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dustedmagazine · 2 years

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Dusted Midyear Round-Up Part 1: Big Thief to Robbie Lee and Lea Bertucci

Jake Xerxes Fussell

The year is half over, so it’s time once again to highlight great music. As in previous years at Dusted, we do this by each nominating two favorites from the first six months, then forcing our fellow writers to listen to and write about them. It’s a great exercise, one that more than a few of our contributors say is their favorite part of our website, but not without risk. This year, we had, perhaps, a higher number than usual of writers who didn’t love their assignments, though most tried to find an angle or aspect to appreciate. That’s as it should be. We prize strong opinions almost as much as we encourage open-mindedness. Not every adventure turns out the way you’d like.

Our midyear is made up of ten writers’ top two records, so, as usual, passion wins out over consensus. In our lists, which will run the last day of the series, you’ll find that a few albums popped up again and again but weren’t actually anyone’s absolute favorites. Cate Le Bon made a very strong showing, turning up on five writers’ lists. Oneida, whose album Success won’t be out until August, also did very well with four listings. Outside that pair, it was mostly a matter of ones and twos. We like different stuff. We always have. (Except for that one year where pretty much everyone liked Heron Oblivion a whole lot.) We hope you’ll find something to like, too.

With that, we present the first half of our midyear selections, running from Big Thief to Robbie Lee and Lea Bertucci. Stay tuned for the second half of the alphabet tomorrow and our collection of writers’ lists the day after that.

Big Thief — Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You (4AD)

Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You by Big Thief

Who picked it? Tim Clarke

Did we review it? Yes, Tim wrote, “Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You deftly touches down in the band’s usual folk-rock territory, while also exploring a new terrain of sounds and production styles that broaden their musical palette.”

Derek’s take:

Twenty-first century, Brooklyn-by-way-of-Boston, studio-sired folk rock with beats. Not my customary wheelhouse or even sailing vessel. The Berklee College of Music pedigree of all four core members of Big Thief comes across in both their songcraft and collective courage to go shambolic and abstruse when the whim takes them. More flirtations with dissonance and the prickly pear fretwork that flavors tunes like “Time Escaping” and “Love Love Love,” and “Blue Lightning,” the last a tambourine-stamped, countrified shuffle, would be welcome, but on the midpoint “Flower of Blood” focus cants epically to fiercely ferrous, melismatic guitar rock. Fiddle, Jew’s harp, pedal steel, flute, accordion, and piano from esteemed guests enter the equations on occasion, accenting frontwoman Adrianne Lenker’s earnest and metaphor-friendly lyrics/vocals that reliably capture the shifting topical center(s). Feeling like the listener equivalent of a landlubber castaway isn’t so disconcerting when the far-ranging voyage in question comes equipped with such seasickness-alleviating trappings.

Derek Taylor

Michael Bisio Quartet — MBefore (Tao Forms)

MBefore by Michael Bisio Quartet

Who Picked it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? No.

Bryon Hayes’ take:

Mr. Taylor knows his jazz, so it’s no surprise that he chose a gem with this mid-year pick. MBefore is the sound of four veteran composers and improvisors coming together as one unit with a singular mission. The performers make this fact known early on. The quartet features some should-be-marquee names. Bassist Bisio and skin wrangler Whit Dickey are current (Bisio) and former (Dickey) collaborators with Matthew Shipp. The 87-year-old Karl Berger is a founder of the Creative Music Studio and has performed and recorded alongside a number of jazz legends. Mat Maneri is one of the most unique voices in jazz today, wielding his viola as if it’s a horn. Yes, this is quite the interesting arrangement of instruments. Maneri and Berger, here playing vibraphone, are ostensibly the front line, yet the quartet is so in sync that there’s no discernable rhythm section. Equally matched, the players create the perfect storm of sound. Furthermore, MBefore is a pleasurable listen and a record that you don’t need to be among the jazz cognoscenti to appreciate. Swell pick, Derek.

Black Fucking Cancer — Procreate Inverse (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

Procreate Inverse by BLACK FUCKING CANCER

Who picked it? Jonathan Shaw

Did we review it? Yes, Jonathan wrote, “Truth be told, even in the absence of ironies, Black Fucking Cancer’s music is still decidedly loathsome. Likely the band wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Jennifer Kelly’s take:

If I’m reading Jon’s review right, Procreate Inverse is meant to be offputting, universally so, but perhaps, especially to black metal neophytes like, well, like yours truly. And indeed, Black Fucking Cancer spews forth a firehose of violent sound, initially disorienting and always confrontational. The opener “Excurses” is hard, at first, to make any sense of, collapsing as it does into a black hole of frenetic noise, its ratcheting assaults of drum and guitar giving way, at intervals, to raw-throated roars. And yet, there’s structure here under the mayhem. The guitar riffs run at unfathomable speed and volume, yet they are synced precisely with the machine-gun roar of drums. The stops and starts are clean. This is a band, as Jon noted, that can go long, as in the title track, without getting lost, that can build satanic cathedrals of epic sound without sounding parodic, that can even slip in an opera choir without risking silliness. I will never get used to the metal voice and am not really a convert, but I can see how a person accustomed to this level of stimulus would have trouble listening to anything else. Astonishingly intense, sometimes painful, but worth hearing.

Broadcast — Maida Vale Sessions (Warp)

Maida Vale Sessions by Broadcast

Who recommended it? Ian Mathers

Did we review it? No, but we talked about it at length:

Bill Meyer’s take:

I sat out the Listening Post in which other Dusted writers discussed the recently released archival trove by Broadcast for two reasons: I was in the middle of a deadline clusterfuck, trying to meet obligations to other publications; and I had not previously found my way into Broadcast’s music. When Ian Mathers wrote about people who dismissed Broadcast as “kind of like Stereolab,” he was referring to people like me, and I just wasn’t in a hurry to give them another go. Ian also opined that such people were missing something, and now that I have given the band one more listen, I have to agree with him. While Broadcast and Stereolab shared a penchant for combining breezy 1960s pop with contemporaneous experimental sounds, this collection of BBC sessions captures some key differences. Broadcast’s rhythmic template is more girl group than motorik, and the songs feel more personal and specific than Stereolab’s politically motivated commentary. Bolstered by live in the studio punch, Maida Vale Sessions invites the listener to appreciate early Broadcast’s solidity as a sort of postmodern groovy combo. I’m not sure if I really get it, but I’ve at least advanced to the point where I don’t mind it.

Cloakroom — Dissolution Wave (Relapse)

Dissolution Wave by Cloakroom

Who picked it? Ian Mathers

Did we review it? Yes, Ian wrote, “As much as this album is about writing songs on an asteroid at night, and as much as you can relate that to current events (none of us truly knowing how much our actions are protecting or not those around us), it’s equally about life before and beyond COVID, all of us putting out what we can humming into the ether, trying to connect and sustain.”

Ray Garraty’s take:

This is one of those concept albums you’d never guess has a concept until the one-sheet tells you so. The concept is pretty intriguing: “…the dissolution wave—wipes out all of humanity’s existing art and abstract thought. In order to keep the world spinning on its axis, songsmiths must fill the ether with their compositions.” If all art is wiped out, and a host of new creations are needed, you’d expect something groundbreaking to fill the void. Unfortunately, we have been fooled: Cloakroom serves us a dish that is past its expiration date. It’s the same shoegaze- y shoegaze, with extra portions of doze, that has continued to appear despite a time of death pronounced in early 1990s. On tracks like “Lambspring” and “Dissembler,” Cloakroom switches to a fuzzier, punchier sound, and it kinda works. Then the vocalist opens his mouth, pouring too much sweet stuff over the gutsy guitars. If there were no alternative, we’d take Cloakroom’s songs in the bleak future they project. On our present planet Earth, we better wait for something more original.

Andrew Cyrille, William Parker and Enrico Rava — 2 Blues for Cecil (TUM)

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Who picked it? Derek Taylor.

Did we review it? Yes, Derek wrote, “Taylor tributes may be plentiful, but this one’s place at the peak of the collective edifice feels unassailable.”

Tim Clarke’s take:

Aside from bassist William Parker, I’m familiar with neither the music of these players, nor of the pianist to whom this album is dedicated. As a result I find it hard to gain a foothold during long stretches of this album in which the loose, tumbling playing of drummer Andrew Cyrille rarely locks into anything resembling a conventional beat. Flugelhorn player Enrico Rava offers delicate, plaintive and melodious lines when playing slowly; that’s when I find myself most engaged, able to follow the music’s internal logic. When the trio plays fast and loose I struggle to keep up; I find myself distracted by memories of an episode of The Mighty Boosh in which Howard Moon is possessed by the Spirit of Jazz and showboats over his bandmate’s electro-pop project with rapid-fire blowing. There’s no showboating on 2 Blues for Cecil — the playing is poised and often very beautiful — but it talks a language I find it difficult to relate to.

Destroyer – Labyrinthitis (Merge)

LABYRINTHITIS by Destroyer

Who picked it? Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? No, but Jen did a long interview for another publication.

Derek Taylor’s take:

An admirable amount of loose irony exists in a band called Destroyer birthing and releasing their 13th record. A point is perhaps that destruction and creation are not particularly distant endeavors when one owns the object acted upon. Being unfamiliar with the earlier dozen discographical entries, and bandleader Dan Bejar’s other projects, I can’t say with certainty. What Labyrinthitis does do is cram a startling, stimulating amount of information and intimation of assorted antecedents into a beats-buoyed odyssey across ten pulsating, perambulating tracks. Bowie (“It’s in Your Heart Now,” and “The Last Song”), New Order (“Suffer,” “All My Pretty Dresses,” and “The States”), Frankie Goes to Hollywood (“Eat the Wine, Drink the Bread”) - filaments of each bubble up and recede in the swirling, synthesizer-layered edifices. It’s all mostly adjacent my comfort zone(s), and Bejar’s lyrics remain Delphic in all but their diction, but there’s no denying the extent of artistic openness brought to bear in authorship and execution.

Jake Xerxes Fussell — Good and Green Again (Paradise of Bachelors)

Good and Green Again by Jake Xerxes Fussell

Who picked it? Bill Meyer, for one

Did we review it? Yes. Justin Cober-Lake said, “As Fussell finds new ways to explore old music, the arrangements and production provide a few more tools in his craft.”

Patrick Masterson’s take:

Jake Xerxes Fussell’s pedigree as the son of a folklorist is by now well known to any veteran members of the Dusted readership; after all, we’ve been tracking his work right from the jump. But after three records mining Americana’s past, the Columbus, Georgia, native opted to tweak the approach on Good and Green Again by including some originals, too (the spare “Washington” and three instrumentals deployed to great effect: “Frolic,” “What Did the Hen Duck Say to the Drake?” and “In Florida”). Such is his ability to arc source material to suit his style and vision, however, that if I hadn’t told you as much, it’s unlikely you would’ve even thought to ask. Featuring an accomplished cast of support players flavoring songs with instruments including the French horn, vibraphone and assorted strings, the album burns slow like a revelation, the heralding of new life, the dawn of farewell loves found anew. It’s a record that lives up to its title. You can feel the grass growing just that little bit brighter below you when you listen. I don’t know how much good is left in the world at this point, but this album makes you want to believe there’s still time for so much more to show itself.

Kids on a Crime Spree — Fall in Love Not in Line (Slumberland Records)

Fall In Love Not In Line by Kids On A Crime Spree

Who picked it? Andrew Forell

Did we review it? Nope

Jonathan Shaw’s take:

“Karl Kardel Building” is the opening track of Fall in Love Not in Line, and it’s sublime. Plenty of other bands have done the mid-60s-pop, Wall-of-Sound-pastiche thing, to varying effects (the Fresh and Onlys made some great tunes; Dum Dum Girls made some money…). Few have captured the chaotic joys of 7” singles that big and boisterous; and it’s possible that the attendant wide-eyed astonishment at the wonders pop music can work is now entirely lost to us. Kids on a Crime Spree recover what they can, and “Karl Kardel Building” evokes shivery delight. There’s something else that the band seems to understand about those Phil Spector epics: the dangerous vibe of sex and violence that bubbled and steamed under all the multitracking and reverb. On “Vital Points,” Mario Hernandez sings, “I want to piss on the public opinion / I want to piss on a police car,” the casual threats fizzing away alongside the song’s multiple hooks. The whole thing smolders. Even more effective are the aching, plaintive proclamations of infatuation in “When Can I See You Again?” The guitars growl, recalling Poison Ivy’s imperious sneer and psychobilly riffs. But Hernandez is more interested in desperation: “When can I see you, before our world ends?” Love’s stakes are always high — so imagine being a lovelorn kid now, among the pandemic and climate change and the bristling AR-15s. Pastiche always incorporates ironic distance from its materials and its world. The best songs by Kids on a Crime Spree counteract the ironizing; they make you feel like a teenager holding a transistor radio close, tuning in through all the static, hoping to hear that song again.

Robbie Lee & Lea Bertucci — Winds Bells Falls (Telegraph Harp)

Winds Bells Falls by Robbie Lee & Lea Bertucci

Who picked it? Bryon Hayes

Did we review it? Yes, Bryon said, “Winds Bells Falls is a universe in miniature, one where time is encouraged to fold back onto itself and reveal the stunning imagery that arises.”

