#my friends when i get obsessed with yet another middle aged disaster man

[mhalachai]

A decade that was - looking back at 10 years

I have just enough introspection left in me to pull this off - let's look at what fanfic disasters I've put out over the last ten years, shall we?

2010 & 2011

I was between fandoms at the time, but I had a Criminal Minds kick for a while.

Immutability: Once part of the team, always part of the team. That's what Spencer told himself as he walked up the stairs.

Branching Out (Criminal Minds/Stargate): Jennifer Jareau's first day as liaison for the Department of Defense really wasn't what she expected.

In Darkness (Criminal Minds/Harry Potter): To the world around him, Aaron Hotchner is a (somewhat) normal FBI agent, with a somewhat normal son and a moderately normal life. He's never told his team who he was... before. When he was known as Aaron Black.

These Small Bones (Doctor Who/Harry Potter): It starts with a girl. With him, it usually does.

2012

I dabble in time travel with this next one, and I still really like how the paradoxes of time hold up.

Marking Time (Doctor Who/White Collar): These are the things Peter Burke knows about Neal Caffrey's beginnings. None of these things are true.

Next up, a little four-part Criminal Minds series, featuring Spencer Reid (genderswapped) 

Fragility Optional: Given all that's happened, you'd think no one would expect Spencer Reid to put on high heels and slink out undercover.

But this was also the year that Avengers came out, and my love for Natasha Romanoff sent me down an amazing rabbit hole for the next couple of years, an Avengers/Stargate crossover series in which Natasha Romanoff was John Sheppard’s mother. And that was the least complicated part of it.

A Widow's Tale series (a 10-part series)

The main pieces of this series are Widow Maker, Baba Yaga's Children, and Old Soldiers, the other bits and bobs lead up to it. 

I also dabbled in a bit of Teen Wolf this year, starting Child of the Wolf (Avengers/Teen Wolf) and getting the first five chapters out the door in November-December before I got stymied - I would come back to this 7 years later, see below.

Child of the Wolf (MCU/Teen Wolf): Caught between hunters and werewolves, Stiles almost doesn’t have time to wonder much about the hot new redheaded Deputy Sheriff or the bow-wielding sarcastic gym teacher. Almost.

2013

Before Agent Carter came out, I wrote a Peggy Carter biopic, going off the riff of, what if Peggy had touched the Tesseract and stopped aging? It's two-thirds done.

Rhapsody in Blue: For decades, Peggy Carter has had only two constants in her life: Howard Stark, and the Winter Soldier.

2014

Agents of Shield came out and as I tend towards dark-haired girls with mysterious powers, I latched onto Skye for five minutes. Here's a quick installment...

Hell's Gate: In the wake of revelations of Skye’s past, Phil Coulson wasn’t expecting to find out what happened to Skye’s parents, and certainly not from a former Russian agent turned SHIELD operative showing up unannounced on his plane.

And oh! I finished Inevitable! My Anita Blake/Harry Potter epic, started in 2005 and in limbo for a number of years, I finally got it wrapped! Although, epic; I am fast closing in on its wordcount with Hour of the Wolf.

Inevitable (Anita Blake/Harry Potter): A late-night run-in with werewolves in the woods outside St. Louis dumps Harry Potter into a whole new world of trouble. Now Anita Blake has to deal with a new charge as well as Death-Eaters come to town.

Also in 2014 I started my baby, Hands of Clay, my Stucky kid!fic in which I attempt to give Bucky and Steve a happy ending, and Natasha and Clint happy childhoods.

Hands of Clay: James Barnes leads a busy life as a single working father in New York. But when his childhood best friend Steve Rogers falls back into his life, James will have to re-learn what love, friendship and family are really all about.

Also randomly I wrote a small Night Court fusion with the Avengers that I still love and am including it in the list.

Then Thor: The Dark World came out and after I punched a wall at yet another MCU mother getting fridged (Frigga, fridged, get it?) I started a resurrection fix-it featuring Loki’s children on earth, that was going to be great only I lost momentum, but the structure of this were good.

Hel's Bones: Magic pulled Frigga back from the realm of the dead, but not even Loki's children can shield her from the consequences of long-ago actions coming back to haunt her.

2015-2016 

the rest of 2014-2016 were consumed with Hands of Clay. But then! Tumblr caught my eye with a figure skating anime, and after the longest time, I checked it out. Which led to

2017-2018

when my Yuri on Ice! phase began. 

First up, we have the Blood in the Water series:

Water's Edge: For years, Yuuri had heard people say Viktor’s skating was otherworldly. He never thought they were being literal.

Undertow: Viktor Nikiforov has spent his entire life pretending to be normal. It's never enough.

There Be Dragons: Seven-year-old Otabek knew two things - he wasn't really related to a dragon, and he was never going to fall in love. Things like that belonged only in fairy tales.

A Late Frost: The one thing that Yuuri didn't expect about the World Figure Skating Championships in Boston was that beating two world records and winning a gold medal was going to be the easy part. (WIP) 

I also wrote a bunch of YOI one-shots: 

Midnight Salchow: Yuuri is convinced he has hidden his shameful past as a writer of Viktor Nikiforov RPF. Yuuri is mistaken.

Eight Days A Week: okay but a nanny!AU where Viktor has somehow acquired a bushel of children and needs a nanny to help care for his screaming brood - enter Yuuri, freshly retired from what he thinks was a failed figure skating career, and in desperate need of money to help pay off his student loans.

Sex Maniac: Katsuki Yuuri, Grand Prix silver medalist and a sorry example of a human being, was seventy percent sure that sleeping with Viktor Nikiforov had turned him into a sex maniac.

The Trials of Anteros: Of course Yuuri knew about Viktor’s hockey-playing twin brother; everyone in the figure skating world did. But given that Viktor had never mentioned the man, Yuuri never expected to get home one day after practice to find Vladimir Nikiforov cluttering up their apartment.

An Uncertain Arabesque: Yuuri never went to the banquet. Viktor never looked into the eyes of a beautiful, sloshed Japanese figure skater, never had the spark brought back into his life with the idea of coaching, and of love.  Viktor never saw the gash in the ice, not in the last minute of his free program at Russian Nationals, and couldn’t prevent his blade from catching in the depression, sending him to the ice with a broken knee and a ruined skating career. Viktor never saw any of it coming.

Silver and Glass: February 14, the Four Continents started in two days, and Yuuri was freaking out. Valentine's Day was the least of his worries... or so he thought.

and lastly, the fantasy swordmaster AU that consumed my summer vacation in 2018:

And each man stands with his face in the light: After the carnage on the fields of the Elven Wars, Viktor Ivanovich, general of the northern armies, was done with fighting. When Prince Regent Yuri asked him to track down the mysterious man who slew the Elven King, Viktor complies, hardly knowing how that one action will change his life forever...

Also in 2018, something kickstarted me down the road of wondering what it would be like if Clint Barton (Hawkeye) was raised by Susan Pevensie (formerly queen of Narnia), as one does.

Turn, Archer, and Heed the Wild Hunt (MCU/Chronicles of Narnia): In the summer of 1983, Clint Barton goes to live with his new foster mom in the middle of nowhere, Iowa. Now he just needs to figure out how negotiate this new life... and also what's up with all the strange things happening in the night.

 2019

And as I mentioned in yesterday’s, post, 2019 was the year of salt, in which I got cheesed off at Avengers: Endgame and resurrected Child of the Wolf, and then started my current obsession with time travel and other paradoxes:

Hour of the Wolf (MCU/Teen Wolf): Allison Stark has spent her entire life trying to live up to her father's sacrifice. But when the universe itself starts to dissolve, desperation and magic come together to push Allison back in time to try to right the wrongs.

2020

Who knows where we go? I hope it's going to be great :D

Thanks to everyone who's been hanging out with me in this pocket of fandom!

#my writing #year in review #decade in review #i have been doing this for way too long #what's that saying? #try and fail #then try again and fail better? #that's this decade for me #thank goodness for AO3

[kalluun-patangaroa]

Waking up to a new morning...

The Observer, Sunday 15 September 2002

Written by Amy Raphael

After the booze, coke, crack and smack, Suede's Brett Anderson is back in the land of the living with renewed optimism and a new album 

Brett Anderson grew up hanging around car parks, drinking lukewarm cans of Special Brew and taking acid. Occasionally, he caught the train from Hayward's Heath to Brighton, less than half an hour away, but still a world away. He would buy punk records and, perhaps, a Nagasaki Nightmare patch to sew on to his red ski jacket.

His mother, who died in 1989, was an aspiring artist; his father was mostly unemployed and obsessed with classical music. He wanted his son to be a classical pianist, but Brett had other ideas. Lost in suburban adolescence, he was drawn to the Smiths, to Morrissey's melancholic lyrics, his eccentric persona. He wanted to be a pop star; he would be a pop star. He had no doubt.

Anderson moved to London in the late 1980s, living in a small flat in Notting Hill. He studied architecture at the London School of Economics, but only while he got a band together. Here he met Justine Frischmann and, with old school friend Mat Osman, formed Suede in the early Nineties as an antidote to grunge and anodyne pop.

Anderson borrowed Bowie's Seventies glamour and a little of his Anthony Newley-style vocals. He looked to the Walker Brothers's extravagant, string-laden productions and appropriated Mick Jagger's sexual flamboyance for his stage show. Yet Suede were totally original, unlike anything else at the time. Dressed in secondhand suits and with casually held cigarettes as a prop, Anderson wanted to write pop songs with an edge; sleazy, druggy, urban vignettes which would sit uncomfortably in the saccharine-tinged charts.

Like his lyrics, Anderson was brash, cocky, confident. He talked of being 'a bisexual man who's never had a homosexual experience', realising it was an interesting quote, even if he knew he would probably always lose his heart to the prettiest of girls.

When I first met him, in the spring of 1993, Suede were enjoying their second year of press hysteria, of being endlessly hailed as the best new band in Britain. Fiddling with his Bryan Ferry fringe, Anderson asserted: 'I am a ridiculous fan of Suede. I do sit at home and listen to us. I do enjoy our music.'

He talked about performing 'Metal Mickey', the band's second single, on Top of the Pops. 'When I was growing up, Top of the Pops was the greatest thing, after tea on a Thursday night... brilliant! You get a ridiculous sense of history doing it. It was a milestone in my life; it somehow validated my life, which is pathetic really.'

By rights, Suede should have been not only the best band in Britain but also the biggest. Yet it did not happen that way. During the recording of the second album, the brilliant Dog Man Star, guitarist Bernard Butler walked out. It was as though Johnny Marr had left the Smiths before completing Meat Is Murder. The band could have given up, but they did not; they went on to make Coming Up, which went straight to the top of the album charts. Then, three years ago, disaster struck during the recording of Suede's fourth album, Head Music. Anderson was in trouble: the pale adolescent who had swigged Special Brew in desolate car parks was now a pop star addicted to crack.

Brett Anderson sits in a battered leather Sixties chair in the living-room of his four- storey west London home sipping a mug of black coffee. He has lived here for three or four years, moving into the street just as Peter Mandelson was moving out. The living-room is immaculate: books, CDs and records are neatly stacked on shelves, probably in alphabetical order.

Anderson's 6ft frame is as angular as ever but more toned than before, the detail of his muscles showing through a tight black T-shirt. Gone is the jumble-sale chic of the early Nineties; he now pops into Harvey Nichols.

He appears to have lost none of his self-assurance but, a decade on from his bold entrance into the world of pop, Anderson has mellowed, grown-up. By his own admission, he is still highly strung and admits he is probably as skinny as a 17-year-old at almost 35 because of nervous energy. But he no longer refuses to listen to new bands in case they are better than Suede; he praises the Streets, the Vines and the Flaming Lips.

This healthy, relaxed person who enjoys the odd mug of strong black coffee is a recent incarnation. At some point in the late Nineties, Anderson lost himself. He became part of one his songs and ended up a drug addict.

He talks about his new regime: swimming, eating well, hardly touching alcohol. No drugs. Did he give everything up at once? 'It was kind of gradual... giving up drugs is a strange thing, because you can't just do it straight away. You stop for a bit then it bleeds into your life again. It takes great willpower to stop suddenly.'

He sighs and looks into the distance. 'I got sick of it really. I felt as though I'd outgrown it. It wasn't something I kept wanting to put myself through and I was turning into an absolute tit. Incapable of having a relationship, incapable of going out and behaving like a normal human being. Constantly paranoid...'

The drug odyssey started with cocaine, but soon it was not enough. 'Cocaine is child's play. After a while, it didn't give me enough of a buzz, so I got into crack. I was a crack addict for ages, I was a smack addict for ages...'

Another deep sigh. 'It's part of my past, really. I'm not far enough away to be talking about it. It's only recently I've been able to say the word "crack".'

When Head Music was being recorded, he says he wasn't really there. He would turn up but his mind was not focused. The album went to number one but it was not up to Suede's standards; as Anderson acknowledges, it was 'flashy, bombastic; an extreme version of the band'.

He laughs, happier to talk about the good times. 'Last year, when I decided not to destroy myself any more, I kind of disappeared off to the countryside with a huge amount of books, a guitar and a typewriter... and wondered what the outcome would be.'

He spent six months alone. It was a revelation to discover that he could spend time by himself. 'I think a lot of people are shit scared of being on their own. Me too. From the age of 14 to 30, I jumped from bed to bed in fear of being alone. Being in the cottage in the middle in Surrey, I learned that if one day everything fucks up, I could actually go and live on my own. It's a total option.'

