidelong peeks to see if he still there; he was still there looking pissed off. I strongly suspect him to have been involved with lie enforcement, that or ive got one of those faces brings out the hate in frustrated Dom bondage specialists. kept my face expressionless, sent the burgers out and he left not long after. Felt the loathing in the air leave with him. He hates me for my freedom, like to put me in cuffs and bugger me into some Respect for his Authority lavished from God unto Moses unto the Chosen People, the Elite, who gifted us all with the world's two biggest religions Islam and Christianity to refer to in the establishent of State, Islamic States still widely fundamentalist in extrapolations and ammendments to the fundamentals Law, even today stones striking pleading girls in the face until the glistening bone pulp shows, eyeball popped out shattered socket debt paid for her adultry of being raped by a man she wasn't married to, lacivious temptress women not tolerated, kept virtuous by Ordained killers sanctimonious witless butchers in judicious black robes black masks, love and peace delegates, spread the beautiful religion into Eastern Europe and jerusalm, effective Evangelical technique of the option to submit you are the slave of Allah, either submit or get your head looped off. Beautiful religion. The castles of Europe erected to fortify against the sacred Islamic state conquering all of Elite Europe, price of doing Business, business of giving people the business, keep them stoneage and in check until final act, today thousands of Muslim migrants fleeing Syria region where isis, the royal president, Russia and the United States are mass murdering the population in alternating sweeps all claiming success against the terrorists who are any one of the four mass destroyers depending on which regions fake news one watches, the cities in ruins, the people still left sparse and debilitated, the dregs, hundreds of thousands more turning sections of Germany France great Britain etc into ghettos, young girls being raped in public parks, a seven yo girl in France gang raped in Germany lone German teens stalked in the streets by packs of Muslim youth and beaten half to death teens boasting they will take multiple wives across region have dozens of children each and breed out the natives, conquer Europe with their cocks now that the dear leaders of the region had welcomed them in. Beautiful religion. on their knees five times a day to take a facefull of dirt groveling praises toward the black cube in Mecca which Abraham built and shat inside marking the turf, holy kabba, over ten feet tall and ten feet wide the wonder of the Islamic world which one day all of Islamic Europe shall pilgrimage to link arms and dance ring around the cubicle singing and shouting trampling each other then setting off across hard desert terrain, many every haj die along the route hail Allah that the prophet Mahomet, may he rest in stink took wandering the sand ocean from sand dune to sand valley to sand mount where pilgrims collapse into the sand and commune with Allah catching spiderwebs of shade from the spray of spindly limbed trees rising several feet high here and there, terrain as beautiful as Islam itself and straight to Judgement for those sun dried brain fried dead before completing the last leg of the blessed trudge to the sacrificial slaughter barns where depending on what slaves of Allah can afford to slice the throat of a variety of animals await blood ritual, goats camels sheep sand chickens and coming soon pigs once the half breed desert princes of Frankfurt introuce fat juicy pork weenies into the Islamic diet, blonde haired blue eyed pink bellied pigs recognized to be far too majestic to be interbred with Jews, fine swine imported from outside the East where the scruffy big snout kosher breed forages in feral packs, hear them oinking Hebrew and Yiddish gibberish rooting in alley trash like dogs, dirtiest animals in all of creation, howling and squealing together during crawl in place borg prayers tuned in to Abraham's outhouse ever amid ring around the square dancing, stumbling, trampled underfoot weaklings hoe down haj stop in the stadium built around the squat edifice that thousands may sit and cheer rendering inaudible the tinny prayers from around the globe every couple hours, dogs howling offended every prayer, kick the snarling curs at risk of losing toes and sandles get tangled up in black man dress and fall down surrounded by curly tailed rabbi and black dogs foaming at the mouth eyes rolling from echoes of lalalalalalalala eeeeeek eeeeeeek eeeeeeek barnyardesque broadcasts from loud speakers leading the haj hails between free time to marry and divorce multiple times a day and trade goats for girls to marry and divorce trade back for chickens or a dozen eggs if she's missing ears tip of her nose or digits from administering divine law rehabilitation mutilations, sometimes new divorcees only fetch a bucket of fertile shit, hobbled hunchback prolapsed asshole tounge sliced into fork for her hissing disobedience to swallow the donkey load of bountiful seed diligently fed her everyday in lieu of lunch meanwhile back at the last stop of holy haj long walk baby animals and ton tall spitting camels shriek and wail, hawk lunger loads of camel snot pink with slashed throat blood spew onto the walls, slick spots on the straw, bled out into tubs and running down beards drank in hot clotted toasts to Allah who the sacrificed animals were stacked like cordwood into earthen pits and burned to appease blessings to all and to all a good time at the hotel after parties where newly married couples meet, consumate, get divorced and the just single ladies reintroduced to next end of haj celebratent to be smitten and fallen in love until the boredom of domestic life after orgasm left him dissatisfied with this woman who used to be useful but went