Jennifer Kelly’s take:

Bell sounds glisten in “Glitter and Gleam,” at first in a light patter of sounds, later in a glowing striation of diverse tones, some like glockenspiel, others deeper and woodier like a marimba. The sounds are courtesy of archaic instrument experimenter Robbie Lee, but the way they twist and shift and morph on and off key comes from Lea Bertucci’s electronic wizardry. The two artists work together to look at unusual sounds through a funhouse mirror, in way that is sometimes abstract and cerebral, but frequently beautiful. I like the bell songs best, but there are other textures woven together in sound collage, the owlish hoots of obscure woodwinds of “Division Music,” massed into multilayered sculptures of avian sounds, the pensive keyboards of “Twine and Tape,” sinking gently into a time-warp, the woozy scrawl of “Azimuth”’s clarinet-ish sounds, mostly air with a little vibrating tone at the bottom. The album has the aura of a magic forest, draped in moss and old vines, a bit foreboding, but with intervals of gorgeous clarity interspersed.

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laineystein · 3 years

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“This is new.”

The Boy™️ and I went out for his birthday on Thursday night. His favorite restaurant happens to be close to where we both grew up so we drove through the same neighborhoods that raised us - streets we walked to get to school or back and forth from the houses we grew up in. Of course, we ran into three separate people we knew. This seems to be a trend lately. It’s like our past, every little detail we’ve been so good at keeping hidden, keeps rearing its head, demanding to be dealt with. One of the people we ran into was a teacher we both had in yeshiva and they commented “oh, this is new!” And we both smiled and laughed and wished them a good shabbat. We didn’t talk about it then but we spent Shabbos together – alone – and we spent most of the night unpacking all of it.

This wasn’t the first time we’d heard it. It’s all anyone seems to say lately. When I had a ride to the airport at 4am and my mother strong-armed me into admitting who it was she said “oh, that’s new”. When his Modox parents were a bit passive-agressive toward me earlier in the summer because suddenly I was *everywhere*, I finally got his mother to admit that she worried about our relationship simply because it “came out of nowhere”…because “it’s new” and a lot of our “decisions seem impulsive.”

No. This isn’t new. We’re not new. Our relationship is 15 years old. This has been a thing - many things, actually - for a decade and a half. I have been in love with this man for half of my life but to the world, even the people we love the most, yes - this is new. And I can’t argue with them. We don’t. We have no idea how to handle this.

We were fifteen and sixteen. Simply put - being a teenager means being young and dumb and somehow being terrified and craving happiness in equal amounts. He was (is) my best friend’s brother and they’re extremely close. On top of that, he’s Modox and I wasn’t and am not. His family never treated me differently, even when other families did - especially early on at yeshiva when it was very clear that I was raised differently than most of my classmates. But I loved them and they loved me. They loved me as their daughter’s best friend. It didn’t make sense to explain that I was more than that with their son - especially because we didn’t know what that was.

We were teenagers! We were intense and fearless and manic and we were absolutely terrified of letting anyone down. We’re both the first born in our immigrant Jewish families. There has always been so much pressure on each of us to be the best - the smartest, the most hardworking. For him - the most devout. We both had to marry well and have big Jewish families. We were the product of generations of trauma - children and grandchildren of families that had consistently escaped persecution and now we were seemingly well adjusted teenagers in America, finally free to live the lives everyone who came before us fought so hard for. It was a lot of pressure, all the time. But together? No pressure. The things I struggled to tell his sister - how much I hated my yeshiva uniform, how marriage and children weren’t in the forefront of my mind yet…everything I couldn’t tell anyone else in the world, I told The Boy™️.

That’s where the name comes from - and those of you who used to follow my studyblr know I talked about him often. I never talked about him by name. His sister always thought I had someone in Israel that I had this big crush on. And I did. When he was in Israel with me I had a huge crush on him. But I loved him in Brooklyn too. I loved him when we traveled to France and Amsterdam and Italy. I spent four out of my five IDF civilians (time off from the military) with him and no one knew. We have lived so many lives together. We’ve experienced so many things, side by side, and no one had any clue. And we watched each other love other people and try to make it work with people that weren’t us. But ultimately he was the one who helped me through breakups and med school. He was the person that literally saved my life in 2020 when my shifts at the hospital during COVID had me so mentally and physically exhausted that I could barely get out of bed…literally. Then when things calmed down I realized, it didn’t matter what was going on in the world, he’s always been my biggest supporter and I cannot and will not live without him and the fact that we weren’t sharing this thing that made us both so undeniably happy just felt ridiculous and unfair.

But we didn’t know how to even explain everything so we kind of…didn’t? It was never “this is my best friend and we’re in love” it was “I’m going to Israel and he’s coming too”. We alternated Shabbos between his parents’ house and mine. All the while everyone is hesitant, almost nervous - this is new, this is new, this is new. It’s not new. But this is the first time we’re admitting how we feel and what we are to the people we love. He’s not just my friend’s brother. He’s not even just my best friend or my boyfriend. He’s the man I want to marry and have a family with. I get why our families are so confused. They have no idea all we’ve done and how so many of the things they celebrate in us - our jobs, our successes, our faith - is because of the other.

So we have to start being honest. They’ll never truly get it if they can’t see how deep it is, if they can’t acknowledge the history. But how do we explain it? We are who we are because once upon a time we were both really struggling with our faith. We thought we were terrible Jews because we didn’t want the things our parents wanted. I didn’t believe in tzniut. Some days he didn’t either. We were doing things we were told kids in yeshiva don’t do! We were having sex and smoking weed and going to bars in the city because we could. But it wasn’t about being a part of the goy world. We didn’t want that. We just wanted to be who we were in the Jewish world and we had no idea how to do that. For so long it felt like it was us against the world - Jewish and gentle. We didn’t fit in with either but we could be who we wanted to be, together, in this weird in-between. He’s safety. He always has been. When I have a thought and I know no one in the world will understand it, I know he’s the exception. We always felt like we were judged, even inadvertently by people who swore they were being open minded and supportive, but together that was never a worry. So how do we explain that?

We don’t. We won’t. We need to be honest about some things: about how far our friendship goes back, about the depth of it - then and now. Everyone else is free to make their own assumptions. They can draw their own conclusions or they can just learn to accept us as we are now. The weird part is that everyone has been much more accepting than we imagined - especially his sister. She loves our relationship so much, to the point that we feel bad for keeping it from her for so long. But we don’t know if we’d be who we are now if we hadn’t lived this other life together. We weren’t wrong. Having this one thing in life that is untouched by the world was magical. We still have days where we miss it, especially now as questions of marriage and children flood in. But we’ve agreed that we’ll be honest with our children. All of it.

I guess a lot of this for us wasn’t just about *us* but about who each of us are as people. We’ve always worn so many labels. We’re completely opposites but we have fundamental similarities. We both love being Jewish. We’re loud and proud, unapologetic Jews. But we weren’t always! And the secret nature of our relationship aside, that’s what’s the most difficult for us to acknowledge publicly - myself in particular. I get a lot of that - often from many of you. I am so so honored that where I am with my faith today, at 31, is something so many of you admire. I can’t even begin to explain to you how much that means to me. But I guess it’s important to note that this was a journey. I was a mess. I always loved being a Jew but for several years I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t know that I had the power to write my own narrative and live my life as a Jew on my own terms. The strength and confidence you see now is because all of the bullshit I went through before. Even now I am constantly learning. Every day I become more and more secure in my role as a Jewish woman, now that I can define what that means for me.

And that’s all I want for any of you! Live your Jewish truth! We are all products of so much hardship. We really do deserve to be the best version of ourselves. We deserve happiness and security in our relationships, in our careers, in every aspect of life possible. And if you’re not there yet - if you wake up wondering where you fit into the Tribe, that’s okay! You will get there! Being a Jew is a super power!!! You just need to figure out how to be a Jew in a way that makes the most sense to you. There truly is no one way to be a Jew - no wrong way to be a Jew. Being a Jew, in any capacity, makes you an awesome Jew. I wish I had someone to tell me that but I didn’t. It took me many years to be where I am now. So for anyone who needs to hear it: you’re an awesome Jew and I’m so proud of you!

#blog-ish things #Jew things #the boy™️#personal #about me #this was kind of all over the place so if you read it...apologies but also thanks?#I tried to make sense but it's a mess because at one point in my life I was a mess and some days I'm still a mess AND THAT'S OKAY!#anyway. you're all wonderful. I hope you're enjoying your weekends!

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ninaraise2020 · 3 years

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2020 Book List

For 2020, I made a new years resolution to read 52 books by the end of the year.... which is one of the first new years resolutions I’ve actually kept!! Here are some of my favorites, and my thoughts about everything I read.

As a note: I know audiobooks // ebooks aren’t everyone’s thing, but I read most of these through the Brooklyn Public Library using Libby, and through HOOPLA, the LAPL app. HOOPLA has a ton of stuff, and all you need is to write down an LA address to get a virtual library card. (And just saying, they don’t do anything to confirm that’s your actual address...)

MY LIST with favorites bolded (in the order I read them)

The first bad man, Miranda July

Can’t we talk about something more pleasant, roz chast

Killing and Dying, Adrian Tomine

The Idiot, Elif Batuman

Bad Friends, Ancco

Fully coherent plan: for a better society, David Shrigley

Through a Life, Tom Haugomat

A Body Worth Defending, Ed Cohen

The Hospital Suite, John Porcellini

Excuse Me, Liana Finck

Ongoingness, Sarah Manguso

The Romance of Tristan, Beroul

Two Kinds of Decay, Sarah Manguso

Unfinished Business, Vivian Gornick

300 Arguments, Sarah Manguso

No one belongs here more than you, Miranda July

Anti-Diet, Christy Harrison

Women, Chloe Caldwell

Romance or the End, Elaine Kahn

How to Murder Your Life, Cat Marnell

Rubyfruit Jungle, Rita Mae Brown

A Body Undone, Christina Crosby

Delta of Venus, Anaïs Nin

Sick, Porochista Khakpour

Autobiography of Red, Anne Carson

Eros the Bittersweet, Anne Carson

Norma Jean Baker of Troy, Anne Carson

Hunger, Roxanne Gay

Grief Sequence, Prageeta Sharma

The Undying, Anne Boyer

Illness as Metaphor, Susan Sontag

Gut Feminism, Elizabeth A. Wilson

Come as You Are, Emily Nagoski

Practicalities, Marguerite Duras

The Soft Life, Bridgette Talone

Look at Me, Anita Brookner

The Cancer Diaries, Audre Lorde

Zami, Audre Lorde

Fearing the Black Body, Sabrina Strings

Unbearable lightness, Portia di Rossi

The Art of Cruelty, Maggie Nelson

The Marriage Plot, Jeffrey Eugenides

The Red Parts, Maggie Nelson

Jazz, Toni Morrison

The Virgin Suicides, Jeffrey Eugenides

Motherless Brooklyn, Jonathan Lethem

Pain Studies, Lisa Olstein

The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula k. Le Guin

Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller

Catalogue of Unabashed Gratitude, Ross Gay

Coeur de Leon, Ariana Reines

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, Ocean Vuong

TOP 10 Books (in no order)

The Cancer Diaries, Audre Lorde

Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller

Eros the Bittersweet, Anne Carson

Unfinished Business, Vivian Gornick

The Marriage Plot, Jeffrey Eugenides

Autobiography of Red, Anne Carson

Zami, Audre Lorde

Catalogue of Unabashed Gratitude, Ross Gay

Come as You Are, Emily Nagoski

Coeur de Lion, Ariana Reines

Favorite queer books

Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller

Rubyfruit Jungle, Rita Mae Brown

The Cancer Diaries, Audre Lorde

Zami, Audre Lorde

Autobiography of Red, Anne Carson

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, Ocean Vuong

Catalogue of Unabashed Gratitude, Ross Gay

Favorite books about illness

Sick, Porochista Khakpour

A Body Undone, Christina Crosby

The Cancer Diaries, Audre Lorde

The Undying, Anne Boyer

Gut Feminism, Elizabeth A. Wilson

Pain Studies, Lisa Olstein

Two Kinds of Decay, Sarah Manguso

Favorite graphic novels

Through a Life, Tom Haugomat

The Hospital Suite, John Porcellini

Excuse Me, Liana Finck

Can’t we talk about something more pleasant? Roz Chast

Killing and Dying, Adrian Tomin

Favorite nonfiction

Fearing the Black Body, Sabrina Strings

Anti-Diet, Christy Harrison

The Art of Cruelty, Maggie Nelson

Gut-Feminism, Elizabeth A. Wilson

Come as You Are, Emily Nagoski

A Body Worth Defending, Ed Cohen

AND..... if you’re interested in seeing my thoughts on each book.....