For a long time, Anderson had avoided reading books, worried that his lyric writing would be affected by other people's use of language. Last year, he decided it was time to fill his head with some new information. Although he had been told for years that his imagery was reminiscent of J.G. Ballard, he read the author for the first time in the cottage - and was flattered. He read Ian McEwan's back catalogue and challenging books such as Michel Houellebecq's Atomised.

Despite his self-imposed exile, it still took Anderson a long time to perfect Suede's fifth album, the self-consciously celebratory A New Morning. The band tried to make an 'electronic folk' album by working with producer Tony Hoffer, who had impressed with his work on Beck's Midnight Vultures. However, unable to make an understated album, they eventually called in their old friend Stephen Street, the Smiths producer.

Yet more trouble was ahead. Anderson says Suede have faced many 'big dramas' over the past decade - Frischmann left the band early on to form Elastica and soon after ended her relationship with Anderson, moving in with Britpop's golden boy, Damon Albarn; Bernard Butler walked out with little warning; the drugs took control - but still the band were not prepared for keyboard player Neil Codling's exit. He was forced to leave in the middle of recording A New Morning suffering from chronic fatigue syndrome.

Anderson says he was furious when Codling left.'He couldn't help it, I know, but I did feel aggrieved. I felt let down. But more at the universe than at Neil. I tend not to show how I feel about these things in public. It's like when Bernard first left, I was devastated. I felt as though that original line-up was really special. And we will never know what might have been.'

At times, Anderson sounds as though he has had an epiphany in the past year. He smiles. 'Well, you only need to listen to A New Morning to realise that. The title is very much a metaphor. It's a very optimistic record; the first single is called "Positivity", for God's sake. It's a talismanic song for the album. It's a good pop single, but we've haven't gone for a Disney kitsch, happy, clappy, neon thing.'

He looks serious for a moment. 'For me, the album is about the sense that you can only experience real happiness if you've experienced real sadness.'

Has he had therapy? His whole body shakes with a strange, high-pitched laughter. 'No! No! But I am happier now. I feel more comfortable with myself. I feel as though I'm due some happiness. I've just started going out with someone I really like. I've made an album which is intimate and warm. I don't any more have the need to be talked about constantly, that adolescent need for constant pampering...'

A swig of the lukewarm coffee and a wry smile. 'And, best of all, I don't feel like a troubled, paranoid tit any more.'

A New Morning is released on 30 September

#suede #brett anderson #press #interview #the observer #anm #2002

[kelvinerazo7]

10 Interesting Novels

Lord of the Flies (William Golding) At the dawn of the next world war, a plane crashes on an uncharted island, stranding a group of schoolboys. At first, with no adult supervision, their freedom is something to celebrate; this far from civilization the boys can do anything they want. Anything. They attempt to forge their own society, failing, however, in the face of terror, sin and evil. And as order collapses, as strange howls echo in the night, as terror begins its reign, the hope of adventure seems as far from reality as the hope of being rescued. Labeled a parable, an allegory, a myth, a morality tale, a parody, a political treatise, even a vision of the apocalypse, Lord of the Flies is perhaps our most memorable novel about “the end of innocence, the darkness of man’s heart.”  (goodreads.com)

1984 (George Orwell) Among the seminal texts of the 20th century, Nineteen Eighty-Four is a rare work that grows more haunting as its futuristic purgatory becomes more real. Published in 1949, the book offers political satirist George Orwell's nightmarish vision of a totalitarian, bureaucratic world and one poor stiff's attempt to find individuality. The brilliance of the novel is Orwell's prescience of modern life—the ubiquity of television, the distortion of the language—and his ability to construct such a thorough version of hell. Required reading for students since it was published, it ranks among the most terrifying novels ever written.  (goodreads.com)

Animal Farm (George Orwell) A farm is taken over by its overworked, mistreated animals. With flaming idealism and stirring slogans, they set out to create a paradise of progress, justice, and equality. Thus the stage is set for one of the most telling satiric fables ever penned –a razor-edged fairy tale for grown-ups that records the evolution from revolution against tyranny to a totalitarianism just as terrible. When Animal Farm was first published, Stalinist Russia was seen as its target. Today it is devastatingly clear that wherever and whenever freedom is attacked, under whatever banner, the cutting clarity and savage comedy of George Orwell’s masterpiece have a meaning and message still ferociously fresh.  (goodreads.com)

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (J.K. Rowling, Mary GrandPré (Illustrator)) Harry Potter's life is miserable. His parents are dead and he's stuck with his heartless relatives, who force him to live in a tiny closet under the stairs. But his fortune changes when he receives a letter that tells him the truth about himself: he's a wizard. A mysterious visitor rescues him from his relatives and takes him to his new home, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After a lifetime of bottling up his magical powers, Harry finally feels like a normal kid. But even within the Wizarding community, he is special. He is the boy who lived: the only person to have ever survived a killing curse inflicted by the evil Lord Voldemort, who launched a brutal takeover of the Wizarding world, only to vanish after failing to kill Harry. Though Harry's first year at Hogwarts is the best of his life, not everything is perfect. There is a dangerous secret object hidden within the castle walls, and Harry believes it's his responsibility to prevent it from falling into evil hands. But doing so will bring him into contact with forces more terrifying than he ever could have imagined. Full of sympathetic characters, wildly imaginative situations, and countless exciting details, the first installment in the series assembles an unforgettable magical world and sets the stage for many high-stakes adventures to come.  (goodreads.com)

A Christmas Carol (Charles Dickens, Joe L. Wheeler (Contributor)) 'If I had my way, every idiot who goes around with Merry Christmas on his lips, would be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. Merry Christmas? Bah humbug!' Introduction and Afterword by Joe Wheeler To bitter, miserly Ebenezer Scrooge, Christmas is just another day. But all that changes when the ghost of his long-dead business partner appears, warning Scrooge to change his ways before it's too late. Part of the Focus on the Family Great Stories collection, this edition features an in-depth introduction and discussion questions by Joe Wheeler to provide greater understanding for today's reader. "A Christmas Carol" captures the heart of the holidays like no other novel.  (goodreads.com)

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (J.K. Rowling, Mary GrandPré (Illustrator)) The Dursleys were so mean and hideous that summer that all Harry Potter wanted was to get back to the Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. But just as he's packing his bags, Harry receives a warning from a strange, impish creature named Dobby who says that if Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts, disaster will strike And strike it does. For in Harry's second year at Hogwarts, fresh torments and horrors arise, including an outrageously stuck-up new professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, a spirit named Moaning Myrtle who haunts the girls' bathroom, and the unwanted attentions of Ron Weasley's younger sister, Ginny. But each of these seem minor annoyances when the real trouble begins, and someone -- or something -- starts turning Hogwarts students to stone. Could it be Draco Malfoy, a more poisonous rival than ever? Could it possibly be Hagrid, whose mysterious past is finally told? Or could it be the one everyone at Hogwarts most suspects . . . Harry Potter himself?  (goodreads.com)

Fatherland (Robert Harris) It is twenty years after Nazi Germany's triumphant victory in World War II and the entire country is preparing for the grand celebration of the Führer's seventy-fifth birthday, as well as the imminent peacemaking visit from President Kennedy. Meanwhile, Berlin Detective Xavier March -- a disillusioned but talented investigation of a corpse washed up on the shore of a lake. When a dead man turns out to be a high-ranking Nazi commander, the Gestapo orders March off the case immediately. Suddenly other unrelated deaths are anything but routine. Now obsessed by the case, March teams up with a beautiful, young American journalist and starts asking questions...dangerous questions. What they uncover is a terrifying and long-concealed conspiracy of such astonding and mind-numbing terror that is it certain to spell the end of the Third Reich -- if they can live long enough to tell the world about it.  (goodreads.com)

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (J.K. Rowling, Mary GrandPré (Illustrator)) Harry Potter's third year at Hogwarts is full of new dangers. A convicted murderer, Sirius Black, has broken out of Azkaban prison, and it seems he's after Harry. Now Hogwarts is being patrolled by the dementors, the Azkaban guards who are hunting Sirius. But Harry can't imagine that Sirius or, for that matter, the evil Lord Voldemort could be more frightening than the dementors themselves, who have the terrible power to fill anyone they come across with aching loneliness and despair. Meanwhile, life continues as usual at Hogwarts. A top-of-the-line broom takes Harry's success at Quidditch, the sport of the Wizarding world, to new heights. A cute fourth-year student catches his eye. And he becomes close with the new Defense of the Dark Arts teacher, who was a childhood friend of his father. Yet despite the relative safety of life at Hogwarts and the best efforts of the dementors, the threat of Sirius Black grows ever closer. But if Harry has learned anything from his education in wizardry, it is that things are often not what they seem. Tragic revelations, heartwarming surprises, and high-stakes magical adventures await the boy wizard in this funny and poignant third installment of the beloved series.  (goodreads.com)

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (J.K. Rowling, Mary GrandPré (Illustrator)) Harry Potter is midway through his training as a wizard and his coming of age. Harry wants to get away from the pernicious Dursleys and go to the International Quidditch Cup. He wants to find out about the mysterious event that's supposed to take place at Hogwarts this year, an event involving two other rival schools of magic, and a competition that hasn't happened for a hundred years. He wants to be a normal, fourteen-year-old wizard. But unfortunately for Harry Potter, he's not normal - even by wizarding standards. And in his case, different can be deadly.  (goodreads.com)

The Hobbit or There and Back Again (J.R.R. Tolkien) Written for J.R.R. Tolkien’s own children, The Hobbit met with instant critical acclaim when it was first published in 1937. Now recognized as a timeless classic, this introduction to the hobbit Bilbo Baggins, the wizard Gandalf, Gollum, and the spectacular world of Middle-earth recounts of the adventures of a reluctant hero, a powerful and dangerous ring, and the cruel dragon Smaug the Magnificent. The text in this 372-page paperback edition is based on that first published in Great Britain by Collins Modern Classics (1998), and includes a note on the text by Douglas A. Anderson (2001). Unforgettable!  (goodreads.com)

[snowflakebyyou]

the past. (names have been changed)

I thought I would write up a little blurb of every boy or man in my life that has affected the way I date or look at love, in one way or another, big or small.  A virtual diary . Whether it be a random hook up or my only relationship. They’re in here if they made enough of a mark to stay with me.

First, we have Jack! My first childhood crush that lasted all through primary school. I was a little over obsessed with this boy, for years too, and everyone knew. In year 6 my best friend started ‘going out’ with him. Not that at the age of 11 it means anything but wow did I hate them BOTH! I swear from that, I held onto whatever anger it brought out in me. And through high school it was the biggest betrayal if my friend went after or got with the guy I liked or had been with. Now I know things change and so do people because I have been guilty of doing this to some friends. But something so little in my childhood affected me because I ignored it instead of dealt with the feelings it caused me to have. And from here my trust issues formed!!!! Love that for me.

My HS group had boys join in and we kind of became a family- that kissed, so inbred. I had Kai in my maths class, and John in my English. I’ll tell the John story in enough detail to understand but not all of it because I’ll write a novel. I’ll add Liam into the John story because they kind of overlap.

John.. We had English together and he was really good at it. I didn’t really ever look at him as more than a friend for a while. We had group gatherings and mutual friends but that was it. He was close with my friend Layla, and told her he liked me, and loved that I didn’t give a shit what anybody thought (which will be one of the reasons he ends up resenting me). I of course loved this information, but still feeling awkward didn’t really know what to do with it. We kind of had a few catch ups outside of school, we had a Valentines’ day together, where he bought me my favourite chocolate, lollies, a candle, a flower and drew me a picture of donkey from Shrek (at the time I had told him I loved donkey). An extremely thoughtful gesture and of course I didn’t know how to act- so I gave him an awkward hug and that was that. All this time Kai had a crush on me but I was unaware. Things with John never became anything really – I can’t really remember why but I think I felt too uncomfortable and didn’t understand my feelings, and I hurt him. Then Liam came along. Liam was a bit older than me, that I had always thought was a cutie. We started hanging out and I thought he had this ‘bad boy’ vibe to him, so I put the thought of John in the back of my mind, and moved on.

Liam was so sweet to me always; I loved his family and we got on really well. The problem was for me, was I was still young, and not ready for things that he needed me to be ready for. This caused a lot of problems for us while we were together.  Along with me just being a horrible bitch to him even though he tried his best to make me happy always. I deep down knew I wasn’t ready for the relationship that Liam was ready for, and the entire time I still had no closure on my feelings with John, it was a recipe for disaster. While I was still with Liam, we were at a party with all my friends- including John. My friend Talia and John got with each other and I got upset, which I shouldn’t have because I HAD A BOYFRIEND! Worst person ever I know. Anyway, because I was upset by it, the next day Liam broke down and was really emotional questioning me if I liked John, I got defensive and shut it down immediately, even though I knew the truth. i couldn’t explain it, but I replayed the night he kissed Talia, over and over and it just broke my heart, but why?. ANYWAY. Liam and I were officially together for about 4 months, unofficially about 6? I broke up with him in March 2015 (for timeline context). About 2 weeks later----- John and I were at a beach party and he said “ What would you do if I kissed you right now”, and I was like “lol I’d punch you” , and he said “you’d better get ya fist ready”, BUTTERFLIESSSS AM I RIGHT!? So yeah, we kissed and it was really cute and yeah. From then on, I went back to being confused about my feelings, I knew I liked him, and liked him a lot, but something was holding me back. I was a super insecure high school girl then and was unsure of everything. It was hard but it kind of went back and forth until things just stopped working and we ended up resenting each other. And after he left school it was just different. We got with each other here and there but that was it. Then the next year, as I love to be toxic. I convinced John to go for Talia again, I assured him I wouldn’t care and pretty much forced him, (this was at his house while we made each other dinner). We got to a friend’s party and let’s just say shit got fucked from there – he took Talia for a “walk” and they got together. I was so angry, I was upset, I cried and broke a light??? So of course, I knew Kai liked me, and I had a bit of a crush at this stage but nothing compared to how I felt for John, just an attraction lets say. Anyway, we went ‘looking for them’, and ended up getting with each other, and I know I did it to get at John, and from then on, we almost became rivals. I hated him and Talia together, but they just kept at it, as they were more than entitled to do, I just didn’t like it. John did check in with me but I always said I didn’t care, then I’d cry myself to sleep. It was so toxic and hard and just way too much.