back to the singles mixer sore and cooperative awaiting true love perhaps next bus in full of blood spattered fresh inducties into the walkabout God's country for days purification event everyone owed it themselves to do at least once a lifetime to truly get the most out of Islam the impending new religion of the well served everywhere from Africa to Piccadilly square, to be renamed Mahomet Kaba King Boulevard erected in the center of the square a scale replica of the Kaba with Mahomet himself weilding scrimtar of faith from head to toe dressed in black mounted upon his goat horse chimera Pegasus thingy reared up like a reindeer representing the flight taken to heaven to lead the prayer circle in heaven where all had deferred to him to lead the prayer circle of Prophets in Allah's den, Jesus fresh as the Daisy he'd been since the day he'd cleverly avoided crucifixion by Jerry curling his big black bushy beard and sneaking out of town on his gf's ass while another fellow, whose beard was styled similarly to his and who had assembled a small crowd outside town to demonstrate a new stain removal product for even the toughest stains like days caked Hersey splats from loincloths see comes right out and with the herbal infused formula eliminates some of the stench of urine baked in since pissing it in a wine induced stupor earlier that afternoon as jews were known to do between assuming their posts begging for pennies outside the bank, that guy had looked and sounded like the upstart they were looking for and after his miracle product failed to impress the honorable pontus Pilate with any supernatural stain removal properties except when applied to soiled underpants, a demonstration he didn't need to see twice since his underpants indeed came out clean the first attempt, hardly a miracle but in a good mood since his ass felt and smelled so fresh after the man who kept persisting I am not the Jew you were looking for I'm just an alchemist with a revolutionary new product for removing stains the secret formula is just leavening soda and grapeseed pumice mixed with water and lavender leaves ofc it's not a miracle I am not the king of the universe I've never even met the guy no one does but he doesn't travel alone with a bucket of my new secret formula removing shit stains from underwear, he's a stand up magician or something, heard there's strippers too, Im just a humble asshole freshener your honor and feeling magnanimous floral fragrance of his anus clinging to the finger he scratched along his craft to sniff while contemplating opens the honorable Pilate said let's let these Jews outside demanding their picked pockets wallets and jewelery back stolen by the whores and at least a dozen confidence men known to be traveling with this wanted man who said fuck the centurions fuck the flag fuck hannaka fuck Elysian fields fuck the Senate fuck caesaer fuck Rome fuck caiphus fuck the Torah fuck yo mama and fuck all of you cringing sex slave submissives bending over and getting fucked everyday to earn wheat penny Caesars that aren't worth a tin shit except for your belief in Caesar says, Caesar says hail Caesar I say fuck Caesar render unto casear these piles of Caesars ugly cunt lips embossed nickles and dimes and shove em up Caesars ass let him go pawn these pieces of shit off on some other idiots bc we're Jews brothers and sisters and Jews don't need no stinking sick economy sicker fools who'd diminish themselves by going along with this madness, Caesar is a paper god you drunks this money charade is just a game and your the losers for playing so fuck him fuck Rome and fuck all these fake ass God's and curly tailed shit eating elites got us all playing along counting stacks of worthless legal tender whoopty Doo what caesar says and fuck his court of whimsy and don't bend over only ever acquire what he gives you and dont obey every stupid lie he tells you is the law, tell him to take this Nation of lies and the shiney lie sanctioned house chips he rode in on and shove it up his ass bc if you don't you'll all be spending your lives sucking Satan's cock doing as Satan says and get paid in Satan tokens worth your life loyalty and labors and in return a flag to admire and fight for a song of the murder glory of this shithole to cross your hearts and sing that all who hear it know how unified and proud you are and you'll be paid to with every Betrayal his crown can afford to give you now that you've given him lives to spend. Have a free flag coffin shroud a medal of Honor for service unto Casear human sacrife pin and a bedpan full of shiney Benjamin's to spend at super Caesars super savers everywhere Rome is maurading, hail Caesar full of grace give you nothing give him everything and that sumbitch drugged the watered down wine him and his whores and degenerates robbed us and fuck yes that's him I recognize the beard kill him set Barbarossa free and so despite insisting he was not their King nor a crook the wrong man was crucified that day and Jesus told this straight to Mahomet so you know it's true bc Mahomet word is gold then Jesus said I am the slave of Allah and Mo he's instructed me to let his biggest ho Mo lead the ass in the air prayers from now on bc I'm always broke have never tipped a red Satan cent to tithe and insist that Allah sound a dry heave so does every single thing you said Mo so you're deffo the man to lead prayer to that bullshitters bullshit, guess it keep you busy long enough not to butcher or mutilate anyone for five minutes at least. Raise your Voice be offended by this beastial religion we're diminished under by these sneering aristocrats who practice it, they're the crew can't handle the Truth. Lies are all they got. Be eloquent. Knowing and not choosing a side is just a mess. I bring you. Pallid incompotence hanging from a mic stand. Prime example of why there's no having it both ways. Fuck it 🌊 https://g.co/kgs/ACnHqS