A Complete List of Every Book I Read in 2020 and My Thoughts (listed in the order read)

The first bad man, Miranda July

This book is absolutely wild, and I greatly enjoyed it – I don’t think it’s everyone’s cup of tea, but if you’re looking for something very funny, surreal and visceral, I’d recommend. I described it to my friend as like if my psyche wrote a book, or like a very true dream. I enjoyed her collection of short stories, No One Belongs Here More Than You, more - but they’re both excellent.

Killing and Dying, Adrian Tomine

This was the first graphic novel I read this year. Zadie Smith said about this book, “Adrian Tomine has more ideas in twenty panels than novelists have in a lifetime,” so I was very intrigued. It reminds me a lot of Nick Drnaso’s Sabrina which is one of my favorite (if not my favorite) graphic novels. I love the book’s minimalist style, and bits of it felt like getting punched emotionally – so I’d recommend if you’re looking for that!

Can’t we talk about something more pleasant? Roz Chast

Roz Chast’s memoir about her parent’s final years is incredibly funny and beautifully done. I think New York Jews will especially enjoy – but I’d recommend to anyone!

The Idiot, Elif Batuman

For whatever reason, this book really grated on my nerves and I was not a fan. Batuman writes about a freshman at Harvard studying linguistics and writing emails to this man I wanted to punch. A lot of people love this book, so I definitely wouldn’t say not to read it – perhaps it just triggered too much of my anxiety from freshman year of college to be pleasurable. I find it similar to Jeffrey Eugenides’ The Marriage Plot, but I liked The Marriage Plot significantly more.

Bad Friends, Ancco

Content warning for abuse/violence – this graphic novel is really dark, and the violence is quite graphic. But overall, I thought it was beautifully done – and I really love the author’s drawing style.

Fully coherent plan: for a better society, David Shrigley

I love David Shrigley – this book is really silly, and I honestly just picked it up from the library because the outside looks fun. It’s a quick read mostly made up of minimalist drawings – so if you want something not-too-serious that will make you laugh, I’d recommend.

Through a life, Tom Haugomat

I also grabbed this from the library because it looked pretty (oops). I absolutely love this illustrator (he’s worth following on Insta even if you don’t read this book). It’s a series of illustrations of a boy that wants to be an astronaut, and it’s one of the most astoundingly beautiful things I’ve read this year. There are no words, and I nearly cried at the end.

A Body Worth Defending, Ed Cohen

This book discusses the history/construction of autoimmunity, and how the idea of a body “attacking itself” is inherently biopolitical. As someone with an autoimmune disorder, I found this book fascinating, but it’s also really dense so I’d just recommend if you have a particular interest in autoimmunity.

The Hospital Suite, John Porcellini

Done by the author of King Cat, this graphic novel follows the protagonist through a series of different severe medical problems. I thought it was really well done and would recommend if you’re interested in art about chronic illness.

Excuse Me, Liana Finck

I’m obsessed with everything Liana Finck does – if you don’t follow her on Instagram you should! – and this book was no exception. It’s very funny and poignant – if you like her cartoons, you’d definitely enjoy!

Ongoingness, Sarah Manguso

My friend recommended this to me a few years ago, and I recently reread. Sarah Manguso writes about her lifelong pursuit of keeping a hyper-meticulous diary, which fascinated me as someone who used to do this, too. It’s a very quick read and made me think more deeply about the desire to constantly record ones’ life as a protection against passing time.

The Romance of Tristan, Beroul

This book is wild – I read it for a class. It’s a medieval book that doesn’t really make sense and I do not think you should read it unless you are also taking a class on Medieval Drugs.

Two Kinds of Decay, Sarah Manguso

Here, Manguso writes about her autoimmune blood disorder, and her suicidal depression, relating the experience of her first flare when she was in college. Big content warning for graphic depictions of hospitals/illness/needles etc., as well as depression. I found it interesting, but I cannot overstate how graphic and upsetting this book is.

Unfinished Business, Vivian Gornick

Absolutely one of the best books I read this year. I saw Vivian Gornick talk at Pomona and was floored. Here, Gornick writes about being a chronic-re reader, and discusses some of her favorite books and how her relationship changed with them throughout time. I found myself underlining everything, her prose is just so wonderful. I think everyone should read this.

300 Arguments, Sarah Manguso

I like Sarah Manguso, so I ordered this. It’s a set of interconnected aphorisms like “Bad art is from no one to no one.” Manguso is clearly brilliant and this book is very well written – it’s just a bit too minimalist for me. I would definitely recommend Ongoingness if you want to read something by her.

No one belongs here more than you, Miranda July

I am obsessed with this short story collection. Again, don’t think Miranda July is everyone’s cup of tea, but the stories were so viscerally weird in a way that really resonated with me.

Anti-Diet, Christy Harrison

I’ve listened to Christy Harrison’s podcast Food Psych for a while now, so was very excited when her book came out. The book focuses on (in Harrison’s words) “Reclaim[ing] your time, money, health, and happiness from our toxic diet culture.” As someone in ED recovery, this book/Harrison’s work in general have changed my life (which I do not say lightly!) – anyone who struggles with body image/their relationship with food should absolutely read this.

Women, Chloe Caldwell

I read this because a girl on Tinder told me too (lol) – it’s about a woman’s sexual awakening and relationship with this woman, Finn, who reminds me of a lot of hot women I follow on Tik Tok that wear suits and look mean. It takes a minute to get into. I overall enjoyed it, and was touched by the book at the end, but found a lot of the prose to be pretty clunky. So, would I recommend – I don’t know, maybe?

Romance or the End, Elaine Kahn

My friend recommended this book of poetry to me. Elaine Kahn is so talented and writes so beautifully – another book where I found myself underlining everything. Would definitely recommend!

How to Murder Your Life, Cat Marnell

Cat Marnell’s memoir recounts her struggles with bulimia and addiction while working as a beauty editor. I found it enthralling and hard to put down. I recommended it to a friend who had to put it down because it was too stressful. I think it’s a great book, but not for everyone.

Rubyfruit Jungle, Rita Mae Brown

If the meaning of the title intrigues you, I would definitely recommend. This coming-of-age story follows Brown’s childhood, and relationships with women. I thought I liked Women by Chloe Caldwell until I read this book. Very gay, very good!!!! I could not put it down!

A Body Undone, Christina Crosby

In this memoir, Crosby writes about queerness/disability through the lens of her experience after a bicycle accident that left her paralyzed. If you want something gay with lots of theory, this book is for you! Fun fact: Crosby is the friend Nelson writes about in The Argonauts. As a heads up, though, the descriptions of pain can be pretty graphic/triggering.

Delta of Venus, Anaïs Nin

I wanted to read something by Anaïs Nin and this is absolutely NOT what I should have read. Nin wrote this erotica for a man who didn’t like romance and wanted her to skip to the sex – the foreword is basically her ranting about the man who commissioned her to write this work. There’s a lot of (unsurprisingly) incest, as well as depictions of rape/assault. I do not recommend.

Sick, Porochista Khakpour

Sick is a memoir about Khakpour’s experience living with lyme disease, and her struggle to attain a diagnosis and proper treatment. I didn’t know anything about lyme, so found this book very enlightening. I’d add it to your list if you’re interested in memoirs of chronic illness.

Eros the Bittersweet, Anne Carson

I read this book because a character in the L Word talked about it (oops….). But wow, this is truly one of the best things I’ve ever read (thanks Marina!). Even Carson’s prose is breathtakingly poetic – she stitches together Sappho’s writing, Greek myths & critical theory so seamlessly. I felt like a different person when I finished.

Autobiography of Red, Anne Carson

I absolutely loved this book. Autobiography of Red is a love story between two men based on a Greek myth. It feels surprisingly epic, despite being a pretty short read. It feels a bit like the long-form-poem version of Song of Achilles. (If you read this book and enjoyed it, absolutely read Song of Achilles).

Norma Jean Baker of Troy, Anne Carson

I love Anne Carson, but I didn’t enjoy this book as much as the others. Maybe it’s because it’s a performance piece and I read it rather than watching it be performed, or maybe I just didn’t get it.

Hunger, Roxanne Gay

In this memoir, Roxanne Gay writes about her rape (so content warning for that, as there are very graphic descriptions), and her relationship with her body. This is one of the most brutally honest books I’ve encountered about food, body image and eating disorders – Gay does not sanitize her self-blame and self-hatred – and it’s an important counternarrative to how fatness is commonly represented in the media. I would not recommend it if you’re in the depths of an ED or early on in ED recovery because it’s pretty triggering. I think it’s an important read, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable just telling anyone to read it off the bat.

Grief Sequence, Prageeta Sharma

Prageeta Sharma is a Pomona professor who is wonderful, so I was very excited to read her book. Grief Sequence is an evocative, moving, and incredibly powerful story of Sharma losing her husband to cancer. It made me even more excited to work with her, and I would definitely recommend especially if you go to the 5cs!

The Undying, Anne Boyer

I’m not sure exactly what to call The Undying – maybe memoir, maybe autofiction? But Boyer combines narrative about her own experience with breast cancer with cultural criticism, drawing on both her experience as a poet and an essayist. This book was definitely one of my favorite works about illness I’ve read this year.

Illness as Metaphor, Susan Sontag

I found this book interesting, but not my favorite of what I’ve read about chronic illness. Sontag writes about how tuberculosis and cancer take on particular cultural symbolism – did you know that tuberculosis was associated with sexual desirability? I did not! Perhaps the piece wasn’t as interesting to me because people don’t tend to get tuberculosis anymore. If you’re particularly interested in TB/cancer, or if you’re writing your thesis about chronic illness I would read, but otherwise, not sure I I’d recommend.

Gut Feminism, Elizabeth A. Wilson

This book discusses depression through the lens of the gut, arguing for feminists to incorporate biological data into their analysis. It’s pretty dense, so I’d only recommend if depression, anti-depressants, and the politics of the gut are particularly interesting to you. But as someone interested in those things, great read!

Come as You Are, Emily Nagoski

Here, Nagoski discusses female sexuality and arousal in a way that made me realize I actually knew nothing about how female arousal works. For example, did you know wetness ≠ arousal? I didn’t! This book truly revolutionized how I think about sex/sexuality. The only caveat is that the book does center on the experiences of cis women (which the author does admit in a disclaimer at the beginning), so I hope that there are future works that touch on the same ideas in more inclusive ways.

Practicalities, Marguerite Duras

I really like Marguerite Duras – The Lover is one of my favorite books – but this book didn’t really do it for me. Duras is brilliant, but parts of it felt a bit mundane/dated. A lot of people love this book, though, so I feel like it’s just me!

The Soft Life, Bridgette Talone

I made a goal for myself to read more poetry this year, since I usually read mostly prose. This is an example of the kind of poetry I struggle reading – l am less drawn to poetry that completely strays away from narrative – and this book was a bit too abstract for me. There’s beautiful imagery, it just felt like it went over my head. But it was recommended by a friend whose taste I greatly respect, so maybe it’s for you and just no for me!

Look at Me, Anita Brookner

This book took me a while to finish. Look at Me follows a librarian and aspiring novelist in her friendship with a glamorous couple. It’s very dry, witty, observant, and brilliantly satirical. I’m very glad I finished it, but it took a while to get pulled in.

The Cancer Diaries, Audre Lorde

Lorde writes about loving women, and her experience with breast cancer. It’s a collection of entries from her journal, combined with meditations on these entries. So, so very beautiful! Also very heartbreaking. This might be my favorite book I’ve read about illness.

Zami, Audre Lorde

Lorde’s wonderful coming-of-age novel covers her life growing up in New York, and her relationships with different women. It took me a bit to get into it, but once I did it was addictive to read. Certain scenes are just so breathtakingly vivid, and I don’t think I’ve read anyone who writes as well as Lorde about loving women. Also, she went to my high school, so that part was very wild to read – definitely recommend in particular to fellow Hunterites!

Fearing the Black Body, Sabrina Strings

I’ve wanted to read this book ever since listening to Strings on one of my favorite podcasts (FoodPsych). This book discusses the historical construction of thinness as an ideal tied to whiteness – it’s very well written and illuminating. I feel like the idealization of thinness is something that is often really tolerated and encouraged in liberal spaces (*cough* Claremont colleges *cough*), so definitely recommend. If you don’t have time for the book, I’d definitely suggest checking out the podcast episode!

Unbearable Lightness, Portia di Rossi

This memoir discusses di Rossi’s experience with anorexia/bulimia, and her relationship with her queerness. I read it in a day, I was so engrossed. However, I wouldn’t recommend to anyone in early stages of ED recovery, or in the thrust of an eating disorder.

The Art of Cruelty, Maggie Nelson

If you have read other works by Maggie Nelson and enjoyed them, and are interested in literature about cruelty, I’d recommend! It’s more theoretical than her other works and it’s pretty dense – I’ll definitely have to read it again to fully ‘get’ it. But Nelson is such a brilliant cultural critic that it’s a pleasure to read anything she writes. Like “truth in art is but a feeling”?? Yes!! Go off!!

The Marriage Plot, Jeffrey Eugenides

This is definitely top five of the books I’ve read this year. I was floored when I was finished. It’s set at Brown, but so many of the descriptions of campus life really resonated and amused me. The end was heart-wrenching. The prose is so evocative. I loved it.