For context they got with each other in May 2016. Then came formal. Talia asked John – NOW back when we used to talk, John and I said, if we’re both single for year 12 formal, that he will be my date. So that was uncomfortable for me and I felt SO shit about it, that I asked a random friend from another school, Blake, so I wouldn’t have to go alone. I hated seeing them together, because I so badly wanted to be with him.... even better I knew we had a trip planned at the end of the year together.

LETS SKIP TO THIS TRIP BEING THE WORST TIME OF MY LIFE and I’ll only tell the bit that matters, and it’s that Talia lost her virginity to John just before schoolies, yet NO ONE told me, so we all stayed in the same villa and everyone knew but me- UNTIL WE PLAYED NEVER HAVE I EVER so I found out in front of every one of our friend’s at schoolies and I KICKED OFF. like I literally felt every ounce of my body go numb, my heart SHATTEREDDDDD.I cried and yelled I was so hurt and I couldn’t understand how I felt I was fucked. It was like the air around me got thin and my chest was caving in. I felt this horrible burning feeling in my stomach and I honestly just wanted to die. I don’t think I’ve felt like that since, and honestly I just wanted to bury myself in the sand. The next day I made up with Talia for the sake of the trip but afterwards it took me years to forgive her, and even to this day I find it hard to be friends with her. John asked how I felt about it, about HIM AND HER HAVING SEX?! Like yeah dude I’m so stoked about it well done!!? Dumbass.

So that’s the John and Liam story, John and I had a history and we now don’t know each other, Liam and I are actually good friends still and I’m close with his sisters. That shit fucked me up so bad sometimes I think about it and am so proud that I got over that part of my life because that was harddddd. I learnt that my actions affect more than just me, I learnt to be alone isn’t the worst thing. I learnt how hard relationships are when you’re not 100% in it. I learnt I need to consider other people’s feelings as well as my own, and to be open about them. Its 2020 now and I’ve only just scratched the surface of understanding how to communicate my feelings properly. But it started here. I really learnt what it felt like to be heartbroken and to feel like I’ll never get over something. And I know now that I can.

NOW Kai- touched base in the John paragraph about Kai so let’s just say we hooked up a few times, and he’s definitely on my Top 3 best kisses, the French know how to kiss. But it was toxic the next couple years after we left school it was a random hook-up and he got a bit full of himself so I didn’t like who he became and he hated me too, he was such a honey in school. SO that’s Kai, not gonna lie would def still get with him but not fussed if not. I just learnt not to trust someone will always be who you first met and that’s ok.

Mali! A friend from mid high school who I got with during all my messes. Then we continued to get with each other for a few years. TOXIC Was the best word for us. We both liked each other (I think) but always seemed me more than him. It went back and forth for years, sometimes we wouldn’t talk for months then get back to getting with each other again. The last time we got with each other, we hadn’t talked for at least 6 months! I was out with Lilli and he saw me and I think I ignored him; so, he came up to talk and it ended with me choking up about to cry so he suggested we leave the club and talk outside. From there we basically fought for two hours straight in the middle of Manly corso with Lilli and his friend standing there watching. We went back and forth and he told me he had missed me since we hadn’t talked, which I thought wtf random for him to say. ANYWAY, stupid Aria, he ended up back at mine, and we got with each other, cuddled for a bit then he went home. It was really nice tbh and my favourite thing about Mali was that I was comfortable with him and I knew he wouldn’t take advantage of me. The next day when he texted me, it ended the same way it always did, he didn’t want anything more and I couldn’t handle it. I especially couldn’t handle rejection because I thought we’d always like each other. So that was another fight which then eventually turned into a huge break and decided it was way better to be friends. And now we are so all is chill. From him I learnt a lot about myself, a lot about my trust issues. I learnt that I can be comfortable around a guy and that someone else will eventually be that for me, in a better and more loving way, I just have to be patient.

Now, Taj. I’m missing some people along the way but as I said I’m going through people who affected me enough for my memory to hold onto them. So, Taj is a friend of a friend. And to start with I didn’t look at him twice, thought he was a typical rich kid with too much money and I didn’t really give a shit about him. We got with each other at this party and I don’t even know why because I wasn’t into him at all, but the guy I wanted to get with wasn’t interested and Taj was so drunk he seemed desperate so it was easy. WORST MISTAKE EVER. From then he messaged me and I slowly fell into the TAJ trap. He made it seem he was interested in hanging out and even asked me on multiple occasions to catch up with him- yet he never followed through. And because I was super trusting when it came to toxic boys, I went all in. I thought he really liked me and I fell damn hard. Because we were getting with each other at pretty much every party we saw each other at. I did actually ask him to year 12 formal and he declined hence why I asked Blake.  So anyway, there was one night at a friend’s place, cut a long story short- he asked me out and I just kept saying you don’t mean it and never really said yes. He announced it to the party and promised my sister he wouldn’t hurt me. But that’s exactly what he did. The next day he called me and basically took back everything, including the part where he liked me and asking me out. The pain I felt in this moment was similar to when I found out about John and Talia. I really felt sick and I cried myself to sleep for weeks. My friend came and picked me up that day and took me out, and kept me busy, thank god for her. I felt so stupid and let down. It took me years, and I mean YEARS to get over him. And I always found it hard to see him out and he was always around. Until eventually I just accepted it and I started to work on myself and things were good. He’s had girlfriends since it all and we became friends, because I realised my worth. I genuinely felt sad for the kid when he got dumped, and it was after that I realised I was good, and it was such a perfect moment. End of the day, I’ll always have a soft spot for him and I like to think he felt the same, I can’t speak on anyone else’s behalf.  I learnt actions speak louder than words. I learnt that I am too good to be dismissed and that I deserve more than empty words and games. I learnt no matter if someone is your friend, if they haven’t healed from their damage, it will always come out and if I get to close, then regardless I get hurt, because no person changes if they can’t see the problems they need to fix.

Trouble (Taylor). This is a dude I met on a holiday ages ago. I guess we flirted a bit but he was 11 years older than me and I was like ahh better not. He gave me and Lilli the nickname “Trouble”, and it kind of stuck. Anyway, like a month after the holiday I literally saw him in a club and we started  talking for a bit, and he goes” I just don’t know what to do with you”, so of course I fuckiin kissed him, and fuck me dead, best kiss ever. Like dayum it was so hot and steamy like I couldn’t deal. We talked for AGES after that, we always missed each other when we were out, and then I got this super weird vibe that he wasn’t single, and every time I asked, he avoided the question or made a joke about it. Eventually we just stopped talking but it was a wild time and he was the oldest guy I’ve ever got with. I’d say he affected the way I look at relationships because I’m convinced, he was in one, and it made me a bit weary of men and shattered my trust a bit more. I did message the girl I thought was the girlfriend, whether it was or not I don’t know, I never heard back.

Blake! good looking  friend turned formal date! He was also the boy I lost my virginity to in Bali, he was really nice about it, and took his time and besides the dingey hotel, I got pretty lucky with my first time. It hurt like HELL but he was understanding and made sure I was ok and it was good. We talked a bit afterward but not long after he got a girlfriend and I haven’t seen or heard from him since. It is what it is and I don’t regret it. This affected me with sex because I always think who I sleep with is going to leave. I felt used after sleeping with the two next people and I felt disgusting after both. I’m learning now to only give myself to people I feel deserve it and who care about me, and have no shame in saying that I only want to sleep with men who mean something to me.

We also have Beau, my friend’s brother who. Doesn’t get a huge say, it was fun while it lasted but he was too addicted to the party lifestyle for me to ever be exclusive or serious or anything with him. Although I do hate that he has a girlfriend now that he changed his lifestyle for, which I never wanted I just wanted him to stop with the drugs; so it’s hard seeing someone you liked do what you wanted for someone else; just proves it was definitely not meant to be anything. I learnt from him that if someone wants to be with you, and wants to evolve with you, they will. It’s just whether or not they want to grow for your relationship.

I have slept with two other boys in my past who won’t be named because they are the 2 things, I regret most in my life and shut out that part of it. But I’m writing this bit about them because I have grown to respect my body more and it makes me think better about men and sex. They are both mere blobs of a person and I’m glad I never have to see them again.

Anyway, yuck to those two.

I met a guy called Jeremy who is like 7 years older than me. We kissed the night we met, then went on a date. I read into it wrong and got really upset. Although in a turn of events we actually became great friends. I still was shitty that it didn’t work out because I wanted to sleep with him. He’s like a men’s mental health coach but also super into his sexuality so I was ALWAYS intrigued. Now I could never think of that but at the time I was still learning a lot. I learnt a lot from him about the way you speak to people, and to myself, he even started me on my self-love journey so it was definitely the universe who brought us together, even though it was just as friends in the end, I’m more than happy with that!!! As I said I learnt about self-love, being ok with being alone and understanding my body and sexuality, and learnt that its ok to not have all the answers all the time.

For now, that’s all the dudes in my life that have affected me in one way or another. Good mostly but for the better yes. I’ve grown in such a way over the last year, and I’m so happy I have started to put more thought in how I act and speak and treat people. Life’s too short to hate yourself and others. So now I’m kinder to myself and other people, and try harder to understand their perspective and respect their choices.

L xox

[mattbrothersscriptwriter]

My Top 20 Films of 2019 - Part One

I’m back and prising open this tomb of a blog like I’m Lara bloody Croft, let’s do this thing.

2019 was a huge year for movies and thanks in part to my ever obsessive Letterboxd account, i chalked up 150 total 2019 movies seen, which is... too many. Thanks again in part to the rise of Netflix originals, broader theatrical releases and a handful of festival showings (Sundance London, Edinburgh International Film Festival, Frightfest etc), I saw as much as I could. STILL some I didn’t catch (Rocketman, Shazam... Cats...) but as always, for my full breakdown, jump over to my Letterboxd ranking here - https://letterboxd.com/matt_bro/list/films-of-the-year-2019/

20. The Death of Dick Long

I honestly didn’t know what to expect from this, partly because it’s from one half of the ‘Daniels’ duo, who made the equally expectation-defying Swiss Army Man and also because I saw it at Sundance London back when there was no poster, trailer and barely a logline. Some vague word of mouth from Sundance proper was about it. And that’s how I’d recommend seeing it - as blind as you can - as it’s many surprises are unlike anything I’ve really seen before.

It’s a triumph of carefully balanced tone and pitch perfect black humour. Essentially a Fargo-esque tale of two idiot hillbillys who get involved in the mysterious, titular death of their friend Dick Long (played in a cameo by director Daniel Scheinert), things slowly unravel as they realise that in reality, covering your tracks and getting away with a crime is, actually, pretty damn unlikely. The tension that mounts as hidden truths inevitably begin to come to light can rival any straight thriller and the humour always comes from a place of character. But the genius comes in the film’s ability to maintain said tone with a straight face once a very specific spoiler comes to light. It’s deliberately absurdist but you still find yourself swerving from laughing at it to being wholly invested at the sincere pathos and tragi-comedy on display. The film, for all it’s surreal trappings, never punches down at it’s characters, treating them as flawed and vulnerable as any of us, and the leads Michael Abbott Jr and Andre Hyland remain a wholly tragic and relatable pair - against all odds.

19. The Farewell

Lulu Wang’s immensely crowd pleasing indie sensation manages to be many things - a witty comedy, an ode to family, an examination of another culture’s traditions and a character study of the American-Asian experience. Like most really great movies, it’s universal appeal comes from it’s specificity - telling a unique story based in a human truth that taps into themes we can all relate to: alienation from one’s own family, feeling like you don’t belong, truth and honesty within our closest relationships and our own mortality. Or more specifically still; how we would want to face death should we be fortunate/unfortunate enough to know that is is coming.

Awkwafina really is a revelation here, showing off her dramatic chops with a heartfelt performance that utilises her strengths as a funny everywoman and as a tortured individual trying to understand not only her own relatives but herself as well. The whole cast are equally impressive, especially Chen Han and Aoi Mizuhara as the clueless couple getting married and of course, Zhao Shuzhen as Nai Nai - delivering a touching portrayal of a grandmotherly figure we can all recognise. Definitely one of the most moving films of the year for me, it’s a marvel that never succumbs to easy schmaltz or signposted resolutions.

18. Pain and Glory

I’m a big admirer of Pedro Almodovar’s body of work, having studied him since college but I’d be hard pressed to say I was a proper fan. I went into this off the back of it’s buzz and came out more profoundly moved than I first predicted. This very self reflective piece tackles a lot of Almodovar staples - Spain throughout the decades, the pain of love, film-making, mothers! - but is so strongly rooted in a career best Antonion Banderas, here playing a thinly veiled and somewhat fictionalised version of Almodovar himself.

