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the-rewatch-rewind · 1 year

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New episode!

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Hello and welcome back to The Rewatch Rewind! My name is Jane, and this is the podcast where I count down my top 40 most frequently rewatched movies in the 20 years from 2003 through 2022. Today I will be discussing number 27 on my list: MGM’s 1949 courtroom comedy Adam’s Rib, directed by George Cukor, written by Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin, and starring Spencer Tracy, Katharine Hepburn, and Judy Holliday.

When housewife Doris Attinger (Judy Holliday) shoots her husband Warren (Tom Ewell) at the home of his lover Beryl Caighn (Jean Hagen), assistant district attorney Adam Bonner (Spencer Tracy) is assigned to prosecute her. Adam’s wife, defense attorney Amanda (Katharine Hepburn) is moved by Doris’s story and fed up with the double standard for men and women regarding adultery, so she decides to represent her. The tension in the courtroom leads to tension at home between the Bonners, which is further strained by their neighbor Kip (David Wayne), a musician who is very openly interested in Amanda.

I think this was the first Spencer Tracy/Katharine Hepburn movie I watched, but it was the sixth that they made together, out of nine total. Somehow this is the only one to make it into my top 40, although Pat and Mike was very close, with 14 views. Both Adam’s Rib and Pat and Mike were written specifically for Tracy and Hepburn, who were together in real life, by their friends Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin, who were married to each other, so it’s unsurprising that the stars and the scripts were perfectly suited for each other. And yes, I am talking about the same Ruth Gordon who was also an actress and won an Oscar for being delectably creepy in Rosemary’s Baby. Looking back on my viewing history of Adam’s Rib is very interesting to me: I watched it twice in 2003, once in 2004, and three times in 2005, then took a fairly long break and saw it again in 2009, then 2011, then another break until 2016, and then I watched it twice in 2018, once in 2019, once in 2020, twice in 2021, and three times in 2022. So I watched it a lot soon after I started keeping track, then hardly revisited it at all until the last five years I was tracking, when I watched it a lot again. This wasn’t a conscious decision so I’m not sure exactly why it happened, but I do know that there are things I appreciate about it now that I didn’t quite catch when I was younger, and I think I needed some time away from it to realize that.

There are two main reasons I enjoy this movie. One is that it’s very entertaining and funny, and the other is that it’s fascinating from a historical socio-political perspective. When I was younger, I mainly focused on the first reason, but more recently the second reason has particularly compelled me to keep rewatching. I’m definitely still there for the comedy though. Some of it is broad and over-the-top, such as the scene when a witness, who is also a female weightlifter, picks up Adam in the courtroom and lifts him over her head, but most of it is more understated. As I mentioned at the end of last episode, I’m pretty sure my favorite part of the whole movie is when Beryl Caighn is on the stand and says she heard a noise, and when Adam asks her to clarify what kind of a noise, she pauses for a moment and replies, “Like a sound.” That is so perfectly tailored to my sense of humor that I can’t believe that my parents weren’t even alive when it was written. Also I would like to acknowledge that this was Jean Hagen’s film debut, and while she doesn’t have much screentime, every moment of her performance is gold. (Jean Hagen is, of course, best remembered for playing Lina Lamont in Singin’ in the Rain three years later.)

Adam’s Rib was also an important steppingstone in Judy Holliday’s career. She was starring in Born Yesterday on Broadway (which was also written by Garson Kanin) but was relatively unknown in Hollywood and was initially not considered for the film adaptation. Her performance in Adam’s Rib convinced the producer of Born Yesterday to give her a screen test, and she ultimately got the part and won an Oscar for it. Katharine Hepburn in particular worked hard to get her recognized, asking director George Cukor to focus more on Holliday than on her in their shared scenes, and then leaking stories to the press about how Holliday’s performance was so fabulous it stole the spotlight from her and Spencer Tracy. This behavior is particularly surprising from Katharine Hepburn if you recall how competitive and envious she was when working with Ginger Rogers in Stage Door. Clearly she was far more mature and self-assured at this point in her career than she had been 12 years earlier. And she was also correct: Judy Holliday gave a fabulous performance in Adam’s Rib, and nobody else could have played her role as well as she did in Born Yesterday. She had such perfect comedic timing. My second favorite part of Adam’s Rib, after the “noise like a sound” exchange, is when Amanda is interviewing Doris in jail – which was the main scene that convinced the producer of Born Yesterday to consider casting Judy Holliday. The way Holliday just keeps talking every time Hepburn thinks she’s finished and is about to say something is brilliantly done. Apparently Holliday was trembling because she was so nervous to be working with Hepburn, but she managed to turn that into part of her character and it works perfectly. That scene also features Eve March as Amanda’s secretary Grace, whose snide remarks greatly add to the humor as well. Watching these three women masterfully turning a serious situation into comedy never gets old.

The character I’ve changed my mind about the most over the years is the neighbor Kip, played by David Wayne. Kip is the kind of guy who clearly thinks he’s the funniest person in the room, and when I watched this movie in my early teens, I was inclined to agree with him. I enjoyed his antics, and I felt bad for him when Adam was mean to him. But as I continued to rewatch this movie, he started to irritate me, and now I can barely stand him. Granted, I do still enjoy his song “Farewell Amanda,” which in real life was written by Cole Porter, although the way he just casually walks into a married couple’s apartment and sings a love song to one of them is so rude. In last week’s episode I talked about the trope of the married couple’s male friend who is interested in the wife, and Kip is one of the most obnoxious instances of that trope. He’s not anywhere near as funny or charming as he thinks he is. This isn’t meant as a criticism of the movie; I feel like he’s intentionally irritating, and he’s definitely important to the plot and the message of the film. But I do think that when I was watching this movie mainly for the comedy, realizing that I no longer found Kip funny was a big part of why I started rewatching it less frequently.

But what I’ve grown to appreciate more recently about this movie is how progressive it was for its time, and the fascinating way that it has aged because of that. Bear in mind that this movie was made in 1949, shortly after WWII, very much in the “women stay home and support your man and raise those boomer children” era. So it was quite bold of this movie to question gender roles, particularly in terms of the infidelity double standard. After Amanda reads about the shooting in the paper but before she has taken the case, she asks Grace what she thinks about a man who cheats on his wife, and Grace replies, “Not nice, but…” and shrugs. Then Amanda asks, “What about a wife who cheats on her husband?” and Grace says, “Something terrible!” When Amanda demands to know why there’s a difference, Grace protests, “I don’t make the rules!” And Amanda retorts, “Sure you do; we all do!” And I think that’s such an important point: even if you don’t agree with social norms, accepting them and perpetuating them is equivalent to endorsing them. Amanda decides to argue that if a man confronted his cheating wife with a gun, people would consider him to be justified, and there shouldn’t be any difference in this case just because the genders are swapped. Adam, on the other hand, argues that nobody has the right to just show up at somebody’s house and shoot them. And what’s so great about this conflict is that they’re both partly right and partly wrong. Amanda’s right that women shouldn’t be punished more harshly for cheating on their spouses than men are, but at the same time, that doesn’t mean everybody should go around shooting each other. And Adam’s right about that part, but he’s wrong in the way he dismisses his wife’s legitimate concerns and fails to recognize the effects of misogyny on society and on his marriage.

It is a little odd that Doris is charged with attempted murder instead of assault with a deadly weapon or something like that, but this way it’s easier to believe that she is found innocent. She definitely did commit assault, but it doesn’t seem like she really meant to kill anyone. I’m kind of surprised the censors allowed her to be acquitted, since my understanding of production codes is that crime couldn’t be shown to pay. I guess Warren getting shot was his punishment for cheating, so now they’re even? I want to know what happens to the Attingers after the trial – hopefully they get divorced and manage to find some happiness – but we don’t get to find out because ultimately the story isn’t about them; it’s about the Bonners. Adam has moved out after the whole weightlifter-picking-him-up episode, and Kip has started to attempt to take his place. After the trial, Amanda is at Kip’s apartment to go over a contract with him, but she’s distracted with worry about what’s going to happen to her marriage, and instead of listening and being a supportive friend, Kip decides it’s a good time to confess his love for her, using the irresistible line that he’s in love with her because she lives across the hall and it’s so convenient. And then Adam bursts in with a gun, and Amanda, terrified, says, “You have no right! Nobody has the right-” and then realizes what she’s saying. Satisfied, Adam reveals that the gun is actually made of licorice, and Amanda is furious, but it’s kind of the best possible outcome here: Doris doesn’t have to go to jail, but her actions are not being condoned, which I assume is what appeased the censors. And then later Adam demonstrates that men and women are truly equal by crying to get what he wants, which is…not great, but…I guess it’s good to challenge the stereotype that masculine men aren’t supposed to cry? It’s just not great to perpetuate the stereotype that women cry to manipulate men.

And that’s when you have to bear in mind that this movie is 74 years old. In addition to outdated gender role assumptions, there’s some weird body shaming and normalization of domestic violence that is very uncomfortable. But on the whole, it does a pretty good job of supporting women standing up for themselves in a post-WWII, pre-second-wave feminism America. Also, in a time when pretty much the only non-white characters in mainstream Hollywood movies were servants, it is worth noting that there are some people of color in the background of Adam’s Rib. There’s a black man on the jury, and when Amanda brings in a bunch of witnesses to demonstrate that women are equal to men, there are a few women of color in the crowd. Granted, when the judge rules that only three are allowed to testify, all three are white women, and the juror doesn’t get to speak either, but the representation bar was so low that even this tiny amount of racial diversity among the extras feels noteworthy.

While I’m pretty sure it wasn’t intentional, this movie also shows the harms of amatonormativity, and possibly even heteronormativity. Doris and Warren certainly should not have gotten married, but amatonormativity told them that that was the life they should want. When Warren is on the witness stand, Adam asks him why he married Doris, and Warren responds, “How should I know? Why did you marry yours? Does anybody know?” The assumption that everybody wants and needs a long-term monogamous romantic and sexual relationship leads to so many incredibly dysfunctional marriages that the people trapped in them think they’re not only normal, but universal, and that’s a problem. Nobody should feel like they have to marry someone they can barely stand just to have a partner. And speaking of people I can barely stand, let’s go back to Kip. While I don’t like him as a character, I do find it interesting that he’s kind of queer-coded, and Adam in particular mocks him for being effeminate, yet he pursues and tries to seduce Amanda. Of course, being a rather effeminate man and being attracted to women are not mutually exclusive, but it does feel a bit like he’s going after Amanda because he thinks that’s what he’s supposed to do. I mean, he says he’s into her because she’s his neighbor and it’s convenient – not exactly the most convincing display of attraction. When Amanda finally understands what Kip is saying, she has this great line: “Now, you look here, Kip. I’m fighting my prejudices, but it’s clear that you’re behaving like a, like a – well, I hate to put it this way, but like a man!” – meaning in the entitled to women’s attention and bodies sense of the word. Which, as someone whose masculinity has been repeatedly called into question, is probably what he was going for. I can’t really blame him for struggling to figure out how to perform gender in a way that’s socially acceptable, but that’s not an excuse for being a jerk who refuses to take no for an answer. As Amanda pointed out earlier, we all make the rules. The only way to overthrow harmful norms is to refuse to perpetuate them. So to summarize what we’ve learned: only get married if you want to, not because you think you should; if you find out your spouse is cheating, either work it out or get divorced, but don’t shoot them; and listened to your married neighbor when she says she doesn’t want to have an affair with you.