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ennaraw52 · 7 years

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What is it like to live in Buenos Aires, Argentina?

My answer to What is it like to live in Buenos Aires, Argentina?

Answer by Enna Morgan:

Twilight envelopes the city, and gives birth to a new ecology

photo: enna morgan

''Sexy, alive and supremely confident, this beautiful city gets under your skin. Like Europe with a melancholic twist, Buenos Aires is unforgettable,'' reads Sandra Bao's article in the Lonely Planet. Well, she is not lying, this bustling metropolis, better known as 'The Paris of the Americas' and dubbed an 'alpha city,' has earned all those pseudonyms. But like every other city, there are some of the not so dazzling truths that don't exactly make the ''top 10 tweets'' list, and many that, though recorded, do not make headline news.

Prior to moving to Buenos Aires, I was bedazzled by the tales of a rich, populous city, steeped in culture and drizzled with romance, theatre and dance. The home of the amorous Argentine tango, and the famous asado. I dreamt of dancing in the street until the early morning, hearing the sound of violins strumming late into the night, and decadent food beckoning from every street corner.

Though some of those images were somewhat realised (the food), the caricatured version and the reality of the untold stories left an impression that as Ms Bao stated, is unforgettable. My experiences in Buenos Aires will forever alter the way I view the country, other people’s reviews of the places they visit, and the word ''romantic.''

As you brush off the suitcase gingerly in preparation for your own escapades in this urban sprawl, here are some little-known realities that can help to ease you into the culture, and help to reduce the frequency of breaking out the inhaler.

It is all colour coded, really!

1. The Argentines are terribly colour conscious. They view the darker-complexed people as either whores of thieves, and they treat them accordingly. And by darker complexed people, I am not referring specifically to African Americans or Africans, I am speaking of……those who are not light-skinned; it is not a race issue, it is a skin-tone issue.

For instance, if you are dark-skinned and standing in line at a Confeteria (or any other such place), by the time it is your turn to be served, the price of items would automatically increase right before your eyes. Some store owners (Chinese) would even refuse you service, and very often (most prevalent after midnight, and outside of the main city limits), the buses would not stop for you. Additionally you would always find those who would want to make a point of letting you know exactly how they feel (especially if they happen to be feeling slightly inferior due to their lack of command of the English Language). One such example occurred in one of my classrooms.