The Red Parts, Maggie Nelson

This book focuses on the trial for the brutal murder of Nelson’s aunt by a stranger – it’s very gruesome but enthralling. I couldn’t put it down.

Jazz, Toni Morrison

I listened to the audiobook which Toni Morrison reads, which is great. Jazz is set in Harlem in the 1920s, and though it’s pretty short, it’s incredibly vivid and haunting. It’s one of the most original and intriguing narratives I’ve encountered (not even including the beauty of the prose), and unlike anything else I’ve read.

The Virgin Suicides, Jeffrey Eugenides

I read this because I loved The Marriage Plot so much. I didn’t like this as much as I liked The Marriage Plot or Middlesex. After I finished, I thought I didn’t like it, and then I listened to this podcast called Sentimental Garbage and decided I did like it after all. I was frustrated throughout the book at how obtuse the women are, but after getting over my sadness that we never figured out why the girls killed themselves, I have more appreciation for Eugenides’ vision.

Motherless Brooklyn, Jonathan Lethem

Motherless Brooklyn is different from what I usually read – it’s the only detective novel on this list – but I loved it. It’s set in my neighborhood in Brooklyn, which is particularly exciting (and why my Dad is a big Lethem stan). It’s one of the most original books I’ve ever read, and the descriptions are astoundingly innovative and vivid. It’s also really funny! And he’s a Pomona professor! My mom is reading it too for the WNYC book club, which I believe you can still join if you want.

Pain Studies, Lisa Olstein

Another illness book! Olstein writes about her experience with migraines, and also theorizes about pain. I haven’t read any book exclusively focused on pain, so this was cool! It didn’t resonate with me as much as other stuff I’ve read, but still very good.

The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula k. Le Guin

I was very excited for this book, which is a work of sci-fi written in 1969 about a world where everyone is gender-fluid and has no sexual prejudice. I didn’t enjoy it as much as I had expected to – perhaps because the main drama of the book is finding out whether this world is going to trade with another world, and I am just not very interested in trade. Sci-fi is also not really a genre I read often, so I wouldn’t do much with the fact that this book didn’t resonate.

Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller

I’ve cried maybe six times this year and finishing this book was one of them. It’s gay. It’s Greek. It’s epic. If you liked Percy Jackson and now, you’re part of the LGBTQ community you have to read it. This is the kind of book that made me worried it had ruined all other books. I think this is a perfect book, or at least the closest I can imagine.

Catalogue of Unabashed Gratitude, Ross Gay

This book is astoundingly beautiful. A friend recommended it and said it made his writing a lot happier - which was exactly what I needed! – and this description rings true. I definitely have more trouble reading poetry than prose but found this book very powerful and engaging. I read it in one sitting.

Coeur de Leon, Ariana Reines

Absolutely one of my favorite books of poetry! Coeur de Leon embodies the exact kind of poetry I really like – the language is accessible, it’s visceral, it has a narrative – and also made me feel seen. I feel like it’s also one of those books made for people that like to write, especially about love. Very much recommend.

On Earth, We’re Briefly Gorgeous, Ocean Vuong

It took me a while to get into this one, and I felt for a while that everything was too depressing to enjoy it. While I do definitely want to revisit in post-pandemic times, I still was deeply moved. Big content warning though for drug abuse, death, and probably some other stuff I’m forgetting.

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juliabohemian · 4 years

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Can We Take a Joke?

Recently I have been thinking a lot about what it means for something to be offensive. A few years back, a favorite comedian of mine lost his prestigious job, working alongside a duck, as a spokesperson for a large healthcare corporation because he tweeted a joke that some people (or perhaps an entire nation of people) found offensive.

This particular comedian is notorious for joking about topics that are really touchy. I have been a fan of his comedy since the 80s, probably since before I was even old enough to be watching his shows. I have never been offended by anything he's said. The reason being that there is not an ounce of maliciousness to be found there. He doesn't come across as hateful. Just tactless. Almost to the point where it's so ridiculous, that you know he isn't serious.

Gilbert Gottfried is notorious for joking about topics that are really touchy. I have been a fan of his comedy since the 80s, probably since before I was even old enough to be watching his shows. I have never been offended by anything he's said. The reason being that there is not an ounce of maliciousness to be found there. He doesn't come across as hateful. Just tactless. Almost to the point where it's so ridiculous, that you know he isn't serious.

Gilbert Gottfried has always appealed to me because of how bravely and stubbornly he refuses to yield to social conventions, which I personally find exhausting. Growing up as a neurodivergent (I have both autism and ADHD) I would often say things that offended other people and could never seem to understand where I’d gone wrong. I felt like I was running some kind of obstacle course, in which the rules were constantly changing. I was fascinated by watching Gilbert on stage, being true to himself despite whatever heckling he might endure. It took me years of navigating around other people's feelings to figure out how I could still be me, without causing others distress. I am still working on it.

Which brings me to my first point, which is what does it actually mean to be offended? We’ve all been offended at some point, whether we like it or not. Basically it means that something another person said or did triggered an emotional reaction in us that we did not enjoy, and after some analysis (or no analysis) we came to the conclusion that the source of our emotion lay entirely outside of ourselves, rather than consider the possibility that some portion of our reaction was the result of our own trauma or emotional baggage.

So, what is it that makes people feel the need to censor other people? It comes down to control. Just so you know, we don’t have any. The sooner you embrace that, the happier you will be. The problem is that, for the most part, we tend to feel helpless unless we take some sort of action. It gives us the illusion of control. When, in fact, we cannot control what other people say or do. Not really. If you don’t believe me, have some children and you should be thoroughly convinced. At the end of the day, we can only control ourselves. And most of us can’t even do that.

That being said, censorship actually began with conservatives and evangelicals. That’s not too hard to dissect. A major component of their ideology involves monopolizing the moral high ground. They devoted a great deal of energy to protecting humanity from such dangers as homosexuality and promiscuity and women wearing pants and having jobs. Things like that. And they had that gig for a few thousand years until, sometime during the last 4 decades or so, there was a paradigm shift. The right passed the censorship torch to the liberals. Or the right accidentally dropped it while they were looking for Obama’s birth certificate. Either way, it now seems that the left is attempting to do what the right could not, which is to police the world and rid it of its ills.

Bearing in mind, of course, that I consider myself as liberal as a person can possibly be. I find that while I often share the views of other liberals about what is and isn’t offensive, I don’t always agree with them about what, if anything, we should do about it.

Which begs the question, when should a reasonably intelligent, emotionally mature person be offended? And I think it really does come down to a few factors, primarily intent and context. These things are really important. Who told the joke and why were they telling it? Who is the target of the joke? Are we laughing AT them or WITH them?

A Jew telling a joke about jews is not offensive. And if you’re not Jewish, you don’t get to have a say about it. A black man joking about what it’s like to drive around a strange neighborhood, while black, is also not offensive. Neither is a white person joking about it, frankly, so long as the point of the joke is how ridiculous it is that a black person even has to deal with that shit in the first place.

When the target of the joke is a member of a marginalized group and the purpose of the joke is to commiserate with that person, then it’s not offensive. It only has the potential to be offensive when the person telling the joke is a member of a privileged group (male, Caucasian, Christian) and the target of the joke is not. Note, I said POTENTIAL. Because sometimes jokes that fit that definition aren’t offensive. They’re just not funny. In which case, that situation usually takes care of itself.

I have found that almost all comedy can be divided into two categories: drawing attention to that which is obvious or doing the exact opposite of what people are expecting. Most stand-up comedy falls into the first category. Which is why stand up comedians talk about things like relationship woes, airplane food, having kids etc. Because poking fun at experiences that large groups of people can relate to is a practical choice when you are dealing with an audience of total strangers. Especially when those strangers are your primary source of income.

The thing about comedians is that most of them don't genuinely believe what they are saying. The audience knows this. Or at least, they should. Comedians often adopt a persona when they take the stage, which differs drastically from their real life selves. Do I think Gilbert Gottfried is happy that Japanese people lost their lives to a horrible tsunami? Not for one second. Do I think that he was amused by the events of 9-11? As a lifelong resident of Brooklyn, I seriously doubt it. I think he was doing what he's always done, what we ALL do, which is to make jokes about things that are uncomfortable, in order to alleviate the discomfort. That’s what comedians do. In fact, we RELY upon them to do it. We RELY upon humor to help us cope with tragedy and trauma.

Which I can relate to on a very deep level because I have been through some pretty horrific shit in my life and I have always been the first person to make a joke about it. There have been times in my life where I have been telling a story about something terrible I went through and the other person was clearly uncomfortable with my making a joke about it. I could tell, just by looking at them, that they wanted to be offended. They wanted to claim that moral high ground and let me know that I was being inappropriate. But they couldn’t because it’s MY LIFE AND I WILL JOKE ABOUT IT IF I WANT TO.

Getting back to how to know whether something is offensive...I was watching a documentary called Can We Take a Joke? which was specifically addressing the topic of people being offended by comedy. Within the documentary there was some footage of a young man at a college doing some (and I use this term generously) stand-up comedy in which he was disparaging women's studies as a major, after which a woman in the audience (who he called a loud mouthed cunt) ran on stage and told him to shut up.

This is a perfect example of when intent matters. How is this young man different than a comedian who is simply joking about something uncomfortable in order to alleviate discomfort? Simply put, he believes what he is saying. Not only does he dislike women’s studies, he dislikes women in general. He is drawn to the stage out of a desire to have a platform for expressing that disdain. And that came across in his act because, well, he didn’t try very hard to hide it.

Can the concept of women's studies be funny? Absolutely. There are many jokes we could make about women's studies and gender studies and other similar academic majors. I could probably do an entire 30 minute routine just on social sciences in general. But this young man wasn't drawing attention to the obvious, which is that often these majors don't lead to any specific career path. He was simply expressing disdain for women.

Is that offensive? Well, yes. Disdain can be funny, so long as it isn’t the product of bias towards an entire group of people. Disdain for having a cold, for instance. Disdain for being stuck in traffic. Disdain for women, however, isn’t worthy of laughter.

But is the appropriate response to run on stage and demand that he be quiet? No. The level of anger expressed by the woman in the audience was, shall we say, disproportionate. She seemed a little unhinged. Although, it’s possible that she already knew the young man or that they had some sort of personal history. Either way, the solution, if there even is one, is to ignore him and stop giving him attention. Is it fair to be offended by someone who seems genuinely hateful? Absolutely. But it isn’t always appropriate, productive, or even possible to take any sort of counteraction.

Not only that but I think there is no real danger that this kid will ever break into the comedy business for real. So, he will likely have to look to some MRA themed subreddit for further validation of his misogyny. Unless the next loudmouthed cunt that storms on stage kills him, of course.

When Mr. Gottfried made that unfortunate tweet about the tsunami in Japan the internet crucified him. People actually said he should die. Which, to me, is a far worse statement than any jokes the comedian has ever made. I was furious, not only with the general public, but with other show business personalities who refused to speak up on Mr. Gottfried’s behalf. In hindsight, I realize that they were probably terrified that they would be next on the chopping block. Which says a lot about us as a society, I think.

But I don’t think the problem is that people are too easily offended. The problem is that too many people lack critical thinking skills. We need to be willing to ask ourselves whether something is genuinely offensive, or if the topic of it simply evokes negative feelings for us because of our own individual experiences. We need to be willing to step away and resist the urge to take everyone else with us. We also need to accept that sometimes there are genuinely hateful assholes in the world and that silencing them is not always an option.

If something genuinely is offensive, what should you do about it? 99% of the time, the correct answer is nothing. Now, I'm not talking about hate speech. I'm not talking about propaganda. I'm talking about some comedian, shock jock, TV personality making a joke that you found offensive. You can certainly blog about it, if it makes you feel better. But after that you should avoid that person, their material, their show etc. Because, clearly it is not the right entertainment for you.

I feel that way about King of the Hill and Family Guy. But since I am capable of acknowledging that those things are amusing to other people, I am able to refrain from launching a campaign against their creators under the guise of making the world a better place for everyone.

TL;DR Gilbert Gottfried is a national treasure and should be protected, like the Grand Canyon. AFLAC knew exactly what they were getting when they hired him and merely fired him due to the pressures put in place by late stage capitalism, which dictate that anyone working for a profit seeking entity is at the mercy of public opinion. Shine on, you crazy diamond.