If this movie sounds kind of weird, that’s because it is, but the true story that inspired it is, if anything, even weirder. When actors Raymond Massey and Adrienne Allen got divorced, they were represented by husband-and-wife lawyers William Dwight Whitney and Dorothy Whitney, who then divorced each other to each marry their client from that case. Garson Kanin and Ruth Gordon then took the idea of married lawyers on opposite sides of a trial and turned it into Adam’s Rib. While the acting is fabulous, ultimately the script is the best part of this movie, and it was even nominated for an Oscar, which has always been unusual for comedies. While in some ways this movie presents a cynical view of marriage, it is worth noting that Kanin and Gordon’s lasted for 43 years until her death in 1985 and seems to have been a relatively happy one. They were clearly both very talented writers, and I think the film’s commentary on gender roles greatly benefitted from having a man and a woman working on it together. Gender roles have changed a bit in the decades since this movie was made, so from that perspective it feels a bit outdated, but it definitely makes some important points that are still relevant. And if nothing else, the script is clever and the performances are captivating.

Thank you for listening to my analysis of another of my most rewatched movies. I appreciate those of you who have stuck with me through this stretch of relatively obscure older films. If you’ve been enjoying hearing about them, don’t worry, there will be plenty more, but if you’re ready for a break, good news: the next movie was made in the 21st century, and you’ve probably at least heard of it! As always, I will leave you with a quote from that next movie: “I haven’t slept with hundreds of men.”

#adam's rib #katharine hepburn #spencer tracy #judy holliday #garson kanin #ruth gordon #jean hagen #old hollywood #the rewatch rewind

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the-wee-sensitive-listener · 1 year

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I think I need Therapy

Lesley Gallacher Dec 2022

Reflections on my original sound composition responding to the theme of identity and space.

A sense of place is dependent upon one’s unique standpoint (Anderson, 2020). In sound art it is used to describe the relationship between a person and their external sound space. What would it look like if we included the therapeutic concept of inner voice as a perceived sound space? Oliveros work emphasises the importance of the equality of sound spaces, where voice, instruments and performance are given equitable value. Including all dynamics of space helps to unveil hidden power dynamics that are socially ascribed onto our embodied space. As individuals we create and bring meaning to our social space based upon our unique identities and differences. Discourses not language influence our sense of place by an ever-shifting internalisation of social, political, and historical systems of knowledge and power (Foucault, 1980).

This sound art piece uses field recording, sound effects and composes of several contrasting voices. One voice element consists of a more serious psychoeducational sounding and attempts to situate the listener as a participant for new information. It engages the listeners’ spatial and visual mental imagery and embodiment (Forcucci, 2018), with a new sound space of inner voice. The other voice elements are composed in a playful repetition, establishing the therapeutic concept of self-talk and inner voice. Demonstrating its intrusiveness, its omnipresence, its unavoidable contribution to sound spaces. The human inner voice is an unacknowledged powerful influence on sense of identity and sonic space and an important site of diversity space. Our inner voices are the influences from the deeper parts to us, the judgements, the identity differences, the mental health fluctuations, and differences in emotional processes. I played with the method of contrapuntal melody, repetition, and rhyme, where multiple voices independent of each other were composed into a new harmonic sound. The methodology was fun and interactive.

In practical terms I invited people to record themselves saying, “I think I need therapy” and “I think I might do”. Some participant’s reinterpreted this, brought humour and used different words and some sang these words. I added these voices to the two educational voice recordings I had written and directed about inner voice. I then added field recordings sounds to change the pace, add humour, narrate a scene, add time element and to set the tone. I used binaural beats alpha rhythm 7 hz a natural brain rhythm is the subconscious creative state. I wanted to add a hypnotic and relaxed element. The sound of an antique film projector was used for material simplicity a sound that was known and relatable. I used it as a way of telling a story and of inspiring visual imagery, memory to engage the listeners perception and senses. I drew from Oliveros idea that human listening, perception, memory is affected by time delays. In Garage band, I gestured to this by applying, rewind, reversed reflections and reverb using long vibrational springs and distortion sound effects. I switched compressor off, used reverb and ambience on full and equalled out frequency and cut. These techniques were used to provide an inescapable always present never ending quality to one’s inner voice. I kept in several gaps and deliberately had quick change of volume and tone in parts to emphasise we are not always in control of what we say to ourselves.

In therapy, one learns that our minds and belief systems are already socially constructed by our cultural place in the world, especially influenced by the early perception of our environment. For example our inner world is affected initially by our parents-caregivers. The first part of our inner world consists of our internalising our parents' inner voices. Then as we grow up the inner battle begins; between our own emerging culturally shaped individual thoughts-beliefs snd identities and our internalised parents. We go through, an internal deconstruction process, a reexamination of our internalised parental beliefs. I’m interested in this process, which of course can be extended to outer societal influences. Our voices, sounds and the words we speak to ourselves have an important role and a natural healing potential. My exploration into sound arts involves finding new ways to help people heal themselves.

Anderson, E, (2020) "Feminist Epistemology and Philosophy of Science", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Spring 2020 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.). URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/spr2020/entries/feminism-epistemology/>. Accessed on 5/10/22

Forcucci, L. (2018). Music for Brainwaves: Embodiment of Sound, Space and EEG Data. Body, Space & Technology 17(1): p76–94).

Foucault, M., (1980) Power and Knowledge: Selected interviews and other writings. Brington: Harvester.

Oliveros, P., (1974) Sonic meditations (Vol. 7). Baltimore, MD: Smith publications.

Oliveros, P., (2005) Deep listening: A composer's sound practice. IUniverse. Oliveros, P., (2002) Quantum listening: From practice to theory (to practice practice). Culture and Humanity in the New Millennium: The Future of Human Values, pp.27-41.

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telugunewsonline · 3 years

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Rewind 2020: Political Highlights 2020 | Indian Political News 2020

#indian political news 2020 #political news highlights 2020 #rewind 2020 political news #special story on politics 2020

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lnterjection · 3 years

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Sleepy Bois Inc and DSMP Fanfic Recs

Uhhh I realized I have a ton of stuff in my bookmarks list and might as well compile a list of favorites because I’m always looking for good fanfics, and this might help some people. Most of these are SBI, though a few focus on things other than their dynamic with each other. Nothing explicit here. Feel free to suggest more recs.

Fics set in DSMP universe/about DSMP (One-shots first, then longer fics):

One-shots and series of one-shots-

therein lies the madness by sapphicist - 2095 words. Currently says it’s one chapter out of three complete, but can be read as a standalone one-shot. Nice introspective fic on Tommy’s exile and his parallels with Theseus. In 2nd person, but it’s actually done nicely. Mostly angsty, can have hopeful interpretation depending on how you look at it.

crazy how life goes on without me (2090 words, one-shot) by itisjosh - What if Ghostbur did remember everything, and just pretended to be clueless and vapid? Made me cry. It’s so good. Tortured my heart.

the inner mechanism of a black box (13521 words, one-shot) by Bee_4 - only work of a series called “system theory”. “Technoblade lets himself get imprisoned for Philza’s sake. He doesn’t plan on being there long. Unfortunately, he’s underestimated Pandora’s Vault. There are things that will make even the Blade fall apart in due time, as it turns out.” Yeah so Techno’s mental health goes out the window in this one and its written brilliantly. There’s comfort at the end, if it helps?

A State For One Man Is No State At All (5247 words, two-shot) by angstfortheangstgod - “A different version of the festival, in which Dream shows up unarmed, the Community House is left intact, a traitor is executed, and Tommy doesn't betray Technoblade.” Ranboo centric. Angst and comfort.

All the Kings Men series by MollyPollyKinz - “After Ghostbur's suggestion to do Lads on Tour, Tommy finds himself reunited with his family. However, escaping from Dream is going to be harder than anyone previously thought.” A connected series of one-shots and short fics about Tommy, his exile, his family, and escaping Dream. Well written, good characterization, great studies into the characters themselves.

ad astra per aspera series by cacowhistle - Collection of one-shots that start with Tommy’s exile and expand to be about SBI and their dynamic with each other, including a resurrected Wilbur. Really, really well written and probably my favorite of the “Tommy exile fic groups”.

the fall of a hero series by cracklesnaple - “After being threatened with being exiled yet again, Tommy takes the decision into his own hands. If those around him can't see that he's given up everything to make this nation what it is, then he's not sure he can stay in L'Manburg any longer.” Series about SBI and mainly Tommy, eventually crossing over into Mianite territory in a way some might enjoy and some might now. Writing’s good, though, which is what I care about.

Longer fics-

Rewind (101002 words, 25 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 17 2021) by Anonymous - Best time travel fix-it fic I’ve ever read period. Tubbo and Tommy travel 10 years back from a very messed up future to the first L’Manberg election. Concept may seen a bit weird at first but trust me, holy fuck this is amazing.

second chances (hurt the most) (8841 words, 4 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 17 2021) by Anonymous - “Wilbur wakes up alone in a bloody room, and has to come to terms with living again. (How can he go on, knowing who's blood is on his hands?)”. Amazing fic where resurrection requires someone else’s life as sacrifice. Phil is dead. Wilbur struggles to come to terms with his father’s decision, and his second chance.

all scotch, no soda (47466 words, 43 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 14 2021) by fishstixx - “Vulnerability meant trust, though, and trust was a thing not so easily given. Post-exile and canon divergent, follows the consequences of Tommy’s isolation. Expect chases, heists, bloodshed, and the mending of a family.” Features raccon hybrid Tommy being badass, and I live for it. I really, really love this one.

DON’T FORGET THAT ICARUS FLEW. (16426 words, 6/10 chapters, last updated Jan 1. 2021) by orpheusaki - “The day before and the days that follow Tommy's exile; told through the eyes of The Blood God.” Techno (and Dream) is a god, and gods often forget how the intricacies of the minds of mortals. He’s trying to get better, however.

what do you fall for? (16374 words, complete) by tablrcloth - Ranboo centric fic with Techno, Phil and Tommy. Ranboo realizes that playing L’Manberg’s politics is less than ideal for him. What can I say, it’s just really good.

Breathing’s Just a Rhythm (12631 words, 6 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 17 2021) by MollyPollyKinz - “Tommy, Tubbo, Jschlatt, and Dream all end up in the past. (Oh, and the Chat comes too).” Great time travel fic.