Among other subjects, I taught Business English, and thus worked in several premiere corporations (names deliberately withheld) around Capital Federal. One morning, in the middle of class, amongst a group of ''well-educated'' professionals (department heads of a well-known international company), we were discussing Brazil’s economy. Out of nowhere (that I could trace) one of the students elected to explain to me the difference between the Brazilians and the Argentines (let's keep in mind that for the 18 months I spent in Buenos Aires, there was never an Argentine who claimed roots from anywhere other than France or Italy; let's also keep in mind that the topic was centered on ''economy'' and nothing anthropological or sociological in nature).

She explained that, ''The Argentines are better because their ancestors are from France and Italy, but the Brazilians, they are…..well……BLACK!'' Well, that certainly cleared up that mystery! I have been thus culturally enlightened, and had to then make notes to myself to reconstruct my prior knowledge of the Brazilian genealogy. Foolish me, I always had it in mind that being colonised by Portugal in 1500AD, then subsequently falling under the Iberian Crown, they would then be descendants of Spain and Portugal, but then what do I know! I was only the dark-skinned Indian girl, after all, no doubt a thief or a whore!….or, (Heavens forbid!) both!

For the first several months that I was there, I had noticed that I was repeatedly the recipient of very hostile stares (they make little effort to hide their distaste), and persistent searching of my bags whenever I enter into a supermarket. On one occasion, after being in the store for about 8 minutes, I was even hauled to the front of one of the Carrefour supermarkets by one of their employees (did not know who she was or why she wanted me to follow her, so I did), accused of stealing and publicly searched.

After the search revealed nothing, the (frustrated) woman (plain clothes security) who made the accusation, admitted that although she had no concrete evidence of me stealing anything, she just wanted to check (she had begun following me around the store from the time I entered), and so finding nothing, she admonished me for being too long in the store. I was by that time in the store only about 15 – 20 minutes (ten of which was consumed in the search).

Many other such incidents followed until I decided to put a stop to it…..in my own signature style. No need for details, let's just say that I established myself, in my immediate surroundings, as a force to (not) reckon with.

Before leaving this topic, I will add that I was one day discussing these phenomena with the laundromat fellow (light-skinned), who I then learned happened to have some dark-skinned relatives; turns out that they too have had to endure similar insults, albeit being native Argentines. He then explained that such discriminatory actions are normal within the Argentinian culture. I guess this acquired human habit of colour discrimination has no geographic boundaries.

Are they sexy or sex-starved?

2. No doubt the Argentines are indeed ''sexy,'' as Ms Bao stated; however, experience suggests that this trait it is not in a pleasingly seductive or sensual way, but instead, in a disgustingly carnal manner.

To illustrate:

Around rush hour (mornings, 7 – 9am, lunchtime, and after work, 4 – 6pm), as is typical with every city that relies on the subway for public transportation, the trains are usually jam-packed. I dreaded the ride, not for the reason that I would be up close and personal with a vast array of beggars, workers, tourists, and proletariats, but for the simple reason that this jam-packed atmosphere presented ample opportunity for the thus inclined men to get their jollies. You see, the train would be so tightly packed that it would preclude any movement of any sort; even breathing would become impossible.

Very often you would find yourself either inhaling the carbon dioxide of your travelling companion, whose nose was lodged half-an- inch in front of yours, or you may feel a solid and disturbing protrusion moving independently in the vicinity of your ass (yes, I said ass – deal with it!). And every move you make to re-adjust yourself to get away from it, would serve only to excite the ''protrusion'' to literally jump with joy. Ugh!

This was such a nauseating experience that it brought me to a point of avoidance. I chose to walk home from Nove de Julio, the junction where I would transfer from the B (red) train to the C (blue) line to get to my home on Avenida Viamonte. Although it was several blocks away, it was more enjoyable than the invasion of the joysticks that would attack from various directions. But, alas, the odium was not limited to the subte.