#gilbert gottfried #aflac #aflac fired gilbert gottfried when they realized they'd hired gilbert gottfried #stand up comedy #people who are offended #what does it mean to be offended #offensive comedy #the difference between comedy and hate speech #free speech #leave gilbert alone and let him enjoy his life #op #juliabohemian rant #juliabohemianrant

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schraubd · 5 years

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Jewish Representation on Television: A Random Review

I've been thinking about Jewish representation on television series over the past few days. The trigger was actually an antisemite who was complaining that there are too many Jewish characters on television -- we apparently have taken over his TV. That struck me, because my naive view was that Jewishness actually doesn't get a lot of attention on TV series (even Seinfeld, if I recall correctly, rather famously did not actually say its characters were Jewish). But I decided to actually think about it more, and look into how Jews are portrayed on the shows I watch. This is therefore not remotely scientific -- though I do watch a fair bit of TV -- and some obvious choices (Broad City!) thus aren't included. I'm most interested in shows that are not primarily about Jews, but nonetheless have Jewish characters whose Jewishness is fleshed out in a substantive way. I include shows that have no Jewish characters. This is not necessarily a critique -- not every show has to include Jews -- but it is worth including to get a sense if there is any pattern to what sorts of shows have Jews and what don't. That said, I'm not necessarily a superfan of all these shows, so it's possible that I could miss something (though it hardly counts if deep in Season 6 a show briefly mentions so-and-so is Jewish, only to never bring it up again before or since). * * * 30 Rock: On a show about New York City comedy writers, only Josh -- Josh! -- might be Jewish. This entire show is a case of "just say Jewish, this is taking forever!" C- Big Bang Theory: Of the major characters, only Howard (and his mother) are Jewish. Neither are exactly positive representations -- Howard, in particular, manages to be the most perverted, awkward and creepy of a cadre of young male scientists whose whole shtick is that they're kind of perverted, awkward, and creepy around women. Interestingly, Bernadette is portrayed as super-goyish even though Melissa Rauch is actually Jewish (Mayim Bialik is more famously Jewish, but to my knowledge Amy Farrah-Fowler is not depicted as a tribe member). D- Billions: At first I thought this show had no Jewish characters, a decision I chalked up to maybe wanting to step lightly around the whole "ruthless billionaires manipulating the financial system" thing. But then I remembered: Spyros is Jewish! Spyros! By far the worst character on the show along pretty much any metric you might consider, including that he's portrayed as a serial sexual predator. Literally every character is at least written in shades of grey, and we get Spyros. Ugh. D Brooklyn Nine-Nine: Jake Peralta is Jewish. It pretty much only comes up when he has flashbacks to his Bar Mitzvah (curse you Jenny Gildenhorn!), but at least it is acknowledged as a part of his character with substance. That said, it almost never is visible in his adult life -- most strikingly, there's no portrayal of it being discussed with Amy in terms of how their family will or won't be Jewish. B- Buffy the Vampire Slayer (and Angel): Willow is Jewish, but it gets almost no attention -- I think by the end of the series she's outright celebrating Christmas. C The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina: No Jewish characters. Community: Annie is Jewish, but it is almost entirely downplayed. Indeed, it basically never comes up outside the first season. Missed opportunity. C+ Crashing: This is a tough one to judge, since so many of the characters are playing themselves. I know Sarah Silverman is Jewish. I think Artie Lange is? I don't know if Ali Reissen is supposed to be Jewish, but the actress who plays her definitely is. I do know Pete Holmes is not Jewish. I can't give a rating here. Dollhouse: No Jewish characters. Elementary: No Jewish characters. Firefly: No real Jewish characters, though they do briefly show a postmaster wearing a yarmulke. It's actually a really neat moment of casual Jewish inclusion that I really appreciate. Fresh off the Boat: I don't think any of the regulars (including Eddie's friends) are Jewish, but Evan's arch-rival Phillip Goldstein is definitely Jewish -- and definitely portrayed as a massive asshole. C Game of Thrones: No Jewish characters (outrageous!). The Good Place: No Jewish characters (actual sad face here -- though I can see how incorporating actual religious faith into this show might be hard). I Feel Bad: Probably not worth including -- it was canceled after one season, and I'm not sure it even fully aired the one -- except to give one last plug to my headcanon where it is Sarayu Blue's side of the family that is Jewish. Brian George -- who plays her father -- is Jewish! He should get to play a Jewish character some time. Alas, the show goes down the more predictable route of making Paul Adelstein's side of the family the Jewish one. It does a good job with that. I guess. Still salty. B Insecure: I don't think any characters are Jewish. Frieda might be Jewish, which would be okay. Joanne also might be Jewish, which would be a less attractive proposition. iZombie: No Jewish characters. Mad Men: Rachel Mencken is great. She also stands pretty much alone. B+ Marvelous Mrs. Maisel: This is the only show that is explicitly Jewish in focus, and as I said that's not my main concern here. In any event, not everyone likes the portrayal of Jewishness, but I actually find it quite warm on the whole. A. Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.: No Jewish characters. Mozart in the Jungle: No Jewish characters (really?). New Girl: Full disclosure: I did not watch this show all the way to the end. Anyway, Schmidt is one of the more famous Jewish portrayals of contemporary television. I'm not his greatest fan -- in particularly, that he's a proud Republican is, shall we say, statistically anomalous -- but once I started comparing him to the competition above he turns out pretty decent. Still, he, too -- especially in the early seasons -- doesn't exactly stand out on the "treats women with respect" metric. B Parks and Rec: The main Jewish characters are the Saperstein twins -- John-Ralphio and Mona Lisa. They are each, in their own way, "the worst person in the world." And with John-Ralphio, we get yet another creepy Jewish harasser. D The Orville: There are no Jews in space. The West Wing: This show actually comes out great. Toby and Josh are Jewish, visibly so, yet in very distinctive ways. It comes up, though it isn't obsessed over, in ways that feel authentic to their character. And the pilot includes one of my favorite "Jewish" scenes in all of television. A+ * * * In sum, I'd say that -- outside of shows where Judaism is a central focus (Marvelous Mrs. Maisel), there are a dearth of characters whose Jewishness is portrayed (a) positively and (b) as a substantive (not all-encompassing) presence in their lives. It seems that sci-fi and fantasy shows are the least likely to have Jewish characters, which is understandably, though it includes series set on Earth or otherwise "near-real world" conditions. This might reflect anxiety around how to portray Jews in juxtaposition with the occult and/or dystopian authoritarianism without reenacting antisemitic tropes. On the positive side, The West Wing, in my view, stands head-and-shoulders above the crowd; other solid performers include Brooklyn Nine Nine, New Girl, and (for what it's worth) I Feel Bad. But these are exceptional, for the most part, the Jewishness of characters either isn't established much beyond its mere mention. And the main exception is when Jewish male characters are portrayed as perverts, creeps, or sexual harassers -- indeed, this might be the most common way of "marking" a character as Jewish, which is worrisome. via The Debate Link http://bit.ly/2YP4sVe

#Jews #television

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nehedar · 4 years

Text

A synchromystic birth story

In 1986 I was a 5 year old living in North Miami Beach, and going to kindergarten. I dreamt that my mom was late picking me up from school and I was left alone on the playground. Noticing some movement in the tall grass at the edge of the playground, I saw a lion weaving in and out and decided to explore that area. (brave, right?)

I wandered in the grass, and soon began to hear two women screaming for help. I followed the voices until I got to a clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a fountain, like a large cement birdbath, the screaming was coming from the fountain. As I approached I saw with horror that inside the fountain was my teacher’s head and my mom’s head, each cut in half and sewn back together. They both looked at me and screamed at me to separate them. I felt such pity and horror but I knew that if I were to separate them, they’d both die.

I woke up crying and upset, naturally and went into my parents room, at which time my dad told me that I could learn how to control my dreams. He gave me the instructions to “find my hands.” He gave me a rudimentary lesson in lucid dreaming that I would develop throughout my life, first lucidly dreaming around 7 and developing from there. It’s a work in progress.

In the meantime, I pondered the meaning of the dream, always mystified by the lion and fountain which seem like such strong, symbolic images for a five year old’s mind to construct a story out of. I loosely translated it as being torn between my mother and the outside world, represented by Mrs Cohen, my schoolteacher.

In October 2001 I was 20. I was living in a dorm room at Stern College in NYC and my mom had also moved back from Zion, Illinois to her native NYC as well. Only my youngest sister was living with her at the time.

My mom and sister weren’t getting along. My sister who was 12 at the time called me frequently and told me the problems they were having that mostly stemmed from my mom’s inability to find a job and sleeping all the time. My sister had little confidence in my mom’s abilities to care for her.

I had found them a therapist and was doing all I could, assuming it was normal relationship, emotional, and economic problems, until one night while my sister was complaining, I heard my mom in the background clearly slurring with an odd tone in her voice.

I told my sister to put her on the phone and when I heard her voice, I immediately got a very strong feeling that my mom had a brain tumor and was going to die. I know that sounds made up, but it’s true. I remember that moment clear as day. I was in my dorm room at the time, smoking a cigarette out the window. I sat down and took a breath, realizing that the next step was getting her to the hospital.

The next day I had been excited because Maya Angelou was speaking at my school, but I skipped the event and headed to Brooklyn, to my mom’s apartment while my sister was at school.

When I got there, the door was open, and there were papers on the floor. I walked in and sat on the futon and fended off the cat’s attacks while I stayed, nervously wondering where my mom was.

She stumbled in the door soon after with one shoe on her foot. We called a car service and went to the emergency room. She had no insurance at the time but would be set up with Medicaid.

She was very dazed in the hospital. The clearest memory I have is of her reading French signs and slipping into French.

By the time she was seen, they didn’t want to keep her. Maybe they thought she was on drugs, or just mentally ill, but my friend was able to convince them to keep her. They left her in what I can only call a “cell” with no furniture, where they left her sleeping on the floor.

I was left with the assumption that my mom was having some kind of serious mental breakdown for a day or two but one day at work I got a message to call a doctor at the hospital.

Someone had ordered a CT scan which found a large tumor in her brain that needed immediate surgery. The extraction biopsy would tell us the nature of the cancer.

It was Chanukah when I came to visit my mom in the hospital post-op. When I first saw her, I gasped a little bit because the dramatic scar on her shaved head looked so familiar, the way the stitching had appeared years ago in the dream.

They broke the news to me that she had an aggressive stage 4 glioblastoma multiforme, that would surely kill her soon. It could be as early as a couple months away.

My mom didn’t want to die, she wanted to be a guinea pig for natural medicinal approaches to curing cancer. So my grandmother (who was also dying with non hodgkins lymphoma) gave me $10,000 to spend on these experimental efforts.

I was doing what my mom wanted, but I still regret not just getting her high at that time. That was her favorite thing to do. Of course nothing we did worked. The best time to start something like that is before the surgery, and we would have needed vast sums of money to have the ability to take her somewhere that could care for her.

One day while my mom was in the hospital, I had a dream where the chime of an email arriving sounded from the basement of the house where I was living.

I went down to the basement and found there was a rainbow gathering in there. I figured that my life was so stressful, I had created something to give me a sense of peace and calm in my dream.

But when I woke up from the dream I figured, might as well check my email.

In my inbox there was an invitation to a rainbow gathering in Emilia, Italy, which happens to be my name. I felt a little shaken up by such an intense invitation (It made sense that I’d be on a rainbow gathering email list, but don’t remember getting any other invitations other than that one).

I went to the rainbow gathering, which made my mother really proud. I had taken her to her first rainbow gathering the previous summer and she had the best time of her life. She actually considered that her brain tumor had been caused by the shocking difference between the depression she’d lived with in her home life, back in Zion, Illinois, and the bliss she felt at the rainbow gathering.

She hung on through the summer but not much longer. On June 20th, I was approached about signing a DNR by the hospital. June 20th was my 21st birthday and it just so happened that was the exact age I had to be in order to legally sign it. Me and the social worker shared an otherworldly chuckle about that.

She died on September 8th 2002, more importantly on the second day of Rosh Hashana.

I muddled through life for a while after that, pretending to want to go to school, but really just enjoying the dorms’ midtown location so I could work on my music in the city. I had been an orthodox Jew since the age of 18 but chose to exclude any personal concern about the Jewish kol isha law from my practice after I began writing songs. The first song I recorded and the first video I made was called Mama and feature old home movies of my mother and her mother (who died 3 months prior to my mom’s death.)

A year or two after, I brought lice from a rainbow gathering to the dorms at Stern. I shaved my head to protect my roommates and classmates after trying unsuccessfully to manage it on my own. A rumor started that I did it to protest agunot. I didn’t discourage the rumor. That year when it was time for high holiday services, I was pressured to wear a wig, borrowed from a married neighbor, so I wouldn’t bother the congregation. I felt a clear message that my mom, whose yarzeit it was didn’t want me to put up with this crap. I haven’t really been open to shul since.

I got married in 2012 and was pregnant the next year, at which time I began to experience a lot of grief about my mother not being present for my pregnancy.

My mother had 6 kids, the last 2 at home, and always said she loved being pregnant and giving birth. I on the other hand, hated being pregnant, being poked and prodded and just wished I could talk to my mom about it.

I wrote a song about it called “Come in to the Light” which was a call for my mother’s presence to surface and watch and guide me through the pregnancy.

I enlisted a video artist to make a video to accompany the song and I talked to her about my dream imagery. She asked me for a photo of my mother, and she surprised me by flashing my mother’s bright smile at the end of it.

In the last trimester of my pregnancy I was looking for work and a friend put out a call for a temporary worker to help sign synagogue members up for high holiday tickets. The synagogue happened to be my mom’s favorite synagogue B’nai Jeshurun in the Upper West Side. On the same block as the synagogue were 2 carvings on either side of an apartment building with actual fountains where the water came out of a lion’s mouth into fountain below.