What World Have We Inherited? (73635 words, 12 chapters, unfinished and last updated on Dec 22 2020) by Anonymous (this one has a series with all their works, and they’re all AMAZING). Holy fuck this one is probably one of my favorite fics in the fandom so far. “Wilbur blows everything to hell on the day of the Manburg festival, just like he wanted. When the ashes settle, it's just Tommy and Technoblade. It's not good, but it's better than nothing. It's just them, healing up in a world that never wanted them.” Amazing characterization, worldbuilding, everyone’s internal thoughts are portrayed and written so well. Even if it never updates again I would keep coming back to it. I rec this Anon’s works so much.

In June, I Changed My Tune (29489 words, 6 chapters, unfinished and last updated on Jan 6 2021) by KryOnBlock - Eret runs away and eventually becomes friends with Techno. Nice cottagecore aesthetic. I have mixed feelings about this one - the writing’s good, descriptions and characterizations are really good. Just that there’s consistent punctuation mistakes and it takes me out of the world a bit. Everything else is good enough for me to continue reading, however.

stay with him (24353 words, 12 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 9 2021) by junipersand - I especially rec the first chapter, which can be read (and originally was) a standalone fic with the summary “Every ghost had a purpose to fulfill. So what was Tommy’s?” Utterly heartwrenching, probably the most emotionally gut-punching bit of writing I’ve ever read in this fandom. It continues with other lore stuff afterwards that eventually branch off from just SBI and Tommy, but man. I don’t think I can ever forget that first chapter.

I’m not angry at you, well, sometimes I am (52801 words, 16 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 14 2021) by sircantus - After Tommy is exiled, he runs away to Techno’s house instead of going off with Dream. SBI decide some revenge and “world domination” is in order.

Fics set in AUs outside DSMP happenings:

One-shots and series of one-shots-

Empty Crowns AU by UnderUrsa - the SBI + Tubbo are gods, and a family. Series of one-shots. Nicely written, what can I say? Some angst, some fluff.

Secure, Contain, Protect AU by blue000jay - Amazingly written SCP AU. Knowledge of the SCP universe would help with understanding some more meta things, but is not needed to understand most of it. Some angst, disturbing themes around memories but nothing terribly gory.

CLASSIFIEDS. (13804 words, finished). SCP pages on SBI, short stories and audio transcriptions as well as files, lots of good lorebuilding here. Features an escape, + Tubbo!

CONFIDENTIALS. (13232 words, finished). Centers on Dream Team.

ARCHIVES. (1270 words, one-shot). What happened after SBI and Tubbo’s escape from the SCP foundation.

old gods (new gods) AU by WriterWinged - the relatively well known SBI gods AU. Amazingly written, great character interpretations.

the gods are cruel (none crueler then you) (1394 words, one-shot) - As much the grammatical mistake in the title hurts me it’s no doubt one of the best pieces of work in the fandom.

and yet they find kindness (and so do you) (2/4 chapters posted) - continuation of “the gods are cruel”.

there’s a risk to the world (but the kindest are strongest) (2/3 chapters posted) - continuation of “the gods are cruel”.

SBI Antarctic Princes AU by ScripWriter - One of several Antarctic Empire AUs, this one just has these two preliminary one-shots but they’re nice bits of fun and neatly written. All fluff and mild hurt with lots of comfort so far.

Younger Holding On Another (1781 words, one-shot). Techno is a good brother and reassures and newly adopted Tommy.

But Oh, Don’t You Know How It Goes (2511 words. one-shot). Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur have some “fun” at a boring gala. Phil is very exasperated.

Antarctic Princes ‘verse AU by BirchWrites - AU where Techno, Tommy, and Wilbur are princes of the Antarctic Empire (well, Techno’s technically the emperor now), but this time the events of DSMP still happen (at least up to the 1st season).

Homeward bound for the arctic ground (10562 words, one-shot). Wilbur and Tommy travel to the Antarctic Empire in person to ask Techno for help in fighting Schlatt. Good worldbuilding and acknowledges Wilbur’s beginnings of insanity while still being rather light.

Surprise Hugs (2542 words, one-shot). Dream doesn’t realize Tommy is Techno’s brother and thinks he’s going to get killed for tackling the infamous Blood God.

Family Reunions (1396 words, one-shot). Fundy never realized he’s loyalty and Techno informs him unexpectedly.

Longer fics-

leave me your starlight (14620 words, 4 chapters, unfinished and last updated Jan 11 2021) by findingkairos - “Once upon a time, Philza Minecraft is the only person who does not shy away from the bloody teen that regularly turns the tide of war. This cements a friendship that will last wars, empires, worlds, and lifetimes.“ Amazing backstory fic on Phil and Techno’s relationships, one of my absolute personal favorites. Very well written and really digs into the intricacies of Techno’s character (or an interpretation of it, but hey, that’s what all fanfiction is).

I was a kid in a village, doing alright, then I became a prince overnight (21736 words, 5 chapters, last updated Jan 13 2021) by sircantus - another Antarctic princes AU, this time centering on 16 year old Tommy catching the attention of Phil, Techno, and Wilbur after thwarting an assassination attempt. Really well written. Actually, I rec all of sircantus’ SBI stuff because they do amazing work.

antarctic adage (26591 words, 4/7 chapters posted, last updated Jan 13 2021) by blue000jay - Another very well written Antarctic princes AU with Emperor/ruler Phil. Are we seeing a pattern yet? blue000jay is another writer I’d rec, with really great SBI stuff.

a renewal of faith, and of family (56684 words, 31 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 13 2021) by SolivangantStories - One of the only fics here that doesn’t feature SBI, this one is Tubbo and Dream centered. Basically, the DSMP!Tubbo is executed by Schlatt and wakes up in a world where Manhunt!Dream is trying not to die and is also actually a nice person, to Tubbo’s surprise and confusion. Not SBI and technically not even DSMP, but it’s really good so I’ve decided to rec it anyway.

#dream smp #sleepy bois inc #sbi #fanfiction #fanfic recs #dsmp #technoblade #wilbur soot #philza #tommyinnit #tubbo #dream #ranboo #feel free to suggest more recs #sbi fanfic recs #sbi fanfic

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antoine-roquentin · 3 years

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This is very personal post. It is my story of the retaliation I suffered immediately after my “economics is a disgrace” blog post went viral. The retaliation came from Heather Boushey–a recent Biden appointee to the Council of Economic Adviser and the President and CEO of Equitable Growth where I then worked. This is not the story I wanted to be telling (or living). Writing this post is painful. I am sorry....

On July 30 the day after my “economics is a disgrace” post went viral my boss, Amanda Fischer, who reports to Heather (and the Vice-President, Casey Schoeneberger) and is also on Biden’s transition team, told me that my post had “put Heather in a difficult position and put the reputation of Equitable Growth at risk.” What? My heartfelt personal blog post calling out the toxic, exclusive environment in economics hurt Equitable Growth’s reputation? How was that a risk to a person and an organization promoting equality in the economy? I told them it was never my intent to harm Heather or Equitable Growth, and I would begin to look for a new job.

The next day I was told to submit my formal resignation and leave by August 31. I was in shock. My blog post was a plea for more a diverse and inclusive economics. I called out elite men in the profession whose words and actions for decades had propagated sexism, racism, elitism, politics. Exclusion that Heather herself has lived during her career. I called our men like Larry Summers who advised Biden, Obama, and Clinton. Heather chose Larry over me. I expected retaliation. I did not expect it from Heather.

I spent an excruciating week pleading with Amanda and HR to rewind our conversations but to no avail. Finally, on August 6, I asked Heather to meet with me. Maybe it was all a big misunderstanding. Nope. She has never replied to me. The retaliation over one blog post and my awful treatment made no sense. I spoke at Equitable Growth’s launch event in 2013; served on its academic advisory board after that; and joined the the organization last November as its first Director of Macroeconomic Policy....

I am not the first person Heather needs to apologize to. After the retaliation against me began, I learned that Heather’s abusive behavior was a pattern. And was an open secret among elite circles of DC economic policy.

While Equitable Growth was still a part of the Center for American Progress, Neera Tanden, President Biden’s choice for the Director of the Office of Management and Budget, received a memo in 2015 detailing how five employees left due to Heather’s abuse. The memo states that these employees left because she has “difficulty managing staff, appropriately communicating her expectations, and is unprofessional in her conduct.” Five years later that sounds painfully familiar to me.

More people knew then too. John Podesta, a leader in the Democratic establishment and founder of Equitable Growth received that memo too. When Mr. Podesta’s email was hacked in 2016 that memo about Heather went on Wikileaks. Ms. Tanden, Mr. Podesta, and others who have since learned about Heather’s toxic behavior toward her staff protected her and not her victims. I was a victim, as are others. She creates a toxic work environment, and she is not held accountable. She has not changed.

Heather is now on track to be a member at the Council for Economic Advisers. A group that reports directly to the President and evaluates economic policy proposals from the Administration. She bring expertise and many skills in economic policy to that important position. Uplifting and supporting her team is not one of them. Working at Obama’s CEA as a senior economist (reporting directly to the a member) was the highlight of my career in economic policy. Staff at CEA need members who will support them.

the sum total of the words towards larry summers in the original blog post:

Elites tolerate the bad behavior of other elites. The reverence toward Larry Summer exemplifies my claim. During his entire career, Summers has attacked others who disagree with him. He is Clark Medalist, a former Secretary of the Treasury, and an adviser to Barack Obama. Summers has done more than any current economist to devalue the contributions of women economists during my career. As the President of Harvard, in 2005, Summers delivered remarks at NBER Conference on Diversifying the Science & Engineering Workforce. One hypothesis he offered for fewer women faculty in the sciences was “different availability of aptitude at the high end.” One could counter “Larry was only “asking questions” about women’s IQ. Anyone who does research knows that the questions we ask reflect our priors and our interests. I was a PhD student at the time of his speech. I did not attend the lecture, but I heard about it. I cannot imagine how the women in the room felt. I know I felt awful when I read it. It is badly argued and tone deaf at the struggles that women face in economics. Summers continues to demean women economics. I had an early career woman come to me recently with an inexcusable interaction with him. Larry, it is not women’s IQ, it’s yours that is the problem. She questioned whether economics was for her. I told her she is an awesome economist. It is true. Why am I picking up the pieces of your bad behavior? Harvard economics what is wrong with you all?

“most diverse cabinet” in which every single person is a horrendously cruel individual, serving only quid pro quo above all

#neoliberalism

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amydancepants-peralta · 4 years

Text

The 5 times Jake & Amy tried to get some ‘alone time’ during the holidays��(and the 1 time they’re successful)

Here is my entry into the @b99fandomevents Summer 2020 Challenge, for @peraltasames 💗 also available on ao3, as it is a little long ☺️

(For those of you playing at home, only part 2 is NSFW 🙊)

Part 1:

(where it all begins)

Attempt number 1: The Santiago Family Holiday House

“Thought I might find you here.”