Like The Farewell, it is deeply personal but incredibly universal, dealing with life long regrets and suppressed trauma and memory. Cruz the Muse is back in magnetic form and the tenderness in both the flashbacks and present day make for a surprisingly comforting watch about an awful lot of self-examination. It also cannot be understated how strong Banderas is here, possibly the most human I’ve ever seen the man known for playing gun toting mariachis, sword wielding masked heroes and... sword wielding, um... cats. It’s possibly his most mature and unflashy role in years but he reminds us why he’s such a consistent and evergreen movie star ten times over here.

17. Dolemite Is My Name

Eddie Murphy is back baby! This was hands down one of the most joyful and life affirming films this year, so much so that I’m gutted I didn’t see it in a packed cinema instead of on Netflix. Still, it’s a huge win for the streamer. Before now, it’s been easy enough to write off a ‘Netflix’ movie as one of three things - the modern equivalent of going ‘straight to video’, a blank check passion project for a headline grabbing filmmaker (Noah Baumbach, the Coen Brothers, Martin Scorsese) or a big blatant push for awards glory (Roma). But this breaks through and hits the sweet spot, being the sort of mid-budget biopic the studios used to put out, a comeback vehicle for one of our most missed stars and as a straight up killer piece of film making all round.

From the writers of Ed Wood and the director of Hustle and Flow, Murphy stars as Rudy Ray Moore, a true over-the-hill underdog who stubbornly chases his dreams of reaching stardom as a middle aged man, who refuses to be put down in the face of mass criticism and overwhelming odds. It’s an empowerment story about pursuing what you believe in and saying fuck you to the haters. It understands that the only judge you need to answer to is yourself. It’s a testament to the power of a minority voice, in finding the unstoppable force who will fight to be seen - not just by his peers but by society at large. 

I’m a sucker for films about a group of people stretched outside of their natural talents who strive to create something that wasn’t there before. Whether it’s Ed Wood or The Disaster Artist, Brigbsy Bear or Bowfinger - these movies never fail to strike a chord with me. I think championing a belief in yourself, often in the face of huge pessimism or swarms of naysayers, is so incredibly important and seeing these central figures who probably shouldn’t have succeeded, manage to do so, is so touching. The scene in the limo when they read the shitty reviews of their movie and all take a moment to arrive at the conclusion of ‘fuck them, we made a movie, it’s ours’ is an antidote to everybad review any creative endeavour may end up receiving. If it’s important to you, that’s all that matters but like all art, even if you reach one person and affect their life for the better, then it’s all been worth it.

Shining a light on the rise of Blaxploitation also helps to champion an era of outsider art that reflected the lives of millions and gave many more than chance to see themselves represented on screen as their OWN heroes and not just reductive stereotypes. Plus... Snipes is also back baby! Cripes it’s Snipes!

16. Monos

What a gargantuan feat this film is. Shooting in some of the most inhospitable locations ever seen, this tense, survivalist story of a band of young soldiers slowly imploding whilst they guard an American hostage is elemental and animalistic - a 21st century Lord of the Flies for sure.

Moises Arias is unrecognisable here as the eventual alpha Bigfoot. A former Disney star, he is most fondly remembered by me as the polar opposite Biaggio in one of my other favourite films of the decade, The Kings of Summer. The rest of the cast are fantastic too, from the captured Dr Watson (Julianne Nicholson) to the morally torn Rambo (Sofia Buenaventura). With some of the most breathtaking cinematography of the year to yet another stunning Mica Levi score, this feels like a lost Herzog masterpiece from the 70s. In other words, the kind of impossible thriller that you see all too rarely these days.

15. Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood

Any new Tarantino is a cause for celebration, especially as he approaches his long-threatened ‘final’ 10th movie. I’m a massive western guy so I’d been loving his detour into the genre through both Django Unchained and The Hateful Eight but was definitely looking forward to his depiction of 1960s Hollywood. And Tarantino being Tarantino, the western influences manage to find their way into most, if not all, of his filmography.

OUATIH certainly ended up a divisive piece. Too much of an aimless character hangout for some, not enough dramatic bite for others. I was initially left a bit cold myself, knowing I’d enjoyed what I’d seen but wondering if it would go up or down in my estimations upon a second viewing. While that second viewing still hasn’t taken place yet, I tend to believe it will be even more favourable knowing where it’s all heading. I’m in the camp that loved where this film ended up and thought it stuck the landing wonderfully and in DiCaprio and Pitt, the film found a truly dynamic and compelling central friendship fuelled by two A-listers back on A-list form. The two veterans instantly deliver some of their best work in years (DiCaprio is 10x more alive here than he was in his Oscar winning turn in The Revenant) and 2019 would go on to be Pitt’s year, alongside Ad Astra. Margot Robbie is luminous in her limited screentime and while some were disappointed she wasn’t more of a major player, he Tate is arguably the lynchpin of the whole piece. Perhaps more as a symbol than a person, sure, but the scene where she gets to witness the joy her big screen clowning brings others (complete with tactfully judged real life Tate footage) is magic.

At first glance, this could seem like QT regressing somewhat but there are moments in here that stand out as some of his best work, from DiCaprio’s stroppy meltdown to Pitt’s visit to Spahn Ranch to the whole bloody climax. If it ends up being the odd duck of his filmography (Four Rooms aside) then it will end up all the more interesting and I am already captivated.

14. Stan & Ollie

Easily the most underrated film of the year in my eyes, I sort of understand most people’s dismissal of this charming biopic as grey pound fodder and even I admit that it falls into a sub-genre quickly approaching cliche: ageing Golden Age Hollywood movie stars have one last stab at fame and redemption by reviving a stage act in the UK - see also Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool and Judy. But this is so sweetly put together in every sense and manages to transcend the biopic trappings to create a more loving portrait of two old friends accepting that they love each other. It’s about male, platonic love and that in itself is rare enough.

Steve Coogan and John C. Reilly are incredible as Laurel and Hardy respectively, both disappearing into the roles completely. Shirley Henderson and Nina Arianda provide brilliant comic support as their two very mismatched wives. The decision to focus on the duo’s later years, rather than to speed chronologically through their early days and movie making prime (glimpsed in the opening flashback) means that the film is free to draw pathos from a life long lived. There are mere hints at the history between them; chasms of time that hold so much importance yet are left to us (and to the actors) to speculate about, to draw from and to imagine. The performances are so strong that you can feel the weight of their professional careers in a sideways glance or a barbed retort or an exasperated sigh. It’s so much more interesting and allows practically the whole film to feed off this feeling that their entire lives are about to reach an impasse that we’re about to witness. This is the emotional resolution to the story of Laurel and Hardy and it’s wonderful to know that this is how it went down in real life too - that two lifelong colleagues couldn’t see how much they meant to each other until it was all about to come to an end. 

Ultimately, it’s a story of loyalty and friendship in the face of a fast approaching curtain call. It’s bittersweet and truly sad, watching these two iconic titans perform to tiny crowds and hopelessly chase the dream of a comeback they both know, deep down, is long dead. It also contains two of the most tear-jerking scenes of the year: the very public bust up after one of their shows (”You loved Laurel and Hardy... but you never loved me”) and the ‘turn’ in the climax that wrong footed me so suddenly, despite it’s arguable foreshadowing, that I was almost immediately weeping. A truly touching British film of the highest calibre, it’s much more affecting that you might believe.

13. The Favourite

How does it feel like a million years since I saw this? Man, 2019 was long! Yorgos Lanthimos’ biggest hit yet, this is full of wild, punk energy and gives the period piece a real anarchic streak. Easily the best three hander in years, the ever evolving dynamic between Rachel Weisz, Emma Stone (hot off an Oscar win) and QUEEN Olivia Coleman (heading directly into an Oscar win) is a joy to watch. The dialogue is biting, the visuals sumptuous and the debauched attitude running through it makes it a wicked fun time. It’s influence is already being felt too - just check out that teaser trailer for the new Emma!

12. The Art of Self Defense

Unfairly shafted to VOD, I caught Riley Stern’s follow up to the ace Faults on the big screen whilst in Edinburgh, along with a fellow filmmaker and we had an absolute blast. Playing like a capital D dark comedy mash up of Fight Club and The Foot Fist Way if directed by Yorgos Lanthimos, Jesse Eisenberg utilises his weedy, beta male persona into an effective portrayal of a guy sick of being shit on in life, who takes up karate lessons after a traumatic mugging and slowly descends into a cult-like world of aggressive toxic masculinity. 

It’s a fantastic satire of perceived manliness, with some of the funniest stuff I’ve seen all year instantly flipping into something completely shocking. It’s another great showcase for Imogen Poots, who seems to be most often caught playing students despite being in her 30s (looking at you, Black Christmas) but it’s Alessandro Nivola who utterly owns this movie as the intimidating dojo leader; a truly twisted creation that, in a just world, would be generating some serious awards buzz. Mark my words now that by the time the Sopranos prequel movie The Many Saints of Newark lands later in 2020, we’ll suddenly all be talking about him.

11. Us

Another one that feels about three years old already, Jordan Peele’s Get Out follow up finds him with free reign to really get crazy (”you wanna get crazy?”) as he uses his blank check on another bitingly original horror social satire. Leaning a bit more heavily into both the straight up genre elements AND the often-times confusing social allegories, Us is a cabin in the woods slasher that evolves into a Twilight Zone ‘what-if’ scenario before going all out with it’s underlying metaphor.

The results can occasionally be mixed but the sheer ambition on display here is invigorating and it’s captivating to sit back and let a writer/director present something to you as unique and multifaceted as this. His love for horror fuels a tense plot that constantly looks to re-shuffle the stakes every twenty minutes, Lupita Nyong’o is mindbogglingly good as two very different versions of ‘one’ character and Elisabeth Moss is the supporting standout of choice, making 2019 her year with this alongside the brilliant Her Smell... (let’s not mention The Kitchen).

COMING UP - a Canadian stuntman, a wheel of knives, space baboons and every superhero ever

#top 20 #films of the year #films of 2019 #20-11 #the death of dick long #the farewell #pain and glory #dolemite is my name #monos #once upon a time in hollywood #stan & ollie #the favourite #the art of self-defense #us

[esonetwork]

Jojo Rabbit Review: Satire With Heart

New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/jojo-rabbit-review-satire-with-heart/

Jojo Rabbit Review: Satire With Heart

“Let everything happen to you. Beauty and terror. No feeling is final.” Jojo Rabbit ends on this quote by Austrian poet Rainer Maria Rilke. The entire film is an embodiment of these words as the main characters experience the conflicting emotions of joy and agony, hope and suffering, confidence, and terror, all under the control of Germany’s Third Reich.

The film follows Johannes “Jojo” Betzler, a 10-year-old boy dedicated to Hitler’s Nazi regime. Jojo’s blind nationalism has led him to be so obsessed with the Third Reich that he envisions Hitler as an imaginary friend who guides him through his everyday life. The film gets its title from an incident where Jojo is unable to kill a rabbit in the Hitler Youth Camp. He becomes a target for bullying and receives the nickname “Jojo Rabbit.” Imaginary Hitler tells him that rabbits can “outwit all of their enemies,” leading Jojo to try to impress the camp by running out into the middle of a field with a grenade. Disaster ensues, of course, leaving Jojo injured with a facial scar. The accident crushes Jojo’s dream of ever fighting for Germany. Shortly after his accident, Jojo discovers his mother, Rosie (Scarlett Johansson), is hiding a Jewish girl named Elsa (Thomasin McKenzie) in their home. This revelation threatens to turn Jojo’s entire belief system upside down.

There’s no doubt that Jojo Rabbit will be a polarizing film among audiences. This is satire, much like Inglourious Basterds or The Producers. The biting satire frames Nazis as bumbling idiots. Hitler is portrayed as an outlandish and moronic imaginary friend to the 10-year-old Jojo. Director Taika Waititi spoofs the tyrannical Hitler hilariously in the film. He’s both foolish and diabolical, attempting to get Jojo involved in terrible deeds. I don’t want to talk too much about his performance because it’s best to just see it for yourself. However, it’s important to note that Waititi is part Jewish himself and felt a Jewish man portraying the despicable Nazi dictator would be a slap in the face to Hitler.

Some critics have said the film doesn’t take its World War II subject matter seriously enough. However, it’s important to note that the entirety of Jojo Rabbit is viewed through the lens of a young child brainwashed by Nazi propaganda. Jojo is coming to terms with the fact that everything he’s been fed by his country is a lie. I honestly don’t see anything about the film that celebrates or condones Nazis. Whether the focus is on the regime’s insane youth training methods, book burning, or lack of basic human understanding, this film mocks the Nazis ferociously.

Taika Waititi directs Jojo Rabbit brilliantly with just the right balance of drama, humor, and heart. This is a coming-of-age film set in one of the darkest periods in history, yet Waititi still gives it so much humanity. If you’ve seen his previous films (Hunt For The Wilderpeople, Thor: Ragnarok), you know he has a very creative directorial style filled with offbeat humor, standout characters, and stylistic visual flair. (The cinematography by Mihai Mālaimare Jr. is fantastic.) All of these elements are present in Jojo Rabbit to make up a dynamic cinematic experience that you won’t forget. Waititi also adapted the screenplay to Jojo Rabbit (based on the book Caging Skies by Christine Leunens), which is endlessly entertaining. The film frequently shifts from dark comedy to affecting drama at a moment’s notice. Yet, these transitions are seamless. Little themes throughout the script about dancing and a character’s shoes end up packing an emotional punch when you least expect it. I went from laughing to tears multiple times, and I say that as someone who never cries at the movies. This is an emotional roller coaster.