I stared at this, utterly disbelieving what I was seeing. I wondered if I had ever visited NYC with my mom when I was very young, been to the synagogue with her and seen the lion and fountain which might have explained their presence in my dream. My dad told me that I had never been to New York with my mom. I felt as if the present was affecting the past. I took this picture on my last day of work.

I left that job on my due date, but didn’t give birth until 10 days after that, which happened to be the anniversary (yartzeit) of my mother’s death. I had a hard time in labor, mostly due to the meanness, bullying and dehumanization of the mechanized, medicalized birth industry, and the particular hospital and practice that I gave birth at.

I didn’t want to use pain medicine, as my mom hadn’t used it. But the hospital wasn’t accustomed to non medicated women, let’s say. At one point, tired of the combative standoffs I was having with hospital staff, I asked for it.

When the anesthesiologist began her speech about what she was going to do, I felt no option but to politely as possible ask her to stop talking immediately. She left the room and didn’t come back. I was able to get through the transition phase of labor because at one point my husband whispered in my ear “Your mom would be so proud of you.” That triggered the image from the end of my video that the artist had snuck in, of my mom’s radiant face to pop into my mind and remain there fixed, as a focal point.

UPDATE: In 2020, (my son is almost 6 years old) I learned my doula has the same birthday as my mom (8/28). That same doula, super “randomly” had worked in the same position as me at the synagogue the year before.

https://youtu.be/WN_ITpDmJKE?t=263

#synchromysticism #birth #story #bir #syncronicity

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traincat · 5 years

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speaking of mcu spidey weirdness, am i the only one who feels like they tried to fuse flash with a harry on a particularly bad trip? i remember him being brown in a comic timeline but never mean when sober. and after pheathers, making the bully a smart member of a minority group just feels tonedeaft

I think there’s a very good argument for Norman and Harry being mixed race in the main canon, because I think Norman reads best as a character if there’s something about him that he’s personally and to his detriment deeply ashamed of and repressed about and that he goes to great lengths to cover up. This could be that he’s mixed race --- the tight curl pattern of the Osborn hair, and Harry’s afro in Spider-Gwen’s flashback scenes could lend themselves to this -- or that he’s Jewish -- again, the tight curl pattern of the Osborn hair and Harry’s afro in the Spider-Gwen flashbacks, along with the extremely questionable decision to have Harry bullied for being rich by having kids call him “the Green Goblin.” (It is actually still antisemitic if you don’t actually go all the way there, Jason Latour.) The self-hating Jew aspect definitely becomes problematic in a canon where Peter Parker isn’t himself openly and proudly canonically Jewish, so I tend to steer clear of this one, though I do think it could be very interesting in terms of Norman turning himself into the ultimate stereotype of the wealth-hoarding evil Jewish business man through his own self-hatred. My current favorite reading of Norman is that Norman is a deeply repressed gay man. There’s plenty of subtext here to support this: the obsession with Peter Parker as the young and strong masculine ideal, the deeply campy original Green Goblin design with the fuschia purse and the huge fake eyelashes, Norman’s eschewing and disdain for his genetic descendants, the paralleling between Norman’s abuse of Harry with a father’s sexual abuse of his son in The Child Within, and the seduction and later the torture of Flash Thompson when Norman recruited him to be his assistant after his return from the dead. It’s all potentially, to use a word I hate, very problematic without a deft hand in the storytelling, but I think done right and balanced against some honest and positive representation any of the above could offer up some very good stories.

Anyway, all that Osborn stuff aside, yeah, the decisions made with Flash in the MCU truly baffle me. I like the casting of Tony Revolori, who I really enjoyed in Grand Hotel Budapest, but the decision to make him a nerd who verbally bullies Peter instead of a jock who antagonizes Peter is bizarre, to say the least. I think I read an article somewhere that said the change was made because jocks aren’t the “in kids” anymore, which, like, presents a weird picture of current American high school politics where all the nerds are just picking on each other now in an attempt to become the new pop culture ruling class. Then there’s the fact that Flash, now A Smart Kid, is routinely passed over in favor of Peter, kicked off the decathlon in favor of Peter, and, during the Washington Monument scene, depicted as a person who would rather save a trophy than help his classmate and in-comics high school girlfriend, Liz. So now that Flash is brown, the MCU has decided to portray him as a smart kid who is routinely passed over for the supposedly smarter white kid, and a materialistic coward beside. I’ve seen Homecoming get a lot of praise for its diverse cast, and I have to say I do like much of the casting, but the follow through in the actual movie is, I would say, far less progressive than it looks on paper. See also: this being the first Spider-Man movie with a black love interest and coincidentally the first Spider-Man movie without a kiss scene in it, and the erasure of Mary Jane’s identity by pasting her nickname onto a character the screenwriters have been very open about saying isn’t Mary Jane, a character who isn’t even given a last name within the film, following the massive racist backlash after rumors broke out that Zendaya was playing Mary Jane.

It’s also important, in my opinion, to note that in main comics continuity Flash Thompson’s childhood was marked by violent and repeated physical abuse by his father. The Amazing Spider-Man (2012) is the only film franchise to reference this, even though Flash Thompson is a character who has appeared in all three Spider-Man film franchises. The Thompson family in 616 is depicted as extremely blue collar: Flash is a high school football star whose father is a cop and an alcoholic who beats his son and ridicules his wife. They live in a modest apartment. MCU Flash, by contrast, is depicted as a nerd who drives a very expensive car and gets ousted from the academic decathlon by Peter, who doesn’t even care about the decathlon and just needs an excuse to go to DC where -- conveniences of all plot conveniences -- the decathlon is being held. I mean, they just bussed my dad out to Brooklyn when he was a mathlete, but whatever. (Spider-Man: Homecoming has a deeply weird undercurrent about financial status; almost everyone in the movie is either depicted as comfortably middle class, including the Parkers, or as rich.) I’m going to admit: the scene where Peter steals and wrecks Flash’s car made me deeply uncomfortable in the theater, knowing Flash’s comics backstory. Absence of on-screen or referenced abuse is not, in and of itself, a lack of that abuse within the story, or rather an erasure of the contents of the work the story was adapted from. If we assume 616 is the main universe, and that everything leads out of there, then from my perspective, unless other evidence is offered up, there’s no reason to assume things don’t line up, i.e., without direct evidence otherwise I have to assume Flash is still a victim of parental abuse. Expensive gifts like a car isn’t direct evidence against that. Flash being a nerd now isn’t direct evidence against that.

(Spectacular Spider-Man #-1)

(Amazing Spider-Man #574)

(Venom (2011) #27)

So I think about scenes like this and then I think about Flash being the butt of the joke in Spider-Man: Homecoming over Peter stealing his car and at the very least, I have to say, I’m not happy with the lack of nuance presented, or the implication that the MCU’s Flash couldn’t be a victim of abuse because he’s a rich nerd in this iteration. It is, now that you mention it, a bizarrely Harry Osborn-esque take on the character: the expensive car, the rich background, smart but not as smart as Peter, a bit of a jerk to Peter in their early acquaintanceship in a verbal rather than a physical way, not exactly the bravest crayon in the box. But there’s an issue in that too because, like Flash, although rarely depicted as physically, Harry was also abused in his childhood by his father. So we’re back to square one with the car scene and some troubling implications, turning a character who bears the name of one abused character and wears the traits of another into the butt of a joke so Audi could fit another car into the movie.

Like I said, I do like the casting and I think Revolori is a great actor and did his best with the part he was given -- I just wish the character had been handled by the writers and director with any compassion. A big part of me wishes that instead of pasting Ned Leeds’ name over Ganke Lee, Miles Morales’ best friend, the MCU had compressed the timeline and just let Flash Thompson inhabit his future rule as Peter Parker’s best friend. Instead, we get Flash Thompson, The One Note Bully: Nerd Remix.

#flash thompson #*replies #traincat talks comics #traincat talks homecoming #mcu negativity/#mcu criticism/#long post/#child abuse cw/#also i keep seeing fics now where the avengers publicly humiliate flash to get revenge for peter and like yikes #Anonymous

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humansofhds · 6 years

Text

Edwin Alanís-García, MTS ’19

“Ever since I was little I did nothing but read, and I always think, what’s the point of acquiring knowledge if you’re not going to share it and exchange it or try to dissect it with the help of others.”

Edwin is an MTS ‘19 candidate studying philosophy and religion and a writer of poetry and fiction.

Learning to Know

I’m from a small town about an hour-and-a-half outside of Chicago. It’s part of the suburbs, but it is on the edge, so it's very rural. The road leading up to my parents' house is just off the interstate and it's mostly surrounded by cornfields and soybean fields and farm houses. It’s a small and not very diverse town. Population of about 5,000. When we were growing up it was predominately white—about 99 percent white. Our family was part of the other one percent. But we were all working class, that was the one thing in common.

Both of my parents are from rural Mexico. My dad first came to the U.S. as a kid, as a migrant farm worker, and then as a young man living in New York he learned how to weld. In Mexico my mom worked as a receptionist and as a cashier at a grocery store. My dad's training led him to become a union pipe fitter/welder. It was a grueling and dangerous job, but it was extraordinarily well-paying for an immigrant. That's what enabled our family to live very comfortably.

In coming here, I think my family was trying to leave their old world behind. And it wasn't a bad world they were leaving, at least in comparison to small-town Illinois. But one side effect was that it was very isolating to be in America. Our household is like taking a slice out of rural Northern Mexico and dropping it in the middle of small-town Illinois. We couldn't assimilate well, which I'm rather grateful for despite its drawbacks. There's a trope in many immigrant narratives that the first generation kid has trouble learning English. For me it was the opposite.

I started to teach myself how to read when I was around three years old. No one thought there was anything strange about it. It wasn’t until recently that I realized it was unusual. It eventually became one of the many reasons I've always felt like an outsider. One of my most important memories from elementary school was being asked to sit in the corner during recess because I was the only kid who did our first writing assignment correctly. The teacher had to redo the lesson for everyone else. It wasn’t a punishment, but it sure felt like it.

Even the way I speak, when I tell people where I’m from, they say they can’t hear a Chicago accent. I think it has to do with the way I acquired language, which was mostly through an old dictionary and an encyclopedia set my parents got from a grocery store. There was nothing else to do in our town, so I just stayed inside and read. Evidently that did something—for better and for worse.

Leaving Home

As an undergrad I studied philosophy and psychology. I probably would have been better suited for English, which was surprisingly one of my least favorite subjects in school, along with math. I was definitely more interested in the sciences, especially biology and astronomy. It’s kind of painful to say, but coming to literature wasn’t really my dream, but it feels like where I was rightfully placed. I didn't view language as what I was passionate about and loved. I think my success with it was more a product of a weird background and a disordered mind.

After undergrad I did a few years of grad school in philosophy, but after that I didn’t really know where to go. Job opportunities in my hometown were very bleak. They're still bleak. People kept telling me that I should apply to MFA programs in writing, so I applied and got in to a few schools. I was totally shocked. That moment was the beginning of the biggest shift in my life. Where I went to undergrad was a campus literally surrounded by cornfields. Then suddenly I was living in Brooklyn and going to school in Manhattan.

Emerging from the subway for the first time, I had never seen anything like it—so many people. I have bad anxiety in big groups, so it took a while but eventually I got used to it. Culturally, though, the biggest adjustment was class. The cost of living in New York is astronomical. While I was studying there, maybe 150 students passed through our program and out of those students only about 3-4, including myself, came from a working class or low income background. It was the first time ever in my life I met people who said that they had gone to Ivy League schools for undergrad. I always thought that was something that only happened on TV or in books. I had to learn that there was nothing mythical about it.

Cambridge is the quintessential college town, and I feel very at ease here. Growing up, my world was a dictionary and an encyclopedia set, and now I have access to the world’s largest university library system. I can socialize and have a nightlife if I want, and be socially active, or I can keep to myself and camp out in the library if I need to. It feels like I have more options here to go my own way.

Getting to HDS

There are three things that led me here. The first was my general interest in philosophy, especially epistemology of religion. Ever since I was little I never had faith. I went to church but I didn’t understand why we were going to church. It felt like religion was one of the rare domains in which it's explicitly acceptable to believe in something against the evidence. This isn’t to say that reason and argumentation are not used to defend religion, especially with philosophers like Aquinas and especially with contemporary analytic philosophers of religion like Alvin Plantinga. They give well-reasoned arguments for religious belief. Even though I don’t agree with them, it's interesting to hear their approach because I'm more in line with that tradition. But what I am fascinated by are the traditions that don’t follow that path, that say there is something other than just evidence and reason, like experience and faith. Views like pragmatism and fideism. I'm not really on board with these views, but I think they say something important about the nature of belief. Not just religious belief, but belief in general.