Lifting her head up from its resting place in the crook of her arm, Amy doesn’t even try to suppress the smile that began to creep onto her face the moment she’d picked up on Jake’s voice.

She cocks her head to the side as he falters mid-step, an obvious blush creeping onto his cheeks as he lifts his hands, raising two bottles in mock surrender. “I mean, obviously I didn’t know that you’d be out here … I’ve never been here before and that’s giving off some real Creepy New Boyfriend vibes. You know what, I’m just going to reset and start again.” Digging one sneakered heel into the landing, he does a quick full body turn before Amy can give any type of reassurance; blinking quickly when their eyes meet again to indicate a Full Reset. “Hey, Ames! Your brother mentioned that you might be out here, so I thought I’d do something completely non-stalkery and bring you a drink.”

Chuckling, Amy reaches out for one of the offered bottles, riding that still new high that comes from hearing Jake Peralta refer to himself as her boyfriend. “Thanks, babe.”

It’s Jake’s turn to grin right back, clearly enjoying her use of their favourite new term for each other; a colloquial word that still seemed kinda new - given it’s only been four months since they got together - yet somehow fits so well it’s almost a little strange to remember a time when they couldn’t refer to each other as such. There’s a shared giddiness that floats between them as they clink bottles and take a sip, and her cheeks kinda hurt from smiling this much, but Amy really doesn’t care.

Gesturing at the expanse of the relatively simple deck, Jake takes in the wooden panelling of the exterior walls before turning his attention back to his girlfriend. “So … this is your little secret hideout, I hear?”

Nodding, Amy returns to her earlier position leaning against the high railing in front of her, letting out a soft yeah as her free hand runs along the timber paling.

Built by her grandfather as a home away from the city several decades ago, the Santiago Lake House has long been considered a place of refuge for the family. With six of her brothers, two uncles and her father Victor on the force, common holidays were rarely guaranteed off; and so this year they had elected a non-particular weekend in June as their opportunity for all to come together. Save for a last-minute issue at Victor’s precinct pulling him away from the festivities, all eight Santiago siblings (and their mother Camila) had arrived earlier today for a well overdue holiday.

While the majority of her family often preferred to gather around the oversized back deck, from a young age Amy had gravitated towards the more intimate side balcony that overlooked the water. Stretching out from the family room situated on the second floor, the surrounding tree tops lent a sense of privacy the back deck couldn’t completely offer; and on the evenings when things began to feel a little too loud, Amy would often come up here to decompress, watching the night slip by as the moon silvered the lake before her.

Taking a sip of his beer, Jake moves to stand next to Amy, resting his weight against the banister as he drinks in the view. “I really like it.” A small army of goosebumps appear on Amy’s skin, despite the dusk’s only slightly fading heat, as his arm brushes against her skin. “Perfectly compact, with a great view.” She can sense him grin, shoulder nudging against hers. “Feels like you.”

Amy feels her cheeks heat up as a blush washes over her, grateful that the relative darkness of the almost night sky would be able to hide her reaction. Jake was the very first boyfriend she’d ever brought to the lake house - a fact that Manny had announced very loudly in the middle of the private tour she had been giving earlier - and the look of elation and pride that had taken over Jake’s features at the discovery has remained fresh in her mind for the past few hours.

(It had never been an overly deliberate action, to keep previous boyfriends away from the lake house, but the thought of Jake joining in, within a minute of the date being set, had been so automatic that Amy is only now realising that the concept of being here without him had seemed completely illogical.)

A melody played from Luis’ acoustic guitar is carried up to the two of them by a sudden breeze, cutting through the tops of the surrounding pine, and Amy lets out a small shiver: forever and always susceptible to the cold, regardless of the lingering summer heat. Without missing a beat; Jake moves to stand behind her - covering her back with his front with the instinct of not only a gentleman, but a man who is very quickly taking complete hold of her heart.

His arms come to rest besides hers along the edge of the bannister, and quietly Amy hopes that he cannot feel the rapid pounding of her heart through her jacket. It felt a little ridiculous to act this way, like some kind of lovesick teenager drawing hearts all over her notebook, but dating Jake for the past four months doesn’t seem to have taken the edge off the way his presence made her feel.

“So …. Tell me about David.”

As hard as she tries to avoid it, Amy feels her shoulders tense up - the urge to let out an exaggerated UGH almost too strong to resist. She’d only touched on David’s presence briefly on the drive up to the lake house, and despite her own personal reservations, she supposed it was sort of fair that Jake might have a few questions. Letting out a calming breath, Amy gives herself a quick reminder to keep her responding tone light. “What would you like to know?”

“Uhh … well, look - the way his photo is displayed on that mantel in the formal lounge, and the clear adoration in your mother’s voice whenever his name came up made me wonder if he was on some super secret mission to Mars or something.” Shaking his head, Jake knocks the lip of the beer bottle against his forehead. “I honestly spent the first twenty minutes of polite chatter frantically rewinding all of our conversations over the last few years in my head, trying to remember you ever bringing up something like that. Thank god he walked in when he did, or I’m sure I would’ve ended up saying something really stupid.”

Knowing that Jake can’t necessarily see her (okay, perhaps childish) reaction, Amy rolls her eyes at the mention of Camila’s unfiltered reverence when it comes to David. “Yeah, he’s basically the ‘Do No Wrong’ guy … The Golden Child, as Julian and I like to call him. It’s kinda always been like that, ever since he came home from first grade with a report card filled with gold star stickers and praise from literally every teacher he’d ever been in contact with.”

Swallowing his last swig of beer, Jake scoffs into the night sky. “Gold stars are cool, I guess. But any fool knows that the scratch-n-sniff stickers are where it’s really at.”

“Obviously. Strawberry, the clear winner.”

His free hand landing on her forearm, Jake squeezes gently. “I’d always been partial to grape, but strawberry just reminds me of that chapstick you use before bed now, and I am a big fan of those strawberry kisses to start my morning.”

Craning her head to the side slightly, Amy flashes Jake a grin before meeting him halfway for a soft kiss. She, too, had become a big fan of morning kisses … and afternoon kisses, night kisses … basically any time she got to feel the pressure of Jake’s lips against her own was a winner in her book - and she knows she’s being a little ridiculous but she also really, really likes him. Remembering their previous conversation as she pulls away, Amy shakes her head slightly before looking out onto the lake again.

“It’s worse at home, if I’m being honest - it’s basically the same shrine on the mantel, only at home we have a piano in the living room as well. So … how well you’re doing at school or work or whatever, determines your position either on the piano or the wall of shame above the staircase.”

“I mean … I’m sure it’s not meant to feel like a wall of shame, babe.”

Amy nods, letting out a quick I want to believe you laugh. “Tell that to Tony. One semester, he wasn’t focusing as much as normal, and his grade dropped by a whole level. Two days after he came home with the results, Mama conveniently decided to do a redesign of the living room - one that just so happened to include the shuffling of Tony’s school portrait from next to mine on the piano, to sitting at the bottom of the staircase.”

Taking a long sip of Cristal, Amy pauses to take stock of the conversation. It felt slightly traitorous to be talking to Jake about the hierarchy that - prior to this evening - she’d only ever discussed with her brothers (minus one). There’s never been a question over whether their mother loved them dearly - an abundance of love was palpable between the walls of both their family home and the holiday house - but it was also impossible to deny that the shadow of David’s successes, paired with Camila’s obvious praise, had loomed over Amy’s shoulders during her many late night study sessions.

This wasn’t the first time talking to Jake had led to Amy admitting more than she would to most - he had that (at times, irritating) ability to sneak past her guard long before they’d been anything more than colleagues. But one of her most favourite details of their new relationship, aside from the why-did-we-wait-so-long-for-this sex, was the amount of nights they would stay up just … talking. They’d learnt more about each other in the past four months than the last two years combined, and still she craves more. Shaking her now empty bottle, Amy stoops to place it on the ground beside her before straightening, sighing in contentment as Jake’s shoulders rest against hers once again.

“Eventually, Tony’s photo found its way back to the piano .. but the message was pretty clear.” Letting out a rueful laugh, she shakes her head slightly. “It’s no secret that I love a bit of friendly competition. But … it’d be kinda nice if the rungs of the ladder weren’t always so far away from each other.”

At the feeling of Jake’s lips pressing into her hair Amy lets out one last sigh, surprising herself with just how lighter her shoulders seem to feel. A silence stretches between them as Jake drains the last of his beer, and just when she’s about to change the subject completely, he speaks.

“So. There’s a little known fact about me, that you should probably be made aware of now that we’re all smooshing booties offical stylez and whatever.”

Her lips curl up at the term. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yup. Obviously you’re already aware of my titles as Greatest Detective Ever, Badass MC, Amazing Lover, Fierce Defender of Good from Evil ..”

“Oh god, is this list ever going to end?”

“… Master dunker at B-ball, unofficially official taste tester of any and all sour candies … but! What you might not know is that I am also a crazy good Hype Man. Like .. the best. All the others can just go home coz I kick the most butt at hyping things up and that’s just the facts.”

Turning her head slightly towards Jake, Amy glances up at her boyfriend from the corner of her eyes. “I feel like there was a point you were making, here?”

Depositing his empty bottle along the far edge of the banister, Jake’s hands return to weave their fingers through both of Amy’s, staying close as she watches him take a heavy swallow. Sensing that something important was about to be said, and that Jake may not be at the Locked Eyes Grand Gesture stage just yet, she trains her gaze towards the lake and waits.

“What I’m saying, Ames, is that I am officially signing up to be your hype man. I will literally have zero hesitation in pointing out your awesomeness to anybody that doesn’t immediately see it, and I just ..” Pausing for a moment, he shuffles closer to her back, squeezing their gripped fingers tightly, and she takes no hesitation in squeezing right back. “You need to know that … no matter what happens. I’m always going to be there, cheering you on.”

The unspoken definition of the no matter what happens hangs between them, the mere mention of anything but the two of them staying together sounding both unwelcome and impossible, and Amy nods against his chest.

“I just …. They could rewire the stars with your accolades, Ames. The fact that it goes over anybody’s head baffles me, let alone somewhere like here.”

She nods again, temporarily unable to speak as unexpected tears begin to threaten their escape. There were an abundance of reports and awards that spoke of her achievements, and logically she knew that any task that she set her mind to could be mastered with relative ease.

But to know that Jake not only noticed her triumphs, but wanted to actually (and, perhaps literally) shout them from the rooftops, meant more to Amy than she could have anticipated.

He presses another kiss to her hair, and she holds onto him tightly. There’s so much familiarity surrounding her right now - from the scratch of the logwood bannisters; the filtered laughter of her brothers and their extended families, to the slightly acrid smell of burnt marshmallows as Luis once again fails to make a decent s’more.