Another thing that turns Jojo Rabbit into an emotional roller coaster is the phenomenal acting! Every single actor gives their all. Roman Griffin Davis has NEVER been in a movie before this, yet he’s fantastic as Jojo! He is convincing as a child nationalist clinging to the country’s Nazi regime. Instead of taking the time to be a kid, Jojo spends days volunteering for the Third Reich, hoping he can help Hitler win the war. He wants to be accepted and belong to something bigger than himself. But with each passing scene, the blinders fall as Jojo sees the horrors his country has committed. Davis portrays a wide range of emotions, including rage, joy, and unrelenting despair. He’s hilarious one moment and the next, utterly heartbreaking. I’ve seen very few child performances as moving as this one. He should be getting some awards season attention.

Scarlett Johansson is going to get nominated for the Best Supporting Actress Oscar. I’m marking it down now! If she doesn’t, I will be shocked. Her acting as Jojo’s mother, Rosie, is some of her best work to date. Rosie is the one constant in Jojo’s life. She attempts to show him that “love is the strongest thing in the world,” and her character lives by that quote. She raises Jojo fearlessly on her own and does everything she can to be a good mother. There’s a scene in the film where Rosie tries to act as both parents to Jojo. It is such a profoundly affecting moment. Not to mention, Rosie takes in Elsa because she wants to help others, even when her country turns a blind eye to the atrocities of war.

Thomasin McKenzie is great as Elsa, the Jewish teenage girl hiding out in Jojo’s house. Elsa is whip-smart and knows how to handle almost any situation thrown her way. I appreciate that even though Jojo Rabbit focuses on a young boy as the lead, it has a unique focus on two well-written female characters and how the war impacts them. Elsa’s relationship with Jojo is fascinating to watch, considering the two begin as enemies. As Elsa interacts with Jojo, she challenges his entire way of thinking to prove his fanatic Nazi beliefs are not only false but deeply dangerous. The more Jojo is around Elsa, the more he can see she is not the enemy. The title of the film works on a surface level to serve the plot of the story, but there’s a deeper symbolism at play with the rabbit that weaves through Elsa and Jojo’s storyline. McKenzie and Davis have wonderful chemistry in every scene they share.

Other celebrity standouts include Sam Rockwell as Captain Klenzendorf, Rebel Wilson as Fräulein Raum, and Archie Yates as Jojo’s best friend, Yorkie. Archie has never been in a movie before, but he’s hysterical! Seriously, what’s going on in this movie?! These talented children who have never been in anything before have some of the best acting skills I’ve seen all year! Archie steals every single one of his scenes. Way to go, Archie!

Nazi Germany is never an easy subject matter to tackle in filmmaking, especially when balancing different tones. Yet, Jojo Rabbit is a brilliant coming-of age-film that finds a way to balance satire, drama, and comedy. Taika Waititi directs a phenomenal cast in one of the year’s best films. My Rating: 10/10

#jojo rabbit #review

[thesagechronicles]

Dear Shea Moisture, 

A couple of years ago, I wrote a piece about my natural hair journey. After watching your recent ad, I think this would be a great time to revisit it. It went a little something like this:

“Growing up, my mom always did my hair. I had the bubbles, the clips, the pigtails, the beads, the fish pigtails, (you know, one in the front of yo head and another in the back lol), braids, twists, bantu knots (better known as chiney bumps to Jamaicans). I had them all. Then my mom started to take me to her friend who braided my hair. I love the lady, but she is where my problems started. I guess once she got tired of having to do my “difficult to manage hair” she told my mom to put a kiddy perm in it so it would be easier to do. And my mom listened. I was only 8. So of course that much chemicals in my hair at such a young age, was a complete disaster. My mom only did it for about a year and then stopped. She started braiding my hair again, this time with extensions, so that my hair had protection and time to grow. Once I got to middle school, I began developing a deep sense of hate for my hair. Whenever I wore my hair out, it was above my shoulders and that for me was too short. I considered myself “bald headed”. I was actually called that too by other girls in my school. Even if I had in box braids, I was still teased for being “bald” because girls who had ��good hair” didn’t wear fake hair. Of course I was obsessed with having long hair because that’s all that I saw around me. So I started to get blow outs. At this time, my hair was healthy and thick. But that didn’t last for long because it began breaking due to excessive heat and also because of the cotton scarves and hats I constantly wore. Because of that combined with the fact that every time I went to a salon, to get my hair done, stylists would make rude remarks and consistently tell me and my mother that I needed a perm, I returned back to getting them. By my own choice this time. I was 14.

My hair began falling out and in the back of my head, the hair was pretty non existent. You could literally see through my hair because it was thinning so bad. I became extremely insecure about my hair at this time. I absolutely HATED it. I would look in the mirror and just be completely disgusted. I cried A LOT. My mom, after seeing how damaged my hair was getting, took me to a Black hair care professional. She was the first Black stylist I ever went to (besides for braids). She immediately told me that my hair was over processed, which meant my previous stylist was perming my ends which is a BIG no no. Her name was Shirley and she saved my life lol. She literally nursed my hair back to health after a drastic cut (I was still getting perms). But I was still not completely happy with the thinness of my hair. So before junior year, I got a weave! My confidence was beginning to blossom when I started wearing weaves even though it wasn’t my hair. I think weaves really changed the way I thought about myself and my hair. After my first weave I stopped perming my hair. I was between weaves and braids for the next 2 years. My hair did a complete 180 and grew back really strong. When I first took out my weave and braids after 2 years, I found that I was still insecure. I still didn’t want to wash my hair in a salon because of fear of what other people would think about my natural shrinkage. I was even afraid to display my fro in front of friends and family! I thought people would only see me as nappy headed, which was negative to me. But then once I started to witness the natural hair movement and girls with hair like mine, I was so touched. Suddenly I was like “fuck this! my hair is beautiful!”. And for the first time I actually believed it. I am 20 now and I have just began embracing my natural hair. It gets tough sometimes. Most of the time I just want to rip it out and cut it off but I look back at this crazy journey and I am so proud of myself. I really think it takes time as a Black girl to learn to love your hair because there are so many people that tell you it’s ugly. We see it in movies, shows, and on magazines. We hear it from kids at school, from our own family members, our own mothers, and our own Black men. But there’s gonna be a time when you just have to tune out everyone for the sake of your own sanity. Because we “don’t have hair” when we wear weave, we’re “ghetto” when we wear braids, we’re “ugly” when we wear our natural hair, and we’re “trying to be white” when we perm our hair. We’ll never be enough for them, but who gives a shit? We have to be enough for ourselves. That’s all that matters.”

As you can see, Shea Moisture, my natural hair journey has not been a pretty one, like most Black girls. And after experiencing what I have experienced and what so many of us Black women have experienced, I am completely perplexed to how you could ever think that our “hair hate” is equal to the “hair hate” of three white women with straight, blonde and red hair. White women, who are seen as the pinnacle of beauty around the globe. I did not take you for a tone deaf, reckless, and irresponsible company. I thought that Black hair companies like you would be more than aware of white beauty standards in this country and how they are directly responsible for the internalized hatred of black features. But you are not.

You probably already know this, but Black women make up the biggest percentage of your consumers. We built you. We sustain you. Yet with this ad, you sent a clear message. We are secondary to you. We are an after thought. And I know what you were probably thinking when you casted the light skin woman with 3c curls. Diversity! amirite?! No. All you did was feed into the colorism and the hierarchy in the natural hair community. That model you chose did absolutely nothing for the Black women with 4c hair (like myself) and dark skin. 

But I guess I should have known better huh? I’ve walked into Target, Walgreens, and Walmart and I have seen your products up and down the aisles. I cannot say the same for companies like Aunt Jackie. I guess you really succeeded when you made it out of the the hair aisles in our local beauty supplies to ULTA. And maybe I should have known something was up when you started that #BreaktheWall campaign. Or maybe I should have known when you sold your company. I really should have known when nonblack friends were posting your products on snapchat for “wash day”. 

What’s even more disappointing about this ordeal, is that when shit hit the fan, you showed your true colors. 

You backed a misogynoiristic man who victim blamed Black women for their own assaults. Nice job. I bet your founder, Sofi Tucker, is turning in her grave.

I see what you’re doing. You’re not just expanding your market, your replacing your core foundation. We’ve got the message loud and clear. 

Continue centering white women and preaching that #allhairhatematters bullshit. But Black women are done with being erased and we are no longer sitting around and waiting for anyone to acknowledge, accredit, or validate us. 

In the iconic and legendary words of Robin Stokes, “a white woman can have your sorry ass”. And black woman will not be there when you come looking for us.

Sincerely,

                An angry Black woman. 

(above image taken from forharriet.com)

#identities #think pieces #black women #black natural hair #natural hair #natural hair community #hair hate #misogynoir #shea moisture

[mygangtome]

who were they then, who are they now: richard armitage

My dearest, dearest tumblr user. We’ve been here before, haven’t we? I’ve tried time and again to persuade you to watch this glorious, bonkers, utterly compelling madhouse of a show, and despite my recommendations of yesteryear, you still haven’t been persuaded.

So I’m going to have to bring out the big nose guns.

HEY! ARE YOU IN ANY OF THE FOLLOWING FANDOMS: THE HOBBIT, HANNIBAL, SPOOKS, CAPTAIN AMERICA?

DOES THIS FACE LOOK GOOD TO YOU?

pictured here: god he’s so dashing i hate him so muuhuhuhuch

Ladies, gents, and nonbinary friends, I present to you Richard Crispin Armitage. If you don’t know who he is, you probably haven’t been on Tumblr before.

who he was before?

pictured here: he’s a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity

Back in the hazy, long-gone days of 2006, Richard Armitage already had a more substantial following than a lot of the Robin Hood cast. He’d been around a bit in stage and the small screen; he joined a circus in Budapest, played Macavity in Cats, stood by the side of a pool as eye candy in Cold Feet, gave a career-defining performance as Smug Man At Party in This Year’s Love, and even turned up as an extra in Star Wars.

pictured here: DIDN’T KNOW THAT, DID YOU, EH?

The sudden explosion of Richard into the public consciousness is primarily due to the BBC’s North and South in 2004, in which he played a brooding Northerner who primarily wears black and holds a position of power.

Then he got cast as Guy of Gisborne, a brooding Midlander who solely wears black and holds a position of power.

Typecasting? What’s that?

who was he then?

I’ve talked extensively for previous My Gang To Me days about Guy’s character, and his excellently melodramatic interactions with other characters on the show. He’s the big baddie in a show which needs one; the sneering, scowling foil to Robin’s optimistic heroism. But he’s also generous to a fault, obsessively loving, and full of thwarted ambitions. No other character divides the fandom more - is he a misunderstood good guy or an overindulged crybaby? Are he and Marion meant to be or an abusive relationship? Does he deserve a redemption arc? I DON’T KNOW, I’M NOT THE BOSS OF ROBIN HOOD, STOP ASKING ME ALL THESE QUESTIONS.

pictured here: there’s no such thing as too much eyeliner

Two years ago, I wrote the following about Guy, and it holds true:

More often than not we end our hijinks with an exasperated shout of “GISSSSBORRRRRRNE!” echoing through the castle and a shot of Guy slinking off to explain how he got foiled this week… Despite being a handsome devil, he is so deliciously dislikeable in a proper, old-school, tying-people-to-the-railroad tracks kind of way. And I’ll be honest, it’s worth watching the show just for a demonstration of how Armitage is able to smoulder with all parts of his body up to and including his back.

Where the Sheriff revels in his own villainy, Guy never thinks of himself as anything but The Hero Of This Story, and is all the more gloriously villainous for it. It certainly doesn’t hurt that the show is well aware of the fact that Richard looks nice without a shirt on.

pictured here: how many times can i use this screencap before it become gratuitous

Admittedly, my particular preference is for bearded-and-soulful-Armitage (more on that later on) but you know, any Armitage is good Armitage.

richard on guy

The Thing You Probably Know Already About Richard Armitage is that he is a ~method actor, which means that he takes all his roles Very Seriously. He wrote a diary for Thorin. He underwent waterboarding in order to get in character for his role as Lucas North in Spooks. He got extremely into William Blake for Dolarhyde. And, believe it or not, he also got very emotionally attached to Guy.

Today, [Richard] knocks on [series writer Dominic Minghella’s] door with a pencil and pad. Can he ask me some questions about his character? I tell him, truthfully, that I can’t believe he is here - an actor of his talent, sitting on my sofa, talking to me about playing this part. I feel so lucky. Suddenly, I stop myself - do I destroy what little (gamma-male) authority I have by being so candid? I glance at him. My concerns are unfounded. He is blushing. 

source: interview in sunday telegraph, october 2006

pictured here: richard cosplaying as 80s investment banking!au guy of gisborne

I can’t even be mad at this point. 

His own opinions on Guy are about as complicated as the fandom’s.

“I’m really hoping that when people sit and watch this, when Gisborne is trying to woo Marian they absolutely squirm in their seats and their skin is crawling. That was my main aim with this character, to make people absolutely despise him.” 

source: interview on bbc robin hood website, october 2006 

“His love for Marian is something which is beginning to unravel him and he’s becoming more human through her. It’s actually surprising him. I don’t think he quite realises what’s happening to him - he’s becoming human throughout the course of the series, I think.” 

source: interview on robin hood audiobook, “will you tolerate this?”

who did he become?

pictured here: i’ve never seen spooks so i can’t comment but OOH, DASHING

After Robin Hood, Richard officially became a Household Name when he joined the cast of Spooks as Lucas North, a series regular. Technically he started filming it whilst finishing off Robin Hood, which must have been an experience.