What brought me here on a more personal level happened when I was doing research for my MFA thesis. I was researching the city of Monterrey in Northern Mexico, the region where most of my family is from, when I found out that the first European colonial settlers there were conversos, or Sephardic Jews who had converted to Christianity. I knew nothing about this history and no one in my family knew about it, either. I wanted to learn more about this vein of Jewish history because after DNA testing it was confirmed that my family has a significant percentage of Sephardic ancestry. So, part of what I am here to study is this hidden history of people navigating multiple worlds: There’s the Jewish thread that's been partially erased throughout history, and the indigenous thread which has been replaced by the more romanticized Aztec/Mayan civilizations, which don't actually seem to be causally connected to the indigenous tribes that existed along the borders. There's a lost story here, and I'm hoping to find out more about it and hopefully write about it.

The final moment that led me here, that pushed me to studying religion and philosophy, was a craft of fiction class at NYU taught by Zadie Smith. Zadie assigned me to give a presentation on Kafka and Kierkegaard; as soon as I started rereading those authors, I realized that I wanted to return to philosophy, but through the study of religion and literature. Zadie was very supportive and encouraging in my decision to come to HDS, as was Chuck Wachtel, my mentor and advisor at NYU. I wouldn't be here without their support.

Bearing Witness

I didn’t think there was anything ethical about the literary world until I had the opportunity to take a poetry workshop with Jorie Graham last semester. The workshop was amazing, and completely changed my outlook on art and language and really everything. I'm slowly getting over my discomfort in regarding myself as poet. I would've quit writing if not for that workshop. I'm now starting to see writing as a moral activity.

I think my most worthwhile poems aren’t the ones that I purposefully sit down to write; they just sort of come. And often it’s through this emotionally charged rant. My workshop saw it as bearing witness. I was pointing out a classed segment of society—the literary world. There's this willful ignorance that's led to the unfortunate political situation that we’re in now, and the fact that I’m even referring to the situation now is in itself problematic because most of the problems that are being discussed now have always been issues. For example, years ago I wrote a novella that took place in an ICE facility near Brownsville, Texas. In the story, the facility was in a gutted former Walmart that had no walls, only chain link fences, and all the prisoners were children. Then two years later ICE actually built this facility.

I don’t think there’s anything supernatural about this story. To me, it's all just about paying attention and seeing certain patterns and adopting an absurdist sensibility. But this led me to realize that if there's a pattern in society that I'm picking up on, then perhaps writing about it becomes a moral imperative. That’s kind of how I see writing poetry and fiction. I'm fascinated with this element of prophecy in fiction. And apocalypse. Jorie stressed that apocalypse actually means an unveiling. Not just an end to things, but a revealing of truths.

I never did anything with the novella because it was actually really bad. My classmates and instructor were phenomenal, but I was too immature of a writer at the time. Now people keep telling me that if I went back to it, rewrote it, it would get published. But that’s just because it’s timely. I don’t know if I feel comfortable doing that. I don’t want to give this false impression that illusions of representation, and bearing witness to the suffering of others, and simply pointing out injustice—that this all somehow absolves writers and publishers from the evils of society. And I think if the publishing world wasn't interested in this topic back then, in a few years it probably won’t be interested in it anymore. But the problem isn't going anywhere. If that’s the case then maybe we have a moral obligation, especially being in a position of privilege, to always and consistently be critical of ourselves and the powers that be, no matter who they are. The suffering that exists on their watch is ultimately suffering that exists on our behalf. We are all complicit in that.

Returning to Society

I would like to apply to PhD programs and see how that pans out. In any case, I would love to teach. That’s one thing that I discovered at NYU—that I love teaching. It doesn’t matter if it’s at a university or a high school. I'd like to mentor young writers. Shout out to the young artists and translators at Still Waters in a Storm in Bushwick, Brooklyn. They taught me how to be a better listener and to pay better attention to the world. That's probably the most important skill for a writer.

Ever since I was little I did nothing but read, and I always think, what’s the point of acquiring knowledge if you’re not going to share it and exchange it or try to dissect it with the help of others? It reminds me of the prologue to Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra, where Zarathustra says that he's meditated alone for so many years that his mind has grown heavy from his thoughts. He needs to return to society to share them. Can't just hide in the library anymore.

Interview and photos by Anaïs Garvanian

#harvard #harvard divinity school #religion #chicago #literature #nyu #reading #mexico #philosophy #large

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anythingstephenking · 3 years

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Scooby Snacks

Based on miscellaneous pop culture cannon, I feel like the “I came of age at my summer job at an amusement park” is an experience I really missed out on. If only I had lived closer to Canobie Lake Park maybe I could have been one of those kids. I’m tucking Joyland into the same category as Adventureland and Class Action Park, although this one has a ghost in addition to young boys losing their virginity.

I loved Joyland. Another volume in the Hard Case Crime imprint (like The Colorado Kid before it and Later, well, later), it doesn’t read like “stereotypical King”, in the best way possible. It reads like a trashy beach mystery whodunit, but with complex, well written characters you fall in love with. And based partially on aforementioned Canobie Lake, a New Hampshire amusement park whose “caterpillar” ride gave me lice in the third grade. True story.

What we have to chew on here is a page-turning-mystery. Our hero (we finally get a good guy after the miserable dickholes of Full Dark, No Stars) is named Devin and he’s just a lil peanut. He’s 21, but not a frat-boy 21, so he’s cool. He rolls down to North Carolina for a summer job at Joyland, running from a failed romance with his college sweetheart, Wendy. She’s not a factor in this book, but worth noting that she will give Devin a lil handy, but not the full monty. In college after dating for over a year! Wendy, girl. You should read Thinner and learn what handies can cause.

Devin settles in at a cute little beachside rooming house - his new landlady makes him a grilled cheese and I’m just sitting here thinking, mmmmm grilled cheese. He’s got new friends working at the park named Tom and Erin (who couple off real quick) and turns out the park is haunted because a woman was murdered there 4 or 5 years ago.

One of my favorite characters is Rozzie, a Brooklyn Jew who plays Romanian as a fortune teller at the park. She’s totally full of shit, but she’s got a few real prophesies for Dev, one that includes a boy and a dog.

Dev meets the boy with a dog while walking on the beach, along with his mega-hot mom, Annie. She’s 32 (cougar alert!) and a pretty rad lady. She escaped her southern religious family, including fire-and-brimstone preacher father, to go off to school and burn her bras. You go Annie. Her son is born with MS, which Annie’s father tells her is because of her lifestyle choices. Boo and fuck right off, Annie’s dad.

Dev and Annie have a very compelling little love story, and she takes his v-card, and we don’t get any awful descriptions of their love making like in 11/22/63, and for that I am thankful.

Eventually we learn who the killer is (who is actually a serial killer), the ghost of the park is released, and Dev ends his story as an old man, looking back on that crazy summer he had in his 20s at a North Carolina amusement park.

Ok seriously, there is a dog, a team of crime solving youngsters, and a big-fake out reveal of the killer. The fact that he didn’t say “and I would have gotten away with it if it wasn’t for you kids!” was a true missed opportunity.

It only took me a night or two to crush this story. I had a lot of fun. Doctor Sleep is next!

9/10

First Line: I had a car, but on most days in the fall of 1973 I walked to Joyland from Mrs. Shoplaw’s Beachside Accommodations in the town of Heaven’s Bay.

Last Line: I wanted to see that, too.

Adaptations:

A TV adaptation has been in the works at Freeform since 2018 but I don’t see any recent updates on production. I’m too old to watch Freeform shows but that doesn’t stop me! Will keep my fingies crossed.

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medievalproject · 3 years

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An Atheist obsessed with religion

For some reason and for as early as I can remember the idea of religion has fascinated me. I grew up in a secular Jewish home but there was no religion involved beyond my grandma’s stuffed cabbage or a good bagel with lox, lighting menorahs and the Seder meal. I questioned why friend’s had bar and bat mitzvah’s so much that made my parents send me to Hebrew school so I could see what it was all about. I liked learning Hebrew and hearing weird stories but it wasn’t for me. I just didn’t get the God part and I never looked back. So I knew I was an atheist and most of my friends were, even going through with Hebrew school. They were just doing what their parents had done and keeping that tradition. So I read more about religion through history books because it has never ceased to amaze me how some people just believe in it. I’ve always been most fascinated by Christianity and Catholicism in particular. I think I realized over time that it had a lot to do with the concept of Hell and all the institutions and ways the Catholic Church created to keep you fearing it and also needing them as a intermediary to your salvation.

At some point I learned you could ‘sell your soul to the Devil” and I thought that was extremely scary. Was there a Hell?

Jews didn’t talk about Heaven or Hell. Jews lived for this life. Judaism, if you break it down to its core, is really about a foundation, a set of principles or rules to live life. The concept that there is no next life, no focus on the next life, this is the one you’ve got- I always thought was freeing. You didn’t have to worry about anything else just now. That’s not to say you could be a bad person, but if you were or did something wrong, you are obligated to seek forgiveness from the person you wronged - God has no place in this. It’s about human connection, being a productive member of society, a good person. The thing I love about Judaism is you don’t even need to believe in God to be Jewish.

In Christianity and Catholicism, in particular, there is so much emphasis on the afterlife and asking God for forgiveness when he already died for you. I think it’s an excellent marketing strategy to keep people complacent about their suffering in this life, and constantly filling indebted to something for being someone who ma make bad choices that would send themselves to Hell. If you’re promised any amount of time in heaven, (of course, once you’re completed your time in purgatory), you might accept things you wouldn’t have to accept if you thought- THIS IS IT.

On top of all the Heaven and Hell, Christianity set itself apart from Judaism in a number of ways. The two most interesting ways to me are:

1. Christianity is a proselytizing religion - spread the good word!

This concept is truly strange to me when it comes to religion. I think it’s because growing up even as an assimilated Jew, you knew that there were very few Jews in the world. I know that it just seemed like a lot because I happened to be born in Brooklyn, NY. But also, Jews do no such out reach. Jews have been a minority religion for thousands of years. Christianity and Islam came out of Judaism and unlike Jews, their religions believe that in order to achieve salvation you have to make it to Heaven.

And that promise of an after-life would be Christianity’s marketing message. The platform would be the official religion of the Holy Roman Empire (380 CE). This one event is crucial to Christianity’s survival and spread. Conquered lands accept the religion of their conquerors or face persecution (Judaism never had this sort of political upper hand but maybe things would have been different, who knows!) and Christianity would spread throughout Europe and by the Middle Ages nearly all of Europe would be Christian.

Now combined with the my second favorite way Christianity is different from Judaism(!) would foster the creation of the greatest marketing campaign created IMO: take Jesus as your Savior, your salvation or go to Hell and here are pictures are your soul burning eternally!

2. They are cool with depicting God, bring in forms of idolatry and the veneration of images of God

As the only monotheistic religion at the time to allow God to be represented in any form, you can win over a whole illiterate population with amazing, horrific, awe inspiring images to dominate your thoughts.

Just think about all the facades of churches, all the paintings, sculptures, stained glass windows that remind you that Christ died for your sins and you can either follow God and be good and get to Heaven or go against the teachings of God and burn in Hell.

So I’ve been fascinated with the images of Devils and demons and hellscapes and hellmouths and monstrous motifs for this very reason. It’s so vastly different from Judaism.

#hell #afterlife #christianity

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bestgraffitiremovalproductsicjp7 · 3 years

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bestgraffitiremovalproductsepwa0 · 3 years

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A minimum of 2 Starbucks, 5 banks and a Duane Reade had their windows busted, triggering an approximated $100,000 in damage. Graffiti artist SAME, genuine name Christopher Johnson, died at age 39. Ready to individualize and share in Facebook and Twitter. The first graffiti message was spotted on a wall at a Annadale underpass.

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This book firmly establishes Queens' place in the history of style writing. It's complimentary to download but donations are welcome. Of the various New York City street art collections, one that genuinely stands out is the Bushwick Collective in Brooklyn, an amalgamation of street art and graffiti that stretches throughout numerous blocks of a semi-deserted commercial neighborhood.

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reprisedpiece · 7 years

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Theatre Nerd

Pairing: Connor Murphy x Broadway!Reader

Warning: curse words (as usual)

Request: “do a broadwaystar!reader where Connor have a celeb crush on her and somehow they’re dating”

Word Count: 2074

Note: idrk where the plot of deh is set?? i dont think it was ever mentioned but idk. just pretend deh was set in new york. i dont really know but hey i love theatre nerd connor let’s focus on that

MASTERLIST

If people had to give three words to associate Connor Murphy with, it would be the following – weird, freak, weed. That was how people saw Connor. He has always been confined within the bounds of those three words ever since high school started.

But what they didn’t know about Connor Murphy, the world-class freak from who allegedly threw a printer at a teacher, was a huge theatre fan.

Everyone saw him in the same outfit. It was always the same thing. Black jacket, black jeans, black combat boots, and black earphones.

Teachers and students always assumed that he was listening to metal songs. Some students even thought that he was listening to all sorts of Satanic songs. All because that’s how they stereotyped him.

Well, they were all wrong. In reality, Connor was simply listening to different Broadway recordings. Sure, he listened to other kinds of songs but Broadway recordings have always been his favorite.

No one would expect a boy like him to listen to such genre, let alone smoke weed to Sante Fe from Newsies when he felt sad.

What’s even more shocking was that he was dating you, a renowned Broadway star since birth.