Jake’s cologne with it’s spicy notes, and the overall sense of warmth he exudes, should feel foreign amongst it all … but standing here on the balcony with his arms stretched out comfortably on top of her own, Amy cannot deny that it feels less like an intrusion, and more like the final piece of life’s puzzle locking into place.

Her voice cuts through the night, tone soft as she rests her head briefly against Jake’s shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re here, Jake.”

The bridge of Jake’s nose brushes her temple as he dips his head lower, pressing a kiss against her cheekbone, and her heart skips at the simple intimacy of it all. “Me too, Ames.”

His fingers, still interlaced with hers, tighten as he pulls their arms closer to her middle; holding the two of them in a tight embrace as his continues a trail of kisses, letting out a quiet sigh as he follows her jawline. It’s as his teeth begin to graze the outside edge of her earlobe - a guaranteed winning choice - that he begins to whisper, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down her spine. “So if I’m officially the first boyfriend you’ve brought here … does that mean there’s a bed somewhere that needs breaking in?”

Grinning, Amy turns in his embrace, releasing her grip on his hands so that she can throw her arms around her boyfriend’s neck and nod. He gives her a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows, absorbing her laughter with a slightly longer kiss as his arms wrap around her lower body, and it only takes a moment when he pulls away and looks down at her - but in a moment, she knows.

It’s a combination of things - a curated list of all of her favourite details about him coming together on a hazy June evening: the softness of his touch every time he was near; the warmth of his breath when it ghosted over her skin, the way he made her feel like she was the only person in the world that he could ever want to kiss. She knows that it’s still technically early days, but as his fingers tip gently underneath her chin and draw her closer for the kind of kiss one doesn’t forget easily, Amy knows for sure that she is most definitely falling in love with Jake Peralta.

It’s the kind of thought - the kind of kiss - that distracts even the most focused of people, and for that reason alone Amy doesn’t hear the heavy thud of Manny’s boots bounding up the staircase until it’s accompanied by his loud Busted! tone.

“Okay amantes - time to come and at least pretend to be sociable with the family, yah?”

Amy’s lips pull away from Jake’s with a smack, swivelling her head towards her brother as she fixes him with a glare. “We’re here for an entire weekend, Manny. Plenty of time for family stuff.”

That frustratingly mischievous glint appears in her brother’s eyes - a sure sign of danger ahead - and Amy pulls away slightly from Jake. “Ah-huh. No biggie, Ma’s just been asking about your new boyfriend Jake, and is wondering where you’d gotten to … I’ll just tell her you’re both up here exploring the backs of each other’s throats, if that’s cool?”

Grabbing her wrist quickly, Jake yelps out a quick “Nope!”, gently pulling Amy towards the staircase. “We were actually just talking about how we should go down and join the crowd, weren’t we Ames?”

Manny makes little to no effort to conceal his laughter as Amy’s response is a continuation of her glare, and he half-turns towards Jake as all three begin their descent towards the back deck. “FYI, my bedroom is right next to yours, and I sleep real light … wouldn’t want to have to tell Mama about the things that go bump in the night, hey hermana?”

“You’ll get yours, manito.” Amy mumbles, linking hands with Jake as they move further away from their private oasis.

There was a very good chance that this was Manny’s version of revenge (she may or may not have stumbled on her brother & his boyfriend last year, something she still swears to have been an accident) but now she’s both turned on and frustrated; knowing that as long as Manny has anything to do with it, there will be No Sex for her and Jake at the lake house.

Truly, she couldn’t think of a worse way to begin a holiday.

(… is that a red light blinking?)

Attempt number 2: Santa Barbara

Jake’s eyebrows lift in surprise as the strength of Amy’s shove forces him into the couch cushions below, body barely settling against the base before she begins scrambling onto his lap.

Responding to his shock with a satisfied grin, Amy rests her hands on either side of his face to pull him in for a kiss, catching his soft moans and joining them with her own as it deepens.

It isn’t until she’s begun to graze her teeth against the base of his neck that she catches her breath, whispering as her body begins to grind down against his - “I’m totally blaming you for this, by the way.”

“I’m not sure what I’m taking the blame for, but as long as you keep kissing me like that I’m pretty much going to admit to anything.”

She laughs, sinking her teeth gently into his shoulder and leaving a kiss in their wake. “You and your hands, stroking up and down my back all night while I was trying to be the attentive and supportive sister. It was driving me crazy, you don’t know how close I came to dragging you into the coat closet.”

The two of them had flown to Santa Barbara for a long weekend to show their support for Amy’s closest (aka: secretly favourite) brother, Miguel. As the only Santiago child not to join the NYPD, Miguel had instead chosen to become a specialist in the medical field, relocating to follow a promotion in California. This evening he was receiving an award from his peers at a gala uptown, and both Jake and Amy had jumped at the chance to attend - if for no other reason than a chance to get away, after months of double shifts and leads that had taken them absolutely nowhere.

Amy had chosen a new dress for the occasion - black material that shimmered in just the right way, with a low-scoop back to avoid the unbearable summer heat. Paired with her signature studs and heels high enough to do some serious damage if provoked, she’d felt like a million dollars walking into the gala on Jake’s arm - and had smiled ever so proudly as Miguel received his award.

The rest of the night, however, has become a vague memory … because all she can remember feeling - all she can remember even thinking about - was the way Jake’s fingers felt as they feathered against her exposed skin. With his arm draped over her chair he’d been given the perfect amount of leeway throughout the ceremony, and the non-sensical patterns of unconscious action on her boyfriend’s end had sent a parade of tingles all over her body with every lap.

Safe to say, once all the awards have been presented and they’d had the chance to congratulate Miguel once again, Amy had slammed down her fourth drink and found a convenient reason for her and Jake to leave. Immediately.

“To be fair Ames, you do look amazing tonight,” Jake mumbled in-between kisses, running his hand over the expanse of her back to demonstrate his appreciation. “Honestly, I’m blaming the dress for making my already hot girlfriend Super Mega Hot.”

She rewards his sweet declaration with a heated kiss, hands making quick work of his tie - loosening the knot with practised ease (she does, after all, fasten and loosen his work tie most days) and casting the fabric aside as she begins to tackle his buttons.

A beachside mansion, owned by a friend of Roger’s, had been offered to be their accommodation for the weekend - an olive branch of sorts towards Jake that he’d begrudgingly accepted (the notion of his parents dating each other, something he was slowly coming to terms with). Their delayed flight this afternoon had meant that Jake and Amy barely had time to dump their bags before getting changed and leaving again, but the floor-to-ceiling windows and expansive layout she’d picked up on their way out the door already suggested a very comfortable few days ahead.

It is, in fact, only as Jake drops a quick kiss to her lips, suggesting they move things into the bedroom, that Amy stands and actually takes stock of her surroundings (a combination of four drinks and an irresistible partner can clearly only lead to a distracted mind).

Tugging onto her boyfriend’s hand as he continues leading her towards the hallway, Amy lets out a quiet wait a minute - and it’s just enough to pique Jake’s interest, turning to see what it is that’s caught Amy’s attention.

“Ames?”

Raising her finger in a curious point, Amy surveys the room. “Cameras.” At Jake’s silence, she points them out as she slowly circumnavigates the room. “One, two .. I count four altogether. Four cameras, three of them video. Trained to face the furniture, and not the beach.”

Hands on hips, Jake moves further into the centre of the room, frowning. “Yeah, that is a little weird.”

Her eyebrows knit together as she walks towards the bookshelf next to the tv unit, inspecting a container that managed to catch her eye. “Jake, there are like five different handcuffs in here. All of them furry.” Turning her head, she begins to read a few of the labels attached on a row of VHS tapes. Genna and Nicolai … Matt and Lennon … “Cockpit Larry and the Mile High Stewardi?” Swivelling quickly, Amy turns to gasp at Jake. “Babe … what sort of place has your father organised for us?”

Running his hand along the back of his neck, Jake shakes his head quickly. “Let’s not panic just yet, Ames. This could all just be a series of coincidences that when put together seem really weird, but actually aren’t. It .. looks like a normal house - except for all the cameras that seem to be directed towards the couch we were definitely just making out on, maybe a few sex tapes and what, in hindsight, might definitely be release papers waiting for us on the kitchen bench.”

“There’s what, where?”

“In fact, I bet if I lift the lid off of this bowl thing, we’ll find some delicious candy or potpourri or something … and it’s lube. Many, many bottles of lube. Hey, we’ve got the same flavour!”

Amy’s eyes widen, her face paling significantly as she feels her stomach drop to her feet. “Oh god, this is a sex dungeon isn’t it?”

“If not, it’s the background of at least a few porn videos.” Gripping the base of his hair in frustration, Jake lifts his head to curse at the ceiling. “I should’ve known Roger wouldn’t know anybody with a normal house!”

Sensing the panic build up inside of her, Amy scours the room for her purse and heels, both of which had been discarded near the entryway mid-makeout. The arousal that had been coursing through her mere minutes ago has all but disappeared, replaced by the overwhelming urge to take a shower. She was all for porn, just as long as she wasn’t the star of it (one simply doesn’t find NYPD’s youngest female captain on RedTube) - and this house was the kind of place that, under a black light, would resemble a Jackson Pollock. “Jake, we need to leave. We almost had sex in here!”

“Almost being the keyword, Ames. Unless … ”

“Jake!”

“Coming, my love! Title of the sex tape that we definitely didn’t make here!”

(i’m sensing a pattern here …)

Attempt Number 3: The Beach House

“Jake! Jake’s girlfriend! I just pulled Charles’s ear away from your bedroom door, thought you might wanna know!”

Startled, Jake lifts his head up so quickly it hurts his neck a little, both confused and irritated that his earlier activity of planting a series of kisses along Amy’s bare torso has been so rudely interrupted. “Wait, was that …?”

Raising her head off of the pillow, Amy meets his startled gaze with her own. “Did she just - ”

Their suspicions (and, in all honesty - their worst fears) were confirmed a mere second later as another voice booms through their (thankfully, locked) bedroom door.

“I’ve had a very stressful week, Gina! What better way to lull myself into a restful sleep than by listening to the sweet lovemaking of America’s Dream Couple?”

“Oh my god, BOYLE!”

Jake’s knees slide against the sheets as he sits up, lending a hand to Amy as she follows suit. He lets out a defeated sigh as she pushes the hem of her shirt downwards again, leaning forward to grip his arm as he calls through the door - “Boundaries, Charles! … Thank you, Gina!”

“It’s a virtual feast for the ears, you guys! Very soothing, to bear audio witness to the actualisation of love beyond a doorway. It’s only weird if we make it weird.”

“It’s weird and creepy and not okay, Boyle!” Squeezing his eyes shut, Jake cringes at the sheer notion of it. Using his best nope voice, he continues. “Good night!”