He stayed with Spooks for three years, becoming That Guy Off Spooks With The Face, You Know The One, and also turned his hand to a few other television and film roles over the years. 

He warmed the cockles of our collective hearts when he turned up as Dawn French’s love interest and future husband Harry Kennedy in The Vicar of Dibley. Bit of a jump for him, this one, as it’s a handsome and charming accountant, rather than a handsome and charming spy. Still, he rose to the occasion masterfully, and also got to snog Dawn French, so he won on multiple accounts.

In 2011, he turned up as the bespectacled Nazi spy Heinz Kruger in Captain America: The First Avenger. He got to have a secret submarine and run around with tommy guns. One time Chris Evans punched him in the face. It was awesome.

And then Thorin happened.

pictured here: majesty~

I will keep this brief, because if I talk too much about Thorin Oakenshield I’ll burst into tears, but it was the role that changed his life.

“I just think it’s a really amazing opportunity to take a character from a book that I was brought to as a child. My first experience on stage was in a production of The Hobbit at the Alex Theatre in Birmingham, and I played an elf.  And Gollum was a papier-mache puppet with a man offstage on a microphone. It’s been in my childhood very prominently, so to come to it as an adult,  a middle-aged man, and have another look at it is a brilliant opportunity." 

source: ‘the hobbit’ cast press conference, february 2011

Yes, that’s right, Richard Armitage is a Tolkien nerd. He wore elf ears made from cereal boxes to see the Two Towers in cinemas (he was thirty years old at the time).  And in 2012 he first graced our screens as Thorin, the proud and noble long-lost king of Erebor and a significant change of pace for a man who had developed a career as shifty, morally-dubious hired killers. 

He developed a reputation on set for being “moody and broody” (his words, not mine), due to all that method acting stuff that kept him fretting about the fate of the dwarven race when everyone else was fretting about lunch, but his performance was hailed as one of the best in the trilogy and - of course - it absolutely transformed his career.

who is he now?

Good question, and really one for Richard himself, or his doctor or his therapist or maybe a priest, but we’ll take a stab at it anyway.

After The Hobbit, Richard took a break from the massive media scrutiny and did what all British actors do when they’re scared, which is be in a play. In his case, the play was The Crucible at the Old Vic (I saw it, it was INCREDIBLE) and it earned him an Olivier nomination.

pictured here: bad timez 4 johnny p

He bounced from that into a couple of movies that you are, on the whole, unlikely to have seen - disaster movie Into The Storm, social drama Urban and the Shed Crew, bizarre fantasy Alice Through The Looking Glass…

But his most iconic role of late has been in Hannibal, as serial-killer-with-a-heart-of-gold-actually-no-wait-he-murders-people Francis Dolarhyde. He joined Hannibal for the last explosive season, and seems to have had a lot of fun killing people and wearing flower crowns and… I don’t know, I don’t go here, I’m doing my best.

pictured here: @nettlestonenell challenged me to fit at least one additional shirtless shot into this post, so here’s naked dolarhyde doing something that’s probably evil

It seems to have gone down well with the fans. And things are only looking up for our boy, who’s filming season two of his spy thriller Berlin Station as we speak. He’s based in London these days - still famously private about his private life, but happy to chat on twitter and instagram - just finished performing in his off-Broadway debut in Mike Bartlett’s Love, Love, Love, earning rave reviews, and he’s got several movies coming up.

my gang, to me!

Have I persuaded you yet that you want to get to know the man who was Guy of Gisborne? Well, you’re in luck - the boy’s been busy. You might see him on the big screen this year in Pilgrimage, or Ocean’s Eight, or Brain on Fire. He’s aging well, like a fine wine, and you only have to poke a toe into his tumblr tag to find that his ‘army’ of fans are as passionate now as they were when Guy first slithered onto our screens, eleven years ago today.

pictured here: then & now

I think he might actually be aging in reverse.

Of course, if you want to see more of Richard, there’s one surefire way to do it - and it’s the reason I made this post. Come along and join the gang in Sherwood, and get to know Guy for yourself! Buy some DVDs, or fire up a stream, and settle down with a couple of glorious episodes of the friendliest, loveliest show in television - BBC Robin Hood. 

No matter how famous he gets, to us, he’ll always be Guy. And we wouldn’t have him any other way.

Sorry, guys. We saw him first.

-

post by @interestinggin / with thanks to richardarmitage.net & richardarmitageonline.com

#my gang to me 2017 #who they are now #guy of gisborne #richard armitage #bbc robin hood #guy #interestinggin #submission

[addicted-to-ragehappy]

Another Stray Heart [Chapter 1] [Platonic AH OT6]

Title: Another Stray Heart

Pairing: Friendship AH OT6

Rating: K+

Genre: AU/General

Words: 2787

Prompt/Summary: The world can be a cruel place, for some more than others. This is the story of how six very different kids came together to face the troubles of everyday life. This is the story of how six kids found belonging within one another.

A/N: Whelp. Here’s chapter 1. Since I started this with Ray, I intend on keeping it that way. I WILL take requests with Ray in the OT6, rather than Jeremy, but you HAVE TO ASK or I won’t do it. Anyway, enjoy! ~No One

–

“Geoffery Ramsey, get down here and get this mess cleaned up!”

The brunette male sighed, rolling his eyes at his mother’s beckoning. Though it wouldn’t be the first time his mother had called for him to clean a mess that she’d made, but was too lazy to clean. However, the frequency of these events had begun to increase. As much as he wanted to say something to her, anything to make her realize what she was doing, he stayed silent. “Coming, Mom!”

The woman did not respond after, which was how most of their conversations seemed to go. Anything beyond that was the quick relay of cleaning tasks, or screaming matches between the two that would last for days. Geoff remembered the days before his mother began to deteriorate; the days his father was still around. When his father died overseas, Geoff’s mother began to shut him out, and eventually remarried. Gone were the days that Geoff would come home from school to a loving mother and fresh baked cookies. Gone were the days that his mother would attend his games back when he played sports. Though the good times would never return, Geoff knew there was no harm in being nostalgic.

Geoff nearly sighed in relief when he made it to the bottom of the stairs, only to see his mother slipping her coat on. Finally, some peace and fucking quiet, he thought bitterly.

“I’m going to see my friends for a while,” she relayed without displaying emotion. “You know how the stove works if you get hungry. Your stepfather will be home in a few hours. And I want that mess in the office cleaned up before I get home, do you understand?”

“Yep.” If his mother had caught on to the irritation in his voice, she didn’t show it. Rather, she dismissed him and walked out the front door. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Geoff slipped into the office and switched the light on. “Holy shit.” His eyes widened as he scanned the room. There were boxes of probably-important papers strewn all over the floor, the computer desk had been pushed to the middle of the room and the computer disconnected from the wall, and miscellaneous items from said desk were tossed aside, some broken. How did I not hear her do this? Sometimes, he wondered if his mother did this stuff on purpose. But with a hefty sigh, he began putting papers and other assorted items into boxes. I guess I’ll never know.

--

Jack grinned, his eyes flashing with a slight tinge of victory. After relentlessly playing Dark Souls for a straight two weeks, he had finally managed to complete the game and get all of the achievements. He knew that, in a normal person’s eyes, he’d wasted a lot of time, but without many other hobbies, he found it just as enjoyable as hanging out with Geoff. With his grandparents gone for the month, he’d been given free reign of the house. Most kids his age would have thrown a party. Jack just spent time by himself. Sometimes, as he sat around an empty house, he wished he was like his classmates. Good at sports, or at least making friends. The teenager was lucky that he had Geoff.

With a huff, he put the controller aside, just in time to hear his cell phone ringing. The device stopped ringing as he picked it up, and he unlocked it to see a missed call from his grandmother and a text from Geoff. Opening the text first, he was greeted by a picture of his mother’s office, which was in a state of disaster. Under the picture, Geoff had written “My mom is crazy”, which forced a laugh from Jack. He sent Geoff a quick reply before calling his grandmother back. “Hey gram, sorry I missed your call. Oh, you’re on your way back? It’ll be good to see you. Is the house clean?” Jack looked around. The house wasn’t disgusting, but the floor was littered with old drink cans and plates. “Yeah, it looks great. What was that? You’ll be back in a few hours? Okay, great! Can’t wait to see you! Yeah, I love you too. Bye.” He hung up his phone and glanced at the untidy room. “Oh fuck it, this isn’t that bad. Geoff’s got it worse.” Rolling up the sleeve to his hoodie, his face hardened. “Well, it’s not going to clean itself.”

[CLEANING MONTAGE MOTHERFUCKER]

An hour later, with a broken vacuum to prove his efforts, the house looked like it had never been lived in. Glancing at the clock, he realized his grandparents wouldn’t be back for a while yet. I’ll go see Geoff. He must be going crazy. Slipping a note for his grandmother on the fridge, Jack threw his shoes on and walked out the door. Even if his mother was crazy, Jack couldn’t deny that Geoff’s home was easily his second.

--

Though the blonde was cold and wet, Ryan felt like he’d made a difference. It wasn’t every day that he was able to save a child from drowning in a local pond. Though the mother of the child he’d saved blamed Ryan, Ryan knew the truth about the situation, and refused to let the angry mother destroy his pride. It was all he had left.

It was due to be dark soon, though the Texas heat was removing the moisture from his clothing and relieving him from the chill the water had given him. Luckily, the water was relatively clean, and he’d be able to wear his hoodie to school tomorrow. He had another one, sitting in his bag of clothes, but it was dirtier than the one he was wearing right now. Ryan knew he needed to find a way to do laundry soon.

With a loud rumble, Ryan groaned. He was hungry, as he hadn’t eaten in a few days, but it was a feeling he was gradually getting used to. He would find something to eat before tomorrow, though. He couldn’t faint at school.

The blonde boy walked down the street, watching as cars passed by in a flurry of lights. The people inside of them were obsessed with their own lives, so much that they hardly noticed the homeless child walking beside them. Ryan knew that everyone had a set of hardships; he knew more than the average twelve-year-old should, but he was completely baffled by the insincerity that others held. Especially towards those who were less-fortunate. One day, when things finally get better, I won’t be like the others. I’ll help everyone that needs it, because I know. I know what its like to have nothing. He refused to let the bad people crush his dreams.

Ryan was yanked away from his thoughts when a car drove through a puddle. The young lad was splashed, dampening his near-dry clothing. “Hey!” he squeaked. But as usual, the driver paid no mind to the child. It was as if Ryan wasn’t even there.  “Stupid adults…”

Having been put in a sour mood, Ryan gave up his hunt for food, and instead ducked into the back alleyway he’d stayed in the night before. His bag of clothes was still there, hidden behind the dumpster, but he needed to stay on the move. If someone he knew saw him here… But he was tired, and he rested against the brick wall of the building that owned the dumpster. He only wanted to rest for a moment, but as usual, once he closed his eyes, he drifted into a light sleep.

--

“Get back here you little runt!”

Michael ran down the street as quickly as he could, holding a small bundle of bread in his arms. Stealing wasn’t something he liked to do, but he hadn’t had a chance to eat since lunch on Friday, and he was starving. The man chasing him, however, didn’t know about this, nor did it look like he cared. Luckily, Michael’s small body was much faster than the bakery owner’s, and he managed to tuck himself away in a corner before he was seen.

The small piece of bread would seem meager and useless to anyone else, but Michael was quite literally a beggar, and he didn’t have the luxury of being picky. Instead, he devoured his prize swiftly. His hunger remained nearly untouched, but he was thankful anyway. He was young, but wise, and knew not to question things. Though he anticipated a hungry evening, he had school tomorrow, and he’d be able to snag a lunch.

Hearing the yelling from down the street, Michael realized he needed somewhere to hide. He then smiled as he was struck with an idea. I can go hide at Ray’s house for a bit… With his new plan in mind, Michael snuck out of the alley, but was instantly grabbed by a pair of strong, hairy arms. Without a moment’s hesitation, Michael struggled against the man’s grip. “Let go of me!” the redhead screeched.

“I don’t think so, you little brat! I don’t care if you’re just a stupid kid; people who steal from me don’t get away easily!”

The bakery owner was big and mean-looking, and the angry look on his face was enough to scare Michael. Instinctively, the redhead wiggled so he would slide further down the man’s grip, and bit his arm as hard as he could. “Eeaugh! You brat!”

When his grip slackened, Michael landed on his rear, but wasted no time in getting up and sprinting away while the shop owner was busy nursing his wound. Michael stopped at a corner to catch his breath, but he could hear the man cursing as he chased after him. His green eyes widened; he was far too winded to run anymore. He was sure he was a goner. What he didn’t count on, however, was for a different pair of hands to grab at him and pull him into a small, dark space. Michael opened his mouth to yell in surprise, but it was covered quickly.

“Shut up, or he’ll find you.”

The voice didn’t belong to Ray, but Michael was as grateful as if it had been his best friend. “Who are you?” he whispered in a scared voice. “Where am I?”

“You’re in a dumpster outside the new Italian restaurant,” the kid responded cooly. “And I’m Ryan. I’ve seen you at school, but I’ve never talked to you.”

“Why did you help me?”