Actually, he wasn’t even sure if he should classify what the two of you had as “dating”. He didn’t know if you see him the same way he sees you, which is full of adoration. All he knew for sure was that he had a massive crush on you.

Sure, you’ve shared a kiss or two. You also have kissed him on the cheek whenever he was feeling too enraged with his father. But the two of you haven’t explicitly told each other how you felt for one another.

Despite not knowing the label for your relationship, you were definitely very close friends.

The two of you met when you were still part of the ensemble for Hamilton. You were standing on the side during a Ham4Ham show when someone bumped your shoulder.

“Fuck, sorry. Some asshole is forcing his way in front and it’s annoying.” He apologized, mumbling the last part to himself.

You smiled. “No worries,” You looked at the tall boy beside you. You giggled at the sight of a tall boy with black-painted nails and a leather jacket standing amidst a crowd. “So, are you watching the show?”

“My sister is. Her annoying friends invited her.” He responded, taking sneaky glances at your direction.

You didn’t think he knew you but you were wrong. Connor had admired you since before your chance encounter. Of course, you didn’t know that. If he was forced to name a famous or celebrity crush, he’d say your name in a heartbeat.

“Oh, I see. You should come see it. It’s pretty amazing.”

He cracked a small grin. “I’m sure it is.”

It started there. It was no denying that the two of you are incredibly close.

And by close, that included a Connor Murphy lying down on your bed.

Despite knowing each other for a year now, you didn’t know much about him. He knew all kinds of stories about you but he still remained to be a very closed person. You didn’t want to pry too much as you didn’t want him to be upset.

So here you were. You still remained clueless on his love for you for Broadway.

That all ended today.

He was softly singing “Four Jews in a Room Bitching” from Falsettos. You were in the bathroom, taking a shower and oblivious to what was happening in your room.

Connor has been listening to the album for a week now. He enjoyed the kind of humor that was observed in the musical.

He was staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars that you stuck up your ceiling from before as he continued.

“Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, all the time.” He sang, his fingers tapping on his beat to the rhythm of the song.

“Oooh, whadda they do for love?” You suddenly singing back. Connor immediately shut his mouth, snapping his head towards your direction.

You got out of the shower, still drying your hair with a towel. He stared at you with awe as he saw you walk out with your baggy “Annie” merchandise shirt and some shorts. He still couldn’t believe he got to meet someone like you, a person whose personality didn’t exactly match his own.

“I didn’t know you knew Falsettos,” You giggled, plopping down beside him. “Are you a closeted musical nerd?”

Connor grew defensive. “Fuck, no. Why would I?” He scoffed, standing up and leaving you alone on your bed.

“Uhm, you’re in a room of a Broadway performer?” You pointed out, laughing quietly.

He glared at you. “Tell me, please.” You begged, pouting your lips a bit for the puppy-dog eye effect. That made Connor’s knees weak.

“Okay, maybe I am.” He sat back down in defeat. “But don’t you fucking dare tell Zoe. She’s never going to let that shit down.” He grumbled.

“I would never!” You acted with fake shock, pushing your own hand against your chest. “I say we put your musical knowledge to the test.”

He groaned. “C'mon! Just to really know how big of a nerd you are.” You say, punching his shoulder lightly.

He began leaning back, attempting to lie back down on the bed. He was expecting to feel the soft bedsheets but instead, his head hit the edge of your knee. He mumbled an apology, trying to scoot down. Instead, you got a hold of his head and softly pulled him towards you so he can prop his head on your lap.

Connor scooted up to do just that, blushing a bit. “Fine. But you owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever you want.” You said quickly. “I’ll sing a song and you can sing the next part!”

“What the fuck, no. This is not ‘American Idol’ and you’re not Ryan Seacrest. You didn’t say anything about singing,” He tried getting up before pushing him back onto your lap.

“Jeez, fine. Just give me the title then.”

“Argh, okay. Let’s get this over with.” You said, running your fingers through his locks.

“Let’s start with easy ones.” He simply hummed in response.

“Whenever I see someone less fortunate than I, and let’s face it, who isn’t? Less fortunate than I. My tender heart tends to start to bleed. And when someone needs-”

Connor mumbled a response.

“What was that?” You asked, leaning the side of your head towards him so you can hear him. It took a lot for Connor to not kiss your cheek right then and there.

“It’s Popular from Wicked, right?” He said, letting his lips ghost over your cheek. You only hoped for him to kiss you there.

“Ding, ding ding! Okay, how about this?“ You sat up straight. ”One day more. Another day, another destiny.” You sang, channeling your inner Valjean.

His eyebrows furrowed. “You literally just said the title, Y/N. It’s One Day More. Damn, that was easy.” You let one of your hands move to his face, pinching his nose.

“Ouch!” He exclaimed, removing your hand from his face.

“Alright, I’ll make it harder.”

Still holding your hand, he couldn’t help but press a kiss onto your knuckles. “Sure, whatever.” You let a grin spread on your face.

“Pop, Six, Squish, Uh-Uh, Cicero, Lipschitz! He had it coming, he had it coming, he only had himself to bl-” You sang, each word rolling off your tongue with ease.

“It’s the Cell Block Tango.” Your eyes widened because you didn’t expect him to know such song.

When he saw your stare, he let go of your hand and his eyes widened. “I mean, I think so? That’s just a guess.”

“Mhmm, sure.” You hummed, braiding Connor’s hair.

He started chipping off some of the black polish on his nails. “Are we done?”

“Definitely not! Next song.“ You looked up, trying to think of another song.

"I got it! You gotta buy her rose, compliment her on her clothes. Say you appreciate that she’s smart. Nah man, you tell her that she excites you sexually. And that’s the way you get to her heart.”

“Voices in My Head?” He slowly crept his hand towards his hair, nudging it against one of your own.

You interlocked your fingers together. “You are impressing me, Connor. Okay, how about this? Meet me halfway. A touch and go of don’t know what to say, do we talk? Don’t expect too much, just walk.”

“Obviously it’s the one from Dogfight? First Date slash Last Night. Everyone knows that.” He answers.

“Actually, not everyone knows that.”

“Really? I though they did. It’s a wonderful song.” He mumbled to himself.

“Last one. Have no fear! You know we got your back from way back.” You sang loudly as that was probably one of your favorite songs.

You were surprised to hear Connor unconsciously sing the next part. “Brooklyn’s here! We’ll get your pay back and some payback.”

It was quiet but you definitely heard it.

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my god, I’m dating a theatre nerd.” You confirmed.

Connor suddenly sat up. “Dating?” Your eyes widened.

“I mean, I kind of thought we were. If we aren’t, that’s totally okay. I just-” You started rambling, waving your hands around in front of you as you tried to take back what you said.

"Shut up,” He spoke, making you silence yourself. “You’re starting to act like Evan for fuck’s sake.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Evan who?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He squeezed your hand. “I like the idea of us dating. I’ve already liked you for a long ass time.” He mumbled the last part to himself.

“You did?” You exclaimed a bit too excitedly as you caught what he said. “Since when?”

He blushed. “From one of your performances.”

“Which one?”

He groaned. “Do I really have to tell y-”

“Was it from Spring Awakening?” You cut him off.

“No.”

“What is when I was an ensemble for Hamilton?”

“Not exactly.”

You sighed in defeat. “Well, where then? Because those are the musicals I know you have watched, the ones where Cynthia dragged you to.“

You leaned against Connor’s shoulder, feeling him tense up at first before relaxing. "Unless, you know, you’ve watched Annie and never told me. ” You continued, pointing at your shirt.

You were expecting a snarky remark from Connor but he just stayed silent.

You felt your mouth curl into a smile. “You did not.”

"Shut up.”

“From there?” You giggled.

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N.”

“You really liked me since I played Annie?” You spoke, chucking as you do.

He turned his body away from you. “I’m sorry if a little kid like me watched and actually liked the show.’ He spoke loudly, taking your laughter the wrong way. “I’ll go, okay. Fuck, I have to pick up Zoe anyways-”

“Connor, relax! I find it sweet,” You grabbed his shoulder before he stood up, facing him towards you. “I just couldn’t believe you waited for so long.”

He held your hand once more. “I couldn’t believe you would date a freak like me. Have you even heard what people say about me in school?”

You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t give a damn about that. I care about this,” You said with a gentle voice, looking at your intertwined hands.

“I care about you.”

Looking down on his feet, he spoke. “You wouldn’t leave me for some handsome broadway guy? Someone less messed up?”

“Of course, not. I would never pass up the chance to be with the one and only Connor Murphy!” You answer, kissing the corner of his mouth.

He bit his lower lip yet a smile still managed to form on his face. “You’re cheesy as hell.”

“I am. But hey, let’s talk about how you sang that line from Newsies.“ You started.

“No.”

You stared at him, wiggling your eyebrows. “You’re a big fan, aren’t you?”

He scoffed. “No.”

“No, my ass. I bet Tommy Bracco is your goddamn idol.”

He stared at you. “Don’t get me started.”

#connor murphy #connor murphy imagine #connor murphy fic #connor murphy x reader #dear evan hansen #dear even hansen the musical #dear evan hansen imagine #dear evan hansen fic #deh #deh imagine #deh fic #deh x reader #mike faist #mike faist imagine #mike faist fic #mike faist x reader

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hetmusic · 5 years

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TMR TALKS TO... O MER | The Most Radicalist

In this interview feature, we get to know the most radicalist up and coming stars on the planet. This time we had a chat with Brooklyn-based Isralei musician O Mer. “All my dreams are rentals because I can’t afford my own” is a lyric from O Mer’s ‘Repack The Junk’ that truly encapsulates the essence of his songwriting. His optimism glimmers through the undeniable clouds of pessimism, although one could also call the latter pragmatism. His commentaries look at contemporary culture (be it politics or social media, as we hear in the aforementioned single), the environmental crisis is the focus of ‘The Flood’, and ‘Anthem’ considers how the praise of individuality is easily traded in for ticking boxes of who one “should” be. Each of O Mer’s tracks consciously examines the state of being human against a backdrop of evolved production that combines Middle Eastern patterns and scales, scorching rock chord progressions, soulful vocals, electronic samples, hearty bass and so much more. For this global citizen, he sees very little distinction between most of these genres and so the clever patchwork forms a language anew; one best to convey O Mer’s view of the world. Throughout the interview below we discuss the inspiration behind some of O Mer’s work, how life in Israel influenced his creativity, why he chose Brooklyn as his new home and what to look out for next from this unique talent.

TMR: We were really struck by 'Repack The Junk’, in which you oscillate between optimism and pessimism. Was this song inspired by recent events or something more internal? Both. This song is basically me taking a critical look at the way I internalized pop culture. I think a lot of the stories we tell ourselves about the way we go about our lives are hypocritical and I’m totally a part of the hypocrisy. The way many musicians (me included) incorporate their “brand” into the art making process to the extent where they are inseparable can be very confusing to me. I wanna be able to tell myself I’m free as an artist, but artistic freedom is full of uncertainty and in a sense “unbrandable”. TMR: Almost everything you record is then warped or affected by electronic production, when did you first begin experimenting with digital sounds? After hearing Kanye West’s ‘No Church In The Wild’, I realized there’s a freedom electronically manipulating sounds affords that is very hard (and expensive) to find elsewhere.

TMR: A rare acoustic moment arrived on your ‘Everything Is Everyone’s Fault’ with the title-track itself. Was it poignant to strip back the layers for this song?

Absolutely, this version of the song is the third version I made. The first one was orchestral with a very dense beat and the second was more groove oriented (which is ridiculous now that I think back on it). It took both of these failed versions for me to realize I wrote a good song that needs to be produced in as minimal a way as possible in order to really come through.

TMR: Where things really seemed to pick up steam for you was with the release of ‘Now I’m Alive’, does this track still holds a special place for you?

It is definitely one of my favorites to play live and I’m definitely proud of it, yet it’s not my favorite song that I wrote. I used to spend a long time trying to understand why it stood out the way it did and I think it has something to do with how simple and undeniable the message is, almost feels like I stole it…

TMR: Having previously lived in Israel, did you find that the proximity to Eastern and Western cultures has shaped the creative community in the country?

It most definitely did, not only the proximity but also that in the 20th century Jews came to Israel from all over. It’s probably why most Israeli musicians are very stylistically flexible (the marvelous Noga Erez is probably the best current example). TMR: Now you're based in Brooklyn, what drew you to that part of the world? I wanted to move to one of the bigger music scenes and see what it’d be like, Berlin felt to close, LA too far, and between London and Brooklyn, I knew more people living in Brooklyn so I moved there, it really was that naive and silly. TMR: Who's your favourite upcoming Brooklyn artist right now? altopalo, Psymone Spine and Sabine Holler. TMR: What should listeners, new and well-acquainted, look out for next from you? I’m working on new music all the time and am planning to jump back on the release wagon very quickly after this EP release. I’m also planning on shooting more live videos at home and maybe some band stuff, a bunch of people have been asking for those and I should be less lazy about it, maybe now that it’s in writing I can’t procrastinate no more?

http://www.themostradicalist.com/features/tmr-talks-to-o-mer/

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