From their position on the bed, Jake and Amy hear the faint sound of Gina muttering come on, you weirdo; and they wait in careful silence, sharing flustered looks.

The entire squad had all met up at Boyle’s ex-wife’s beach house this weekend, eager to continue the yearly tradition now that Holt and Jake had finally returned from Florida a month prior. After a day of fun and frivolity (the two of them perhaps being a little unsubtle as they openly checked each other out in their swimwear); the happily reunited couple had snuck away as the evening’s drinks began to die down for a little … alone time.

It had been Jake’s version of paradise, with Amy’s skin still feeling warm and sun kissed as his hands roamed her gorgeous body, and with a schedule of Absolutely Nothing planned for the following day, he intended to keep things going well into the early hours.

That is, of course, until Charles (and Gina, but … mainly Charles) had put a total stop to it.

Amy’s hand squeezes Jake’s bicep, casting a wary glance towards the door before softly speaking. “Wow, that was close.”

“Yeah. I never thought I would say this in relation to sex, but … thank god for Gina.”

“I don’t even want to imagine the alternative.”

Shaking his head, Jake swears under his breath. “You know what this is, right?”

“Charles forgetting basic social normalities, and grossly overstepping the line?”

“No. I mean, yes - that, too. But I think the main culprit here is the curse.”

“The curse?”

“The No Nookie Curse. Tell me you’ve noticed it Ames, it can’t just be me.”

Cocking her head to the side, Amy tests out the term. “The No Nookie Curse?”

Scooting closer to his girlfriend, Jake rests his palms against Amy’s thighs with the practiced comfort of someone who knows her body better than his own. “Every single time we tried to initiate sexy times when we’re on holiday, something happens to interrupt us. I’m telling you, we’re cursed.” He grimaces, rolling his eyes. “Which is probably because I didn’t forward that email on to seven of my closest friends back in 2013, but I was busy that day and - ”

“Jake. There’s no way we’re cursed. We had sex on our last holiday … didn’t we?”

“Do you mean that weekend at Dave’s cool beachfront mansion, that was also definitely used for porn films?”

“Oh right, the sex den. Okay, but that’s a one-off. We’ve been on plenty of holidays prior to that.”

“Like the lake house, where we were both so paranoid that Mama Santiago would find out what we were doing that we barely moved each evening?”

“Yeah, when you add it up like that it really doesn’t sound great.”

“I mean … there was lots of sex on the cruise once Doug Judy disappeared. Good sex, too - not that we ever have bad sex. But that was really good, life-affirming, post-declarations-of-love sex, that I’m completely certain we were able to have because we were in international waters, and therefore outside the curses’s jurisdiction.”

Covering Jake’s hands with her own, Amy squeezes gently at the mention of their cruise holiday and leans in for a chaste kiss. “I’m pretty sure curse’s don’t have jurisdictions, babe.”

“How can you be so sure, Ames? All I know is, whenever we’re on holiday and we try to get the good kind of naked, something always comes along and stops us. And it really is a travesty, because you always get this crazy sexy vacation glow about you that just makes me want to cover your body in kisses, and yet somehow it just never seems to happen.”

“Wow, you’ve really thought a lot about this, huh?”

“Lets just say it’s been eating away at me for a while now.”

A lewd joke dies on Amy’s lips as she looks over at her boyfriend, taking in the obvious frustration in his face and realising how seriously he was taking the issue. “Babe, I promise. There is no such thing as a curse.” Planting her hand on the other side of the bed, she lifts herself up, straddling his lap as he moves quickly to tent his legs behind her. “And I am going to prove it to you - right here, right now.”

His hands land on Amy’s waist, holding her steady as she scrapes the edge of her teeth against his curve of his neck, carding her fingers through his shorter hair while her body slowly gyrates on his lap. “God I love you, Ames.”

“Mmm.” Amy takes in a deep breath, relishing the scent of the man she’d missed for so long, sighing when his hands reach down to squeeze her butt. “I love you too, Jake.”

The curse, the previous interruption … pretty much any kind of detail other than his name was disappearing from Jake’s mind with every press of Amy's warm lips against his skin, and he lets out a soft moan, gripping her body tighter as his hands begin to wander to her front.

THUD.

“OW! Rosa!”

“What the hell, Boyle! I know Gina just pulled you away from here!”

Their kissing coming to an abrupt stop, Amy groans, tucking her head into the juncture of Jake’s neck and shoulder. “Oh my god, again?!”

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Jake falls back onto the mattress, taking Amy with him and curling both arms around her protectively. They listen as Charles and Rosa squabble in the hallway outside, choosing not to acknowledge the horror of it all this time around. With a defeated grumble, Amy reaches for the comforter, covering them both up before returning to her safe place (i.e., Jake’s shoulder).

“What was that you were saying, about curses not existing?”

(okay, now the universe is just messing with us)

Attempt Number 4: Team Building in Deer River

It’s Jake’s absent-minded humming of his current favourite song that puts a tranquil smile on Amy’s face on their return to the campsite, keeping her grip around his waist tight as the leaves crunch loudly beneath their feet.

Together with the squad, they had spent the day attending a team building event in Deer River - a state forest just far enough from the city that camping overnight had been the safest option.

After a full day of trust falls, puzzle solving and a group scavenger hunt, the couple had strategically erected their tent further away from the rest of their team, hoping to afford a little bit of privacy (and perhaps, a safe enough distance from Charles). Following Jake’s exoneration, and the brand new addition of a shiny ring on Amy’s finger, a night away underneath the stars was exactly what they needed; and once everything was set up the two of them had wandered off into the woods for some time to themselves.

(Aka: totally disappearing into the surrounding trees and starting a makeout session that lasted longer than either had anticipated.)

(So much so, that the sun had almost completely set by the time they pulled away from each other, hastily returning each of their clothing to a suitable state before heading back.)

Intent on proving that the No Nookie Curse was only an amalgamation of Jake’s paranoid thoughts, Amy was determined to get back to the campsite and settle themselves into bed before anyone or anything could interrupt them. Her plan involved waiting out the rest of the squad’s bedtime routines, before demonstrating to the love of her life that vacation sex was not only a) possible, it was also b) definitely happening.

Whistling the last few bars of his song, Jake tightens his arm around Amy’s shoulder as a strong wind runs through the surrounding greenery - the fifth gust since they started walking back, all of them gaining in strength - already regretting not grabbing her scarf from their luggage earlier.

“Just throwing it out there, babe? Still on Team Outdoor Sex. Sex in the woods sounds hella cool. Daytime sex, though. Now that the sun has clocked out, and the wind has clocked in, it’s actually kinda really cold.”

“Daytime outdoor sex does sound cool, if you disregard the bugs that will crawl all over you, the ticks that will suck on your blood and potentially give you Lyme disease … the bears that could come along at any second and attack us …”

“Really ramping up on the sexy talk there, Ames.”

Rolling her eyes, Amy squeezes Jake’s hand, linking their fingers together. “All of these are things that would interrupt us, and while I’m still not saying that curses exist, I do think we should try to avoid any temptation for things to go wrong.”

“You’ve put a binder together about this, haven’t you?”

“Not a binder per se, but I’ve definitely done a decent amount of research.” Stopping just shy of the clearing, Amy turns to face her fiancé, wrapping her arms around his waist. “After all, this is the first time we’ve been able to get away since getting engaged. A night away is just what we need, and I’m not letting a thing stop us from taking full advantage of this opportunity.”

Pushing herself up onto her tippy-toes, Amy pecks a quick kiss onto Jake’s lips, satisfyingly noticing their still swollen state from earlier activities. “Besides, if the wind stays like this, I’m going to need something to help keep me warm, Peralta.”

“I’m sure I could think of something,” he mumbles in reply, leaning in for another chaste kiss and groaning when Amy pulls away, grabbing his hand and leading him back towards the camping ground.

Quickly reverting back to their previous positioning - hand over shoulder, arm wrapped around waist - Amy is giggling at something that Jake has just whispered in her ear when Holt comes into sight, raising her free hand in a silent wave as they near him.

“Peralta. Santiago. I’m thankful to have ended up on the same path as the two of you, as it was exactly your presence that I was seeking.”

Pushing a stray lock of hair out of her eye line, Amy nods. “Jake and I went for a walk and must have lost track of the time, sir.” From beside her, Jake subtly nudges his hip into her own, and she resists the urge to elbow him in the ribs. “What did you need us for? Do you need a hand with your tent?”

Wincing, Holt shakes his head slowly. “Ahh, no. Unfortunately, it would appear that your tent was not as securely fastened to the camping ground as previously suggested.”

Amy feels Jake’s hand slide down her back as it falls away - much like their hopes for the rest of the evening would soon do - and she looks over at her superior, confused. “Captain?”

Turning, Holt points through the clearing towards the river, where in the fading light Amy and Jake can faintly make out the tip of their tent as it floats further away from solid ground.

Oh.

“The trouble with openings such as this, is that the prevailing weather meets very little resistance - and so as the wind has grown stronger we have all had to readjust our footings in regards to our own domiciles. Regrettably, such distractions meant that the rapidly loosening fixtures on your tent went unnoticed by the squad. Your lodging managed to catch the wind and set itself adrift on the water before anybody had a chance to attempt recovery.”

Running a hand down his face, Jake lets out a frustrated groan. “Looks like we’re roughing it in the dirt tonight, babe.”

“Weren’t our sleeping bags in the tent as well?” Amy responds, her face falling as Jake nods slowly.

Holt raises his hand, clearly intending to stop the couple from spiralling into total hopelessness. “Fortunately, Kevin and I recently purchased a two room tent that has the ability to sleep ten people, which provides plenty of room for the two of us and Cheddar. Provided you have an adequate amount of your allergy medication with you, Santiago, we can relocate him to our side of the canvas and offer you shelter for the evening. Perhaps in the morning, we will be able to organise a retrieval of your now absent tent.”

Resting his hand on the small of Amy’s back, Jake nods once again. “There’s a spare packet in our bags, which thankfully are still in the common area.”

“Very well. Follow me, then. Kevin has already begun making provisions for your stay, and I’m sure your earlier activities have left you eager for rest.”

Thankful, but also more than a little bit crushed that their plans had fallen apart so swiftly, Jake and Amy follow their captain through the campsite with fallen shoulders.

Jake waits until Holt has passed through the mesh lining into their other ‘room’ before muttering low enough for only Amy’s ears to pick up - “The No Nookie Curse strikes again.”

And truthfully, Amy cannot come up with a single rebuttal - choosing instead to cup her fiancé’s face, and offer a soft kiss in commiseration. Perhaps curses were real, after all.

(seriously, how do those guys do it?)

Attempt Number 5: Romance on the beach

“I’m telling you, Ames. There has to be a secret propellor or something under there. There just has to be. I literally cannot think of any other way.”