Ryan scoffed. “All the racket you made woke me from my nap. If you hadn’t made such a fuss, you’d have been caught. But I’ve been in the same place you are; I didn’t want you to get caught and get in big trouble.”

Michael fell silent, listening as things outside began to die down, and he was suddenly brought back into the bright outside world. Ryan, who was a slightly taller blonde boy, climbed out with him. For a moment, Michael said nothing, and looked out at the street. The baker was gone, so he could finally talk to Ryan. “Did you just say you were napping? Why were you sleeping outside?” When he didn’t get an answer, Michael turned around, but Ryan was gone. “But… I didn’t even get to say thank you…” With a disappointed sigh, Michael brushed the garbage off his clothes and made his way towards Ray’s house.

--

Ray’s face creased in sadness as he watched his mother gather her things. “Mama, do you have to go?”

“Sorry, sweetie, but you know Mama has to work.” Ray’s mother ruffled his hair gently. “I’ll be back late, so make sure you go to bed on time. Dinner is in the fridge; it just needs to be heated up in the microwave.” She smiled at him. “And you can even play that new video game I got you.”

“Okay…” Ray sighed, watching his mother leave. If there was one thing Ray hated the most, it was being lonely. And lately, he was lonely a lot. It was hard having a mom that worked three jobs; she was only ever home to get a few hours of sleep, make food for way, and leave again. The small family couldn’t afford a babysitter, so Ray found himself sitting in the living room by himself, watching TV or playing Halo. He didn’t blame his mother for his loneliness; she was doing her best.

A small knock on the door brought Ray to attention, and he looked out the window to see who it was. “Michael!” Ray’s eyes lit up as he opened the door, letting his curly-haired friend inside. “It’s getting dark! What are you doing out there?”

“I got in some trouble today,” he started. “But this weird kid named Ryan helped me. As soon as I turned around to thank him, he disappeared!” Michael threw his arms up in an exaggerated explosion-like motion. “He dragged me into a dumpster to hide, but now I smell really bad. But I  could be in trouble right now, so it’s not so bad.”

Ray giggled. “I’ll get you something that’s not stinky, okay? Turn on the Xbox and I’ll be right down!” Bolting into his room, he grabbed a plain black t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts before running back out to his friend, who was looking for the controllers. “I’ll find them,” Ray offered. “Go change before you make the whole living room smell bad!”

“Thanks!” Michael wandered off, leaving Ray to his thoughts for a moment. He knew that Michael didn’t go home anymore, and he knew why, but he wasn’t sure why Michael wouldn’t take his offer to stay at his house for even just one night. His mom wasn’t around enough to know, and even if she was, Ray knew she’d never kick him out.

He’d finished setting up the game by the time Michael came back out. “Okay, we’re gunna play Halo, okay?” And while he knew what the answer would be, he asked “Are you gunna stay here tonight? Mama won’t mind.”  

Michael shook his head. “I couldn’t do that. I’d be in the way.”

“No! Honest!” Ray kept pleading, unlike previous times, because he was tired of being lonely at night. “Just for one night! Please?”

When Michael finally mumbled an “okay”, Ray smiled. His friend was going to be safe, and he wasn’t going to be alone. What more could he ask for?

--

The new babysitter was boring, Gavin had decided, and he’d wasted no time in going into his room to hide for the rest of the night. It was like this every day; he’d stay home with his parents on days he didn’t have school and play in the playroom, but as soon as his parents left for parties or work, Gavin retreated to his room upstairs, choosing to read a book or sit on the windowsill.

The moonlight reflected beautifully on the dew-covered lawn, and the sparkling beauty forced a smile out of the British boy. I wish I had someone to play with, he thought with a sad hanging of his head. If I had a friend, we could go outside in the middle of the night and play torch tag or hide-and-seek… I wouldn’t even care about getting in trouble for being outside too late… The thoughts were wishful thinking, he’d decided. He went to public school, where lots of people had friends to play with, but most of the kids avoided him. Since Gavin’s parents were rich, he was seen as the snobby kid that as too good to play with them. If only they knew how wrong they were about him.

“Gavin! Dinner will be ready soon!”

“Okay,” he responded quietly. His dark thoughts reminded Gavin of why he sometimes hated himself. He knew he shouldn’t be complaining; he had a nice house, a warm bed, clean clothes, and a lot of food. A few of the kids he went to school with had nothing, had to live outside, or had to take care of themselves. He had people to take care of him, but it still wasn’t enough.

The short Brit headed downstairs, not hearing whatever his babysitter was saying to him, and went out to the back porch to glance at the moonlight. Looking up at the sky, he sighed. Will I ever find what I want? Am I selfish to think that I’m lonely, even when I have more than others?

“Gavin,” the female babysitter called. “You can daydream later. It’s time to eat.”

“All right.” Gavin glanced down as he headed inside, wondering if he’d ever get an answer. Righ now, it seemed very unlikely.

#ah ot6 #stray heart rewrite #platonic ah ot6 #stray heart #no one writes

[gaiatheorist]

Standards.

I started this one yesterday, inflamed by the Tim Lott article in The Guardian. My impression of the column was that he was suggesting that women created their own mental health issues, by virtue of being virtuous. Maybe I read it wrong, maybe, in my perilously precarious psychological state, I’m looking for issues that aren’t there. What do I know, I’m only a woman, with mental health issues. (No current formal diagnosis, I’m free-range mad.)

I am not a virtuous woman. I try to do the ‘right’ thing more often than the ‘wrong’ one, and, as much as I rant about amusingly disturbing revenge on the neighbours that steal my bin, I don’t actually intend them harm. The reason that I didn’t finish this yesterday was other people’s standards. The ex in-laws were collecting my son, to take him to his Dad’s for the weekend, and the house looked like it had been rolled down a hill, due to the kid being back from uni, and having no concept of putting things ‘away’. 

Domesticity isn’t my strongest suit, if I was a domestic Goddess, I’d be Kali, I’m barely house-trained, house-proud is an alien concept, but the in-laws look at me all disapproving if the house is untidy. (Manic urge to tell them to wait outside next time, I have a thundering headache from the Mother-in-law’s gallons of perfume, and the Father-in-law has a habit of picking up and inspecting things that don’t belong to him. The kid has given me very stern instructions NOT to ‘leave’ any sex-toys on top of the cupboard that the F-i-l likes to have a good old nosey at.) It’s me, it’s not them. Years of the ex telling me to ‘straighten up a bit before my Dad calls.’ resulted in resentment, because it was his mess I was expected to ‘straighten.’

His standards were embedded by being raised as the blue-eyed boy who could do no wrong. A mother and an older sister idolised him when he was young, then, when his mother died, his father married the ironing gremlin, with her three daughters, and equally spoiled, and much-longed-for son. They’re weird-to-me, with their shopping-trips, and flowers, and soap operas, and chocolate, a different kind of dysfunctional. I don’t suppose there’s anything really ‘wrong’ with them, on a cosmic scale, I was just a square peg, refusing to spin in their chosen direction to fit a hole I didn’t want to occupy. I was a feral thing, the ex sometimes said that the ‘spark’ in me reminded him of his Mother, which is way too Oedipal to unpick at half past two in the morning.

I was feral because I hadn’t really been ‘raised’ by my parents, Creepy Carpet Tile Man referred to me as “An experiment, to see how far a person could be pushed, and sill remain vaguely functional.”, he has a point. A brutal, awful, impoverished, abusive childhood, with two parents who were barely functional. If there had been some sort of test that people needed to pass before having children, my brother and I wouldn’t exist. I’m covered in scars from wounds that should have been stitched, but my Dad was ‘scared of hospitals’, and my brother had a minor obsession with setting things on fire, how the two of us made it to adulthood still astounds me. Dirty, scruffy, feral children, and I have no idea how that happened, because both sets of grandparents ‘kept a nice house.’  My parents muddled through, times have changed, and there’s no point at all using my now-knowledge to reflect on all the ‘missed opportunities’ for that scruffy little girl and boy, I’ll park all of that in the ‘shit that happened’ file.

Standards, in my early development, were essentially “Do as you’re told the first time, or you’ll get a crack.” There were lots of ‘cracks’, sometimes there would be an identifiable trigger, more often not, if there had been a lovingly hand-sewn cross-stitch thing above the fireplace, it wouldn’t have said “Home sweet home.”, it might have said “If you don’t stop crying, I’ll GIVE you something to cry about.”. Dad hit us because he was an unpredictable, egocentric alcoholic, Mum hit us because Dad hit her, and she’d never really wanted us in the first place, we just tethered her to him. No fancy finishing school for me, I sit with my knees together in public because I hate the thought of uninvited physical contact, and, if you put me in a fancy restaurant with more than one knife and fork, I wouldn’t know whether to start with the inside ones, or the outside. (It’s outside, isn’t it? It has to be, it doesn’t make sense the other way. I do, however, know which side to ‘serve’ from.)

Chaotic, dirty, and very often hungry, my mother lit endless cigarettes from the gas-fire, and my father had endless ridiculous ideas to make his fortune. (Hello, direct comparison to my ex, and his stupid, expensive ‘projects.’) It was our ‘normal’, all we’d ever known, we didn’t know that other people didn’t have a goat living in the house, we just accepted that there ‘was’ a goat. We didn’t know that other people’s Dads didn’t butcher pig-heads on the manky kitchen floor, with missing tiles, and no doors on the cupboards. (I still have the scar from that, it was the only way I could tell left from right, I’ve always been a bit odd with directions.) Dirt-poor, too poor for cheesy chips in front of the TV, Jamie Oliver. Our ‘standard’ life quite frequently involved our mother, covered in tears, and snot, sometimes blood, dragging us out of bed in the middle of the night, putting our coats on over our pyjamas, and driving us to a friend’s house, ‘leaving that bastard’ again. She always reneged, and brought us back after a couple of days, though. 

I was 7, and my brother 5 when she did it properly. I’ve never asked her what the catalyst was, I always assumed it was just the cumulative toll. “More power to you.” was a line she threw me in a text-message conversation the other day, in some ways we’re similar, but not very many. She made an appalling decision in the direction she moved us in, again, I’ll file that under ‘shit that happened’, and move on. She would have been 28, so I’ll give her the points for ‘getting out’ of the abusive marriage at a younger age than I did mine, but I’ll take them away again, because she went on to marry another violent alcoholic. (I’m not awarding myself any points for staying married to an emotionally controlling, coercive egotist for nearly 20 years.)

The point of re-telling all that seemingly disjointed history does loop-around to standards. She moved us away from my father before he killed her, or one of us, she worked, and paid the mortgage on a crappy house on a rough estate, we had food in the cupboards consistently. It was shit food, and she was a terrible cook, the St Ivel Gold margarine, and the frozen curry sauce microwaved on the pickings from the Sunday lunch triggered my ‘Eating disorder not otherwise specified.’ I had no control whatsoever over any aspect of my life, so I’d periodically stop eating. Nobody noticed my little rebellions of pushing the food around my plate, and not actually putting any of it in my mouth, because we ate in front of the TV. It was never a body-image thing, it was the mid 1980s, all that malarkey hadn’t been given a name yet, it was just me controlling the only thing I could. I buggered up my appetite with that, I’ll still go days without eating at all, and I can’t stand cheap-bland food, it tastes of ‘what happened to me.’ 

Major, major issues with, and around food. The last two tabs open in my browser are Jack Monroe’s ‘Bootstrap Cook’ site, and a Google search on recipes for lobster. I know, right? Looking up 20p meals on one tab, and lobster on another. I ‘fell into’ Jack’s website quite badly yesterday, because I needed something to focus on, distract-deflect, it’s what I do. Food seemed like a relatively safe rabbit-hole for me to stick my loopy head into, and distract myself from the imminent in-laws applying their standards to a life that’s none of their business. (Side-loop, they’re prolific ‘feeders’, the father-in-law likes fat women, and the mother-in-law likes making people fat. I’m not quite “All elbows and Adam’s apple.” emaciated, like I was a couple of years ago, but I cover myself in baggy clothes, I’m like a train-wreck that’s collided with a jumble sale.) The ex didn’t like cheap food, his family aren’t exceptionally wealthy, but there was always ‘good’ food, and plenty of it. The ex was spoiled, if he didn’t fancy what his step-mum put on his plate, he’d ask for something else, and she’d make it. He thought that was normal behaviour, “I’m sorry, love, I can’t eat this, is there anything else?” I’m having a BFG-moment here, the BFG explaining to Sophie that “There is no ‘else’.” 

I’m unemployed, and disabled. There’s a frozen lobster thawing in my fridge. Have that, Jamie Oliver and crew, with your ‘poor people eat rubbish.’ theory, the kid and I are having lobster tomorrow. Stand down with the soap-boxes, I was working when I bought it. The juxtaposition of 20p meals, and suggestions for lobster would have amused me more if I wasn’t looking at the “This woman has tattoos, and mirrored kitchen tiles.” article. Other people’s standards, yet again, it’s a good thing it’s an old blog, because I’m pure outraged at some numpty commenting “Economy brand food is not nutritious.” They’re missing the point entirely, tinned pulses and frozen veg are probably more nutritious than fancy-flouncy ready-meals. Yes, there is some skills-gap, where people who were not ‘taught’ to cook-from-scratch will see own-brand chicken nuggets for 69p as a less contentious meal-choice for children than explaining what all the ‘bits’ are in something cobbled together from tins. Nobody ‘taught’ me to cook, my mother was a disaster in the kitchen, and my only concrete memories of Home Economics lessons at school are how to rescue a sponge-cake mix if you add the eggs too quickly, and carrying a Roses chocolate tin full of slightly warm chilli the mile home from school. 