On one occasion I was on the bus, which was horribly crowded. I was hugging a post since the beginning of the ride, and being deep in thought, I was not quite aware that as the bus progressed along its journey, the crowd had thinned to the point of there being only a few of us left standing.

I became aware of something poking me in the rear, I then turned to discover that even though there was no longer a crowd that would necessitate close body contact, there was a short, unattractive man (that describes half the population) standing behind me, intent on satisfying his (obviously) unfulfilled carnal urges. Needless to say, with some well placed expletives used as adjectives, I suggested that he find another place/ person to disgust, and expressed very clearly where he could stick his tallywacker in the future.

I did a lot more walking since that incident,…….and enjoyed it immensely.

But don’t let the libido effect scare you off, there are things to enjoy in this tropical, asado-loving, dulce de leche-filled cosmopolis.

There was actually a great benefit to being dark-skinned in Buenos Aires. All around me, both night and day the light skinned teachers, and tourists were being robbed daily, but I wasn't. I think that the rationale here was simple: Since the dark-skinned folks were considered thieves or prostitutes, then they would obviously not be worthy of a pickpocketer's time and attention.

I could therefore walk the streets very late at night or early morning (which I did very often after a good salsa or tango), unperturbed. That meant much to me, since one of my primary reasons for being in BA was to learn AT (Argentine tango).

When the fair winds blow

3. After being in Buenos Aires for 18 months, I had to take a serious look at the perception of others, especially when it came to terms like “beautiful” and ''paradise,'' terms often used to describe the Argentinian experience. I have seen the picturesque, colourful photos of San Telmo and La Boca, and have heard the hauntingly romantic stories that surround these places, but the reality is that right beside the beauty and the orgasmic culture, there is the Riachuelo, the stench of which hovers in the air, and causes you to catch your breath like the sudden appearance of a whore in church.

Casually meandering through the city, with constructed walkways like a suburban city park, the Riachuelo ranks number 14 on the list of the 15 most toxic places in the world. And this chemically laden air, a combination of metallurgic, sewage, pesticides, and petroleum is inhaled daily by the 15+ million of inhabitants and visitors who are crammed into the city.

Interestingly ironic, the name of the city and province is Buenos Aires, which literally translates to ''good air,'' or more accurately, ''fair winds,'' but existentially, the city is a living, breathing contradiction. In addition to the atmospheric condition generated by the Riachuelo, the streets sport a constant layer of dog shit, evenly spread through the popular avenidas like peanut butter on hot toast. Now that leaves a lot to ruminate on (pun intended). Picture hot steaming streets, and equally hot, freshly made dog shit. Oh, yeah! You get the picture…..and it is not a pretty one.

My walk home in the evenings (which became increasingly frequent since I wanted to avoid the vulgarity on the train) was literally on a thin carpet of shit. Unlike the USA, there are no lease or pooper laws (maybe I am wrong, and there are, but they are certainly not observed) so the dog owners take their dogs out for a walk, and allow them to relieve themselves in the street.

By the end of the day, the feaces have been properly trampled and distributed by the thousands of pedestrians and it is smoothly smeared all over the street ……then tracked into their homes. Yuk!

Nove de Julio, the widest avenue in the world, spans 14 driving lanes

photo: enna morgan

I resided on Avenida Viamonte & Esmeralda, in the heart of Capital Federal (a few blocks from the famous Florida and Nove de Julio), so the area was always as busy as a queen bee in mating season, with incessant tourists and resident activity. On a hot summer's day, I would observe the tourists as they languidly enjoy their meal in the open air restaurants that line the sidewalk.

And when that good old Buenos Aires wind picked up, it picked up! I mean dust particles, and dessicated fesces that just a few hours ago was smeared thinly across the sidewalk. With the help of the scorching tropical sun, the shit is now nicely dried out and transformed into shit sprinkles. Yum! Lounging insouciantly on my balcony, enjoying this view, I often wondered how many restaurant patrons ever stopped to consider that croutons and black pepper were not the only toppings they were enjoying in their salads!