Her shoulders shaking from all the laughter, Amy reaches out to rest her arms on either side of her husband’s neck and breaks her chuckle for a kiss. “I know, babe. You’re totally right.”

“I just … how else do they do it?”

Shaking her head, Amy breaks out into another round of laughter, keeping her grip tight so that Jake knows it isn’t directed at him (but rather, the situation at hand).

The Hamptons was their address for the next three days, the location of choice for Tony and his partner Luella’s upcoming wedding. In true Peraltiago Vacation style, emergency renovations to the widespread home that all Santiago siblings were staying in had meant that they were short one room, and Jake and Amy had been the lucky couple to be allocated the sofa bed in the living room as their place of rest.

(A fact that, once broken to them, had led to Jake coughing the word Cursed! under his breath, and in all honesty - this time Amy knew he was absolutely right.)

Fresh from their honeymoon (which, once their captain had left them in peace, had involved a lot of sex … amazingly mind-blowing, sometimes costumed sex - which only served to prove that the international waters clause of the curse still held strong), both of them had entered holiday mode with a renewed vigour to finally set things straight.

Having a sunken living room, with a wraparound balcony looking down at them from above for a bedroom, led to Jake thinking creatively - pulling Amy towards the beach on the first evening, lifting her into his arms and running both of them straight into the ocean.

It was the stuff of fantasies: floating in the water with the one you heart adored, holding onto each other tightly as you make love, the waves lapping around you and the world disappearing for just a little while. The kind of scene that every person has seen in a movie, or read in a book, and one that the newlyweds had actually intended to try on their honeymoon before realising that the beaches surrounding their hotel were rarely secluded enough for such activities.

The reality, however, was vastly different - with the two quickly realising that the art of treading water, while clinging to each other and trying desperately not to drown, did not a sexy tryst make.

It was mid-kiss that Jake finally broke away, sputtering out “Are the guys in all the movies secretly dolphins or something?”, all the while pushing frantic strokes through the water in an effort to stay afloat; causing Amy to burst into laughter - tears streaking down your face, ribs sore from all the shaking kind of laughter - clinging to her husband like a koala as he slowly walked them back towards the shore.

Joining Amy in her mirth, Jake leads her over to the towels that he’d dumped on the sand earlier, spreading them out haphazardly and pulling his wife down to meet him. “Okay, so now we know. Sex in the water = not as easy as it looks.”

Thankful to have chosen a dress for their intended walk on the beach, Amy lifts the wet fabric from her thigh, squeezing out a small fountain of water as she gives Jake a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, babe. It was definitely worth a shot - and bonus points for spontaneity. Very hot.”

Jake’s hand comes to rest on her bared thigh, stroking her skin gently before leaning in for a kiss. “It’s easy to find reasons for spontaneous sex, when you have a wife as hot as I do.”

“Mmm,” Amy moans into his mouth, abandoning the skirt and letting it fall back down with a splat. The sand beneath the towel shifts as she digs her knees in; scrambling closer to Jake to deepen the kiss, knowing all too well that her horniness level was still sitting low on simmer.

She breaks the kiss to nibble on Jake’s earlobe as his hand slides further up the dress, fingertips sliding over her butt, and Amy climbs onto his lap, lifting her hips slightly in silent invitation. Her underwear slides down a moment later, lifting her knees and then her ankles until they’re being tucked into Jake’s pocket, and she takes advantage of the freedom by grinding down on his growing erection.

Despite the cool sea water still dripping down her skin, Jake’s hands feel warm as he moves to caress her once more, palm digging into her derriere as he pulls her in for a heavy kiss, and suddenly Amy thinks she’s beginning to understand all the reasons why ‘sex on the beach’ is such a popular term.

Jake’s fingers caress her folds shortly after, dipping one finger in before following with another, and it's everything Amy has been craving for, her husband’s lips leaving a trail of kisses along her jawline while she writhes on his lap.

It’s only as his hand pulls away, and her hips continue to sway closer to Jake’s body, that a whole other sensation begins to form. Yanking her mouth away from the hickey she’d been creating on Jake’s neck, Amy presses a hand to his chest and whispers - “Jake! The sand.”

“Mmm, yeah. All soft and warm, it’s kinda hot.”

Shaking her head, Amy rears back further, only to let out a sharp cry. “No, Jake! I think the sand has gotten into … places.”

He blinks, shaking himself out of his makeout stupor. “Wait. Ames, are you okay?”

“My vagina is on fire, babe.”

Scrambling upwards, Jake reaches out to help Amy stand, wincing at her obvious discomfort. “Do you want to go back into the water?”

Amy shakes her head quickly. “I need a shower, pronto. Oh god, I can feel all the little grains scraping.”

“Oh no, it would have been on my hands, and then I … I’m so sorry, Ames.” Turning, Jake presents his back to her, bending lower. “Here, jump up and I’ll carry you back to the house and straight into the shower. I’m so sorry, babe."

His hands dig into her lower thigh as Amy rests her upper body against her husband’s back, pressing her forehead into his shoulder blade and letting out a groan. “Okay universe, we get it! The No Nookie curse is real!”

“It’s real and it sucks!” Jake’s voice comes out in a huff as he rushes through the sand, grateful that they hadn’t strayed too far from the house.

“Ugh, why have people named a drink after this?!”

Part 2:

(and the 1 time they’re successful)

(I'm definitely seeing stars)

Jake’s grip on his wife’s hand holds strong as he leads her up to the highest point of the house, pausing at the base of the final set of stairs and gesturing for her to take the lead. Amy gives him a curious look as she passes him, clearly intrigued, and he whispers a compliment directed at her butt (always a favourite) as they both begin their ascent.

Holt and Kevin’s vow renewal ceremony was (finally!) taking place this coming weekend, and the squad - plus partners and children alike - had all convened earlier today at their allocated accommodation in the Berkshires.

The house - like many in the surrounding neighbourhood - was larger than the precinct and all of their homes combined; stretching out into various wings and drawing the eye upward with it’s high ceilings and exposed stonework. This time, Jake and Amy had gone to great lengths to ensure they were allocated their own room towards the opposite end of the home, large enough to accommodate a now eight months old Mac while also ensuring a modicum of privacy - a concept dearly treasured, after so many disastrous attempts.

Exhausted after a full day of sticking to a rigid schedule of rehearsals and preparations alike, Jake had waited until they’d been able to lull their son to sleep in his travel cot before luring Amy into the hallway with the promise of a surprise; and he’s not entirely sure if it his proposal to her several years ago that finally got Amy on board with his surprises, or if it was just indicative of the trust he’d been able to earn - but either way, she follows eagerly with an excited grin.

He hears the excited gasp that escapes her mouth as the door at the top swings open, the full extent of his plan coming to fruition as Amy moves further into the landing and turns to him with eyes that sparkled. “Jake … this is amazing!”

Tucking both hands into his pockets, Jake puts on his best humble brag face as he joins his wife in the centre of the alcove. “So I did a little research on this place before we got here, and as it turns out the owner/builder was a massive fan of stargazing.” Nodding towards the low set walls that wrapped around the base, he turns to Amy with a proud grin. “They’d built this landing solely for that purpose. And tonight, it is our little hideaway.”

Amy’s eyes soften as she takes in the surrounding tea light candles, the blow-up mattress covered in blankets and pillows in the middle of it all, and the bottle of wine still chilling in a bucket of ice to the side. “Wow, babe. You really pulled out all the stops on this one.”

“One could say .. a whole binders worth of preparation.”

Her head swivels towards him, and he grins triumphantly. “You made a binder for this?”

“You haven’t even heard the best part. The door we just went through is the only way in or out, and I have the key right here in my pocket. Rosa has stepped in to keep an eye on Mac, and has promised that she will only call if it’s an emergency. She also seems to have figured out what we are doing up here, and appears to be equal parts impressed and disgusted.”

Amy nods, moving closer and resting her hands on either side of Jake’s neck.

“Holt and Kevin are off with Laverne, Charles and Genevieve have taken Nikolaj camping half an hour away, and Terry and Sharon are exhausted from chasing after their kids all day. Hitchcock and Scully had both an apple pie and a cake after dinner, so I can only assume that they’ve slipped into some sort of post-sugar high coma.” Leaning in to press a soft kiss at the edge of Amy’s lips, Jake pulls away with a grin. “What I’m saying, my darling, is that there is almost no chance of us getting interrupted.”

Moving closer still, Amy wraps both arms around Jake’s neck, carding her fingers through his slightly overgrown curls as she draws him in for a heart-pounding kiss. “Looks like we’re kicking a certain curse’s butt tonight.”

Nodding, Jake initiates another kiss, waiting until he feels Amy melt completely in his arms before grazing his lips along the edge of her cheek, peppering tiny kisses in their wake. “While I am definitely looking forward to breaking the curse, this is mainly just me wanting you to feel good, babe.”

“Mmm. I’d say you’re on the right track.”

His teeth scrape lightly against her earlobe as he lets out a soft laugh, pulling their bodies closer together. “You work so hard, Ames .. and you do so much for Mac and I. You deserve to have a holiday, and really relax.” Continuing the path paved earlier, Jake reaches the juncture of her neck and swipes his tongue against her warm skin. “Let me make you feel good, babe.”

Amy lets out a moan, Jake’s hands wandering down the front of her jeans, cupping her centre through the fabric and rubbing with a slow rhythm; and he pulls away with a sly grin.

“There is one tiny detail that we need to take into consideration, actually.” Raising one hand, Jake gestures towards the open design of the landing. “Out here it’s just you, me and the stars … and sound travels like crazy.” He drops a tender kiss to her lips, leaving the intimation of both his and hers tendency to get a little loud during sex unspoken. “In fact, you could even say it’s - ” leaning in, he flips into his Best Sexy Tone - “omnidirectional.”

“Oh, mama …”

“We’re going to have to try really hard to stay quiet, babe.” Tightening his grip around her waist, Jake lowers his body slightly and Amy picks up on the queue, wrapping her legs around her husband as he moves them towards the blankets. He lowers her carefully, shaking his head in wonder as she gazes back up at him: looking like some kind of heavenly creation amongst the mixture of candlelight and stars. “I’m so in love with you, Amy Santiago.”

A soft blush creeps onto her cheeks, and Amy crooks her finger in a silent request for her husband’s presence, sinking her teeth into her lower lip as he covers her body with his own. “I love you too, Jake.”

Her hips tilt marginally upwards, rubbing her body against the fabric of Jake’s own jeans as she reaches for his fly, making quick work of the barriers as her hand slides inside to grip his rapidly growing erection. Quick to follow suit, Jake pulls away from their embrace only to tug both his and Amy’s jeans off completely, casting both of their tops and underwear aside haphazardly and mentally congratulating his earlier decision to use battery-powered candles over real ones. Setting fire to the highest point of a house is a great way to kill a mood - and ruin a wedding - and there wasn’t a single way that he was going to let the two of them be interrupted tonight.