Standards. I’ve stopped buying the ‘emergency’ £1 ready-meals, for the days when my cognitive fatigue makes sharp-knives-and-hot-pans a dangerous activity. That’s partly because £1 for a single serving isn’t affordable on Universal Credit, I was splitting the single meal across two meal-times. It’s more because they’re not ‘really’ food, the stress of the last year has massively flared my digestive issues, and the value-range ready meals invariably contain either wheat-gluten to thicken them, or artificial sweeteners, both of which have undesirable outcomes for me. Far-away trolls and commenters, telling poor people that a bag of carrots is 50p have different standards. I’ve siege-mentality stocked my cupboards and freezer, because I won’t be able to afford groceries soon. My work-coach has started offering me food bank vouchers, which I’ve declined, because I still have food in the house, some of the new Universal Credit claimants won’t have had time to stock up.

Gods, I went the long way around that, didn’t I? Everyone has their own ‘normal’, their own ‘standards’, and Tim Lott’s column, saying that women might have fewer mental health issues if they lowered their standards irritated me. They’re not ‘our’ standards, Tim. They’re the standards imposed on us by others. Most of us don’t want to spend hours making ourselves ‘presentable’ in line with whatever the glossy magazines tell us is aesthetically acceptable this month, some choose to, and that’s their business, not mine. I don’t think any of us enjoy ironing clothes for other people, or cleaning yet more piss off the toilet. We don’t do these things because we want to, we do them because nobody else does, and we can’t inhabit environments that hover between ‘Men Behaving Badly’ and ‘Bottom’. Asserting that ‘women’ might be happier if they didn’t expend energy being ‘nice’, or ‘good’ enraged me, because we’re expected to be both of those, continually, and unconditionally. Good-wives. 

My ex had standards that he expected the pixies to maintain. He’d stuff his rancid worn socks down the arm of the sofa, and then buy new socks when he couldn’t find any clean ones. (In his SOCK DRAWER.) He’d leave used crockery all over the house, and then suggest I ‘have a quick run around with the Hoover’, because he was expecting visitors, and the house was covered in toast-crumbs and dog-hair. I put up with that for far too long, and, when I started to challenge him on it, he’d reply “Yeah, in a minute, I’m just watching this.” His parents embedded that in him, that he could do as he pleased, and somebody else would pick up after him, they skewed their standards of acceptable ‘house-keeping’ onto me. I was ill yesterday, because I knew that they were coming, and that if they realised that I wasn’t coping, they’d judge my competency at dusting, rather than my disabilities, due to me being ‘female.’ I’m still not free of their expectations, and they’re nothing to do with me, I can’t ‘just leave it’, because they’ll see the mess, and want to help, I don’t want them anywhere near me, so I tidy to give them the impression that I’m managing.

I’ve had contact with my various parents and step-parents recently. My step-mother is a mouse of a thing, terrified of my father. My mother looks at my step-father before she speaks, as if asking permission, she has to iron his clothes just-so, and made reference to an argument they’d had recently, where he’d burned his arm on the iron after she refused to do it for him. She was messaging me as she was ironing. We’re extreme examples, I know, but the assertion that ‘women’ would be in better mental health if we stopped being ‘good’ or ‘nice’, stopped caring doesn’t work. We’re still being conditioned to care. By other people’s standards.   

[alamante]

These thoughts have not been generated by an algorithm or crowdsourced on Twitter. They are the accumulated wisdom of a middle-aged man in Japan.

A middle-aged man who’s available for rent.

Wearing a shirt with a miniature panda bear print and smiling inscrutably, Ken Sasaki, 48, has a vibe that is anything but that of a disgruntled middle-aged Tokyo man.

With gray hair, visible lines on his face and loss of youthful slimness, he is more like a free-spirited bohemian in a strange disguise.

Throughout an hourlong Skype interview, in which comments are tediously ferried back and forth through an interpreter, his energy and enthusiasm never flag, and his answers grow more expressive and thoughtful with each question.

It’s all part of his job as a rented “ossan,” the Japanese word for a middle-aged man.

He allows himself to be hired by anyone, for nearly any purpose — not involving physical contact — as long as they pay his hourly wage: a mere 1,000 yen (about US $9). And he loves it.

REGAINING HONOR

As in many cities around the globe, most people in Tokyo prefer anonymity when it comes to their wants, needs and vulnerabilities.

Urban citizens may be desperate to get advice from an older, wiser person, but they don’t want to turn to the guy they’ve worked with for years or the uncle who remembers the tears shed over a broken toy truck. Someone familiar might judge them.

It’s much better to pour your woes into a stranger’s ear, grab the good advice and run … or so goes the logic of Takanobu Nishimoto, 50, who founded an online Ossan Rental service in 2012.

Renting a stranger for advice and meeting in, say, a cafe means you will never have to meet again, he said: “Stories will spread if clients talk to someone they know.”

This is where men like Sasaki come in, lending an ear to strangers while renewing their own value in society.

Nishimoto’s inspiration came when he overheard “high school girls making fun of middle-aged men on the commuter train,” particularly their hairy ears, and calling the men “smelly” and “dirty.”

Previously admired in a male-dominated Japanese society, ossan are now struggling to maintain a positive reputation in the fast-changing culture where values are in flux.

“I never realized that ossan were disrespected that much,” Nishimoto said. “I thought, ‘I need to regain the honor of ossan.’ “

CHANGING IDEALS OF MASCULINITY

After Japan’s defeat in World War II, “militarized masculinity,” in which an officer was seen as a key version of virility, essentially came to an end, said Sabine Fruhstuck, director of the East Asia Center and a professor of modern Japanese cultural studies at the University of California, Santa Barbara.

“During the postwar decades, a new ideal of masculinity emerged, primarily embodied in the white-collar salaryman (essentially, a middle-class business man type),” Fruhstuck wrote in an email.

The dominant ideal of masculinity became a man with a “good income, clean office work, willing to sacrifice himself more or less for a company, married, with two children,” she added.

Yet even that ideal soon ended.

Many middle-aged men became jobless amid economic troubles in 1989, and a new class of predominantly male freelance workers (known as “freeters” in Japan) emerged in an economy further battered by the 2008 financial crisis and the Fukushima disaster in March 2011.

Freeters work short-term or part-time positions in a variety of businesses, including IT, marketing, retail and restaurants.

“During the last couple of decades, particularly, middle-aged middle-class men have lost a lot of their cultural power,” Fruhstuck said. “In popular media, they are often cast as backward, stodgy, uninteresting.”

But the cultural power vacuum has not been an opportunity for women either, as male-dominated institutions continue to discourage them from entering leadership positions, Fruhstuck said.

Ultimately, she believes that Nishimoto’s sense of lost honor is not imaginary, but whether his rental business can restore the reputation of middle-aged men is another matter.

A STARTUP IS BORN

Though it started slow, his website has roughly 45 ossan rentals a day now, or 10,000 encounters per year, said Nishimoto, who works as a fashion adviser and stylist when not monitoring his ossan.

His website boasts almost 80 “uncles” in 36 cities, including Nishimoto’s base of Tokyo, as well as Kyoto, Osaka and Tokushima. The mentors’ past and present occupations include engineer, tour operator, financier, real estate and insurance entrepreneur, marketing and HR manager, driver, and a research and development scientist who now runs a technical consultancy company.

Nishimoto says he himself has met or been rented by roughly 5,000 clients since founding the service.

The token payment is just that: a symbolic gesture that helps both the clients and uncles respect the transaction. “Existence of the payment makes us do it properly,” he said.

Recruiting ossan is a breeze, with Nishimoto getting at least 10 inquiries a week from wannabe professional uncles. He guesses that about 10,000 men have applied for the job, though only 78 currently fill the role.

When choosing an ossan, Nishimoto prefers “weird” men with obvious disadvantages, “men outside the spotlight.” Some applicants get crossed off the list immediately, such as those with “shady desires.”

“It would be better to have only good-looking men,” he conceded, as they would naturally attract more customers, but that would bore him. Besides, the more popular ossan are gentle-looking men who are good at listening, he finds. Divorcees and those who have gone through a tough time and come out the other side are also well-liked. “They can listen, understand another’s pain,” Nishimoto said.

Apparently, many clients are in psychological pain: About 70% use the service for consultations or talking, Nishimoto said, while the other 30% request “manual” help, such as lifting boxes.

When he started, expected that the bulk of his clients would be “gentle, obedient Japanese boys” needing advice from “older, more experienced men.”

“The young men did not come,” he said. Instead, eight times out of 10, clients are women, Nishimoto said.

There’s a branch of the ossan rental service to fulfill immediate requests, he said, since many customers want to talk “now”: “Her husband cheated on her; she had a quarrel; she’s being harassed at work.”

However, Nishimoto does not permit chat sessions or phone calls. He likes the “very analog” quality of an in-person meetup that makes people “a bit nervous.”

“You arrive at the location and look for who is coming to meet you,” he said, describing it as an exhilarating experience.

‘LIGHT-HEARTED’

An international Skype session — an exception to the rule of in-person meetings — with Sasaki reveals his Fukushima birth and life in central Tokyo, where he works at a web technology company that provides platform services, including gaming and dealing cryptocurrency.

He’s played violin for 30 years, taking it more seriously while at university. His favorite composers are Shostakovich, Bruckner, Sibelius and Beethoven. “You don’t have to think a lot to play Beethoven’s music; you can play nonchalantly in an entertaining way,” he said.

“Forty percent of my ossan rental clients want something to do with the violin,” Sasaki said. “Another 40% are questions about IT work, and the other 20% are asking advice for their lives. These are mainly younger people.

“My profile on the ossan rental website has a very light-hearted atmosphere,” he said. Though he notes his occupation in IT, he bills himself as someone who plays the violin and shogi, or Japanese chess.

BIZARRE BOOKINGS

Usually, Sasaki is rented out just once a week for variable amounts of time, less than other uncles, but some of his assignments tend toward the bizarre.

Once, he was invited to play violin for just five minutes at the birthday party of a teenage girl “who is crazily fascinated by Korean pop stars,” he said. There were only two other girls there, “and they were saying ‘please, please, please, sir.’ ”

They wanted him to wear the mask of a Korean pop star whose name was unfamiliar to Sasaki. Dutifully, he put it on and played his violin.

The entire time, the birthday girl kept “shouting the star’s name at me — a totally disguised man,” he said. “I found it strange, but that was their request.” The three girls were so fascinated with Korean pop stars that he, in turn, became fascinated by them and curious about the meaning of their obsession.

Another request came from a woman in her 50s who asked him to accompany her to her dance recital. The woman, who studied tango and waltz, didn’t have friends or colleagues to attend, so she hired Sasaki to cheer her on.

One man who played shogi online requested that Sasaki meet him at the chess center to play, an experience the man found awkward to do alone because of a disability.

“I have to use my brain quite a lot to deal with these requests,” Sasaki said, “and there’s a lot of interesting encounters, and these encounters give me inspiration.” The meetings with clients widen his horizons, he said, and inspire his violin playing.

Yet, not all encounters provide fruitful motivation, he said. There was an invitation to play violin at a New Year’s Eve party attended exclusively by women who were all nursery school teachers. Though some were “beautiful,” Sasaki said, “their conversation was like a Japanese version of ‘Sex and the City’ — very open. And I was the only man there, playing my violin.”

‘PEOPLE IN THE SHADOWS’

Nishimoto said there’s a strict “no-touching” policy with his clients, and ossan are not intended to be rented out for intimate purposes.

Looking carefully at the website, researcher Fruhstuck is not so sure.

“Some men are featured as ‘new products.’ Each is described with bodily measurements, date of birth and what they offer (mostly conversation, drinking together, etc.),” she said, adding that Nishimoto has even written a romantic advice column.

“All of this indicates to me that this is likely a casual dating site without saying so,” she said, adding that “sex and romance” could be an “expectation on all sides involved.”

“If so, that would simply be yet another variation of a range of such services in Japan that include hostess clubs, host clubs … and similar businesses that provide conversation, flirtation and, possibly, romance and sex,” Fruhstuck said.

“Perhaps there are really people who rent middle-aged men just for consultations and lifting boxes. Who knows? I bet most people would find it creepy to email a random guy on some website to come help them.” However, similar assistant services exist in the United States.

But Nishimoto doubts ossan rental would be popular in other countries, because he hears that “middle-aged men and father figures are still valued in other countries.” In Japan, that’s not the case, he said, based in part on the fact that clients have rented him to play a father’s role — despite their real fathers being alive and well.

Fruhstuck agrees that middle-aged Japanese men have experienced a “downfall” in terms of societal respect.

Sasaki hopes ossan rental services will spread and include obasan, middle-aged women. This would make the world “a fun place,” he said.

Like Nishimoto, Sasaki believes that the general impression of middle-aged men in Japan is “not good compared to other countries.” They are “people in the shadows.”

“The old community has been destroyed,” Sasaki said. The kind of community once found in schools or companies no longer exists, “and a lot of people are finding they don’t belong anywhere and they have no place to ask for help or advice.”

Nishimoto believes the ossan rental service became popular because it makes people wonder: Why are middle-aged men available for rent? This, he believes, becomes a subtle way to raise their value.

Fruhstuck, though, takes a dim view of ossan rental as a means of increasing respect: “I’d doubt that this is of benefit to anybody [other] than the individuals directly involved.”

Source link

   The post Middle-aged men for rent in Japan appeared first on MySourceSpot.

#News