No charge for the extra topping!

During my 18 month stay in the tango Mecca, needless to say, I rarely dined in restaurants, and I never dined outdoors. And due to the proximity of the Riachuelo, and my knowledge of the fact that it runs right through the city, I never ate fish.

Sunset over Umberto Primo

photo: enna morgan

The poor little rich city.

4. I am not sure if the occurrences that I witnessed in Buenos Aires are reflective of the poverty level left in the wake of this erstwhile boomtown, but I will say that I have visited what are considered to be some very poor countries, and I have not witnessed anything close to the experiences I have had in Buenos Aires.

Household garbage in Buenos Aires is disposed of by setting it in bags and placing those in the street. Just after sundown, everynight, families come out with carts and very often they would gather around a large collection of household or office garbage and proceed to spend the evening gathered around it like Christmas dinner. They would then open all the bags and extract anything they can sell, then place them separately in large garbage bags in their cart.

Even before the sorting takes place, they would gather up the discarded food they had found in the garbage bags and huddle together in a circle, and seated comfortably amidst the stench and piles of rubbish and dog shit, they would feast. No one was exempt, from the infants up to the elderly would partake in this nightly family event.

Families in filth, photo deliberately blurred

photo: enna morgan

After the meal, they would then gather their ‘treasures,’ and move on to another area, to repeat the process, leaving in their wake, the thrashed and scattered rubbish, which, by 9pm, with the assistance of the wind and the incessant passersby, would be evenly distributed along these famous, prized, commonly exalted areas.

By midnight, the garbage collectors would drive around in their trucks and pick up the bags of garbage, after which, the hosers would come out (only in Capital Federal) and wash down the streets, leaving only the large, black, hideous cockroaches to run around, frantically scrambling to track down the scent of the food, of which they were so unceremoniously robbed.

What would Polo do? Would this become a poster shot? Avenida Florida, BA

photo: enna morgan

The next day, en route to work, I would see the clamouring streets filled with exhuberant tourists and ambitious workers, oblivious to the filth and poverty that resides just below the surface, and the strange eco-system that thrives subrosa, and slips in and out with the darkness, like a thief in the night.

And at lunchtime as I pick my way home through the crowded streets, I would smile as tourists and residents alike would brush past me in search of their choiced destination the outdoor cafe. They jostle each other to get ahead, lured by the smell of the savoury empanada and images of a crunchy ensalada as they proceed to bask in the glory of their South American Shangri-La, which they would later digitally transform on Facebook into the envy of their friends and family back home.

At night after I have made my way home without any extra baggage, I would sit at my computer and skim the latest news and stories, that would litter the computer screen like the city’s waste densely punctuating the burgh. The raving reviews would pour in from various parts of the globe, published by the itinerant travellers, who had just returned home and was eager to share their wealth of good news about the ‘good air’ city.

The story content is always the same: the scintillating details of warm summer night in open-air cafes, with a guitar strumming softly above the cafe chatter; decadent desserts soaked in dulce de leche, served by a dreamy Latin lover (you may have noticed that I did not touch on that subject this entire time; that was a deliberate omission; that's a book all by itself) with the looks of Marcus Schenkenberg, the eyes of Ryan Gosling, the savoir faire of James Bond, and the mesmerising baritone of Josh Groban, gliding along the strings of Herb Alpert's 50 guitars.

And as I read the details, I would have to look out my window to remind myself that the glossy, panoramic exotica , with the beautiful sceneries and glowing descriptions that fill the pages on my computer screen are the same pictures of the scenes in the street just below me – the sexy swell of life, love, and laughter, and its faithful accompanying melancholic twist – the train of woe, waste, and wanton.

A woman settles in for the treasure hunt, CBD, Buenos Aires

photo: enna morgan

A man tries to wrap up his collection as the garbage collectors do their job of pick up the scattered remnants

photo: enna morgan

What is it like to live in Buenos Aires, Argentina?

from What is it like to live in Buenos Aires, Argentina?

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