His erection rubs against Amy’s naked thigh as he covers her body once again, sweeping his hand over her curves as his hand heads directly to her centre. He covers her mouth with his own while his fingers begin to explore, taking in the moisture they find and gently massaging just the way Amy loves. Her hips sway beneath Jake’s torso, working with his deft touch as her hand moves to circle his cock, squeezing and pumping slowly … a familiar move that only made Jake last a full two minutes the last time she tried it.

The two of them are straight-up moaning by now, rotating between messy kisses and heated breaths against shoulders and necks as they both work each other up with expert precision. Contorting his back, Jake moves to sink his teeth into the edge of Amy’s right breast, desperate for a taste of her arousal but knowing all too well that if he moves too far away from her mouth, his wife will begin to really cry out, and the risk of exposure was just too great.

Instead, he slides back up to press his lips against hers, the desire obvious as his bare crotch ruts against her own. Amy’s responding moan is stuttered, her attempts to keep everything quiet obvious, and he grins.

“You’re doing so well at staying quiet, Ames … god you’re so sexy.” Tongue sweeping against hers, absorbing the moans that were gaining in intensity, Jake’s thumb rubs persistently at her clit, matching the tempo of her rotating wrist as they push each other closer and closer to the edge.

“Oh god Jake … fuck me. Fuck me now, fuck me hard.”

Looping his elbow under one of her knees, Jake moves into position and enters Amy in a single thrust, feeling momentarily breathless as the warmth of her surrounds him completely. Her other leg swings around to rest on his butt, holding him close as he pulls out and slams back in again, and truly, this has to be the closest thing to heaven.

Pressing one hand into the base of the landing, Jake pushes down for leverage as he returns his right hand to Amy’s clit - resuming the circled patterns he’d initiated earlier - and Amy sinks her teeth into Jake’s shoulder as she comes with a muffled shout. The feeling of her walls pulsing around his cock makes him descend into a state of almost madness, increasing the intensity of his thrusts until it’s all just pure instinct, chasing the euphoric high but nowhere near ready for any of this to end.

Slipping her other leg from his grip, Amy digs her fingers into Jake’s shoulders as she rolls him onto his back, keeping their hips joined as much as possible to avoid any chance of disruption. Her body is slick with sweat as she rises above him, planting her hands on his chest and looking down at her husband with a flushed and satisfied grin, rising and falling as she takes over Jake’s steady pace.

“This is the best idea you’ve ever had,” she whispers, leaning down to circle her tongue over his nipples, sucking a love bite into his pec as she goes. “Fuck, this feels so good.” Rising again, Amy leans back until her hair is trailing down her spine, and the sight in front of him nearly pushes Jake over the edge completely.

She looked so incredible like this, bare and open and clearly just letting her body take over as she swivels her hips into his thrusts, his cock glistening with her arousal as she slides up and down. Jake has known, for a long time now, that there is nobody in the world that could ever be as beautiful as Amy Santiago, and tonight only serves to solidify his belief.

There’s a bit more of a curve to her skin now, a soft swell to her belly that stands as proof of the their amazing son; and he knows that at times she feels self-conscious of the changes she cannot control, but he fell in love with Amy for a million reasons, and her body was only one of them. His body has changed as well, after all; and probably will again over the course of the next fifty years, and there is nothing that will ever change the way they feel about each other.

He tents his legs to a low degree behind her, offering support as his hands begin to cover every expanse of her body, thumbing the inverted arch of her breasts with reverence as they bounce against their joint movements. Jake's not sure if he’ll ever win the lottery, but it’s clear that he’s already reached the jackpot right here in this moment, watching Amy hurtle ever closer to another orgasm.

It’s the faltered breaths and the occasional stilling of her hips that tells Jake that his wife is nearly there, and with gentle coaxing she falls forward again, mashing her lips against his as their chests press together. Knowing that this is an angle that both of them enjoy, Jake digs his fingers into Amy’s butt as he lifts his hips off the ground, hammering into Amy as the steady motion presses her clit against his pelvis, whispering her name over and over as her fingers grip his hair by the roots. Her body begins to shake, followed by a whisper of babe I’m close, and Jake pushes his body a degree or two higher.

There’s a sharp sting against his skin as Amy comes, her mouth clamped over the edge of his shoulder as the need to scream is just too powerful, the vibrations of her moans reverberating into his intoxicated mind. The sheer mixture of pleasure and pain is all Jake needs to let go completely, pouring himself inside his wife as calls out her name without suppression, and Amy’s hand clamps quickly over his mouth before the sound of his climax can travel too far.

It takes a long while for either Jake or Amy to be able to speak, their bodies a jumble mess as they struggle to catch their breath, the silence only broken as Amy cranes her neck back towards the sky and gasps - “Wow, you really can see so many stars from here!”

From beside her Jake nods, still partially in a state of seeing stars of his own as his heart begins to return to a normal pace. He lets out a gradual sigh as Amy shifts closer to him, curling her arm around his waist and tucking her head into his shoulder.

Wrapping his left arm around her naked body (he’s not sure there’ll ever be a time when he will ever have enough of it), Jake raises his right hand for a high five. “We did it, Ames. We broke the curse.”

Amy’s responding laugh is loud, and probably carried over the grounds, but Jake doesn’t care at all anymore, and she meets his hand with a triumphant slap. “Yeah we did! Suck it, universe!”

His grip grows tighter, seizing the blanket with the tips of his fingers and sliding it over their skin before his wife has a chance to feel the coolness of the night’s sky. He knows that they should probably head downstairs soon, sneak back into their bedroom and relieve Aunty Roro of her babysitting duties, but the afterglow of this moment feels too sweet to give away - Mac has been sleeping through the night for a solid two months now, and he knows that if anything had gone wrong they’d have known well before now.

Amy’s lips ghost against his bicep as she lets her eyelids flutter close for a moment (a post-sex power nap often needed, rarely lasting longer than thirty minutes), and Jake smiles at the sight, letting her nestle in to his embrace as he gazes through the glass ceiling above them to watch the stars.

He already knows that he won’t be able to find anything brighter than their future up there in the darkness, but for now, he’s content to watch the world pass them by for just a little bit longer.

#I hope you like this!#best of both worlds with the smut and fluff again #b99fandomevents #b99 summer 2020 fic exchange #my writing #Peraltiago smut #Peraltiago fluff #b99fic #b99 fic

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aconstantache · 3 years

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MY FAVOURITE ROMANCE NOVELS OF 2020

HM: The Minute I Saw You by Paige Toon; Fair As A Star by Mimi Matthews; You Deserve Each Other by Sarah Hogle

10. Take A Hint, Dani Brown by Talia Hibbert - loved, loved, loved these MCs. They were both so well-realised and multi-faceted. Zafir may be one of my favourite heroes ever and the depiction of a South Asian family here is also an all-time fave?? No boring, tired, sad diaspora vibes? No overused tropes re: Muslims? MIRACULOUS. So Zaf is a romance novel-reading lover of love and Dani is Not About Relationships. Unstoppable force meets immovable object etc etc.

9. Two Rogues Make A Right by Cat Sebastian - the ultimate in hurt/comfort decadence. Literally the entire plot is one person is really sick and the other person spends the entire rest of the book looking after them. LIKE, MAYBE THAT IS THE ONLY THING THAT HAPPENS? It takes a bit to get into it but also the sick one is kinda villainous and the one looking after him believes there’s good in him despite all evidence to the contrary. V good dynamic!

8. Wild At Heart by K.A. Tucker - I read and LOVED The Simple Wild last year and was so happy the author decided to write a sequel. I would read ALL the books about these two characters just living their life in this universe. I know Tucker is branching out and writing about other characters in the ‘verse and: eh. I only want to read about Calla riding snowmobiles and Jonah telling her how competent she is I’m sorry!!! Wild At Heart focuses less on romance and more on Calla getting used to Alaska but it’s still satisfying seeing them work out how to compromise and start a new life together.

7. Beach Read by Emily Henry - I love when a romance novel has a lot of hype and it lives up to expectations (see The Roommate for the opposite, ugh that book was bad.) Honestly I get off just on the blurb of this book: he writes pretentious literary fiction! she’s a bestselling romance author! they help each other write and slowly fall in love at the same time! It also deals with slightly heavier themes and there is focus on a recent death and some other stuff which I know a few people struggled with but there’s plenty of humour and light-heartedness so it all works imo

6. A Dangerous Kind of Lady by Mia Vincy - It is so rare for me to like every book in a Historical Romance series but Mia Vincy’s Longhope Abbey is 3/3 atm. I loved the first two (as mentioned last year) and this one is an A+ addition (ngl I have qualms about the fourth book but I think MV has won some trust at this point so.) We originally met these MCs in the first book when they were introduced as very happily married and devoted so rewinding to them being conflict-stricken and angst-ridden youths was great.

5. You Say It First by Katie Cotugno - So I simultaneously adored this and also found it irritating. This book focuses on ‘liberal’ Meg who has progressive values and is very involved in things like voter registration phonebanks. She ends up on the phone with Colby who is her age and struggling with his family’s lack of money, his dead-end job, etc and has no time to discuss how the electoral system could help him. From a political point this had the potential to be really interesting but I think it’s pretty mishandled by the author. I think she could have done a much better job at writing a character who has no faith in the political system for valid reaons but like, some of Colby’s opinions are just nonsensical? Also Meg often feels ‘liberal’ in a way that is twee and annoying and superficial. Why did I place this so high when I have such a list of complaints??? Despite all this, the relationship between Meg and Colby is so sweet and satisfying and well-built. Most it it takes place over the phone and I love that liminal space that exists just for the two of them. It managed to outweight my negatives!!!

4. If We Were Us by K.L. Walther - I know people have had qualms with this book but I still loved it. The boarding school vibes; the friendships; the siblings. Quintessential YA things done well! Sage and Charlie are best friends and would be perfect together (valedictorian types) except Sage is far more into Charlie’s twin brother (v not valedictorian type) and Charlie isn’t into girls at all. Two good, satisfying romantic relationships found here folks!

3. Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall - FAKE DATING EXCELLENCE. I think every year I need something new to fill this particular category and Boyfriend Material is a really stellar entry. That being said, I don’t think there’s much actual fake dating going on in this book apart from premise-wise but we move! Luc and Oliver have a good mix of awareness and conflict so you get the Good Stuff TM of them being together and sweet and wonderful while still having to wait for their climactic Get Together.

2. Today Tonight Tomorrow by Rachel Lynn Solomon - I’m obsessed with “I’ve hated you all along! Wait... have I?” narratives and it’s executed so perfectly here. Rowan and Neil are two massive nerds and competitive rivals who end up spending their last hours of school together. There is very little plot to this book - it is almost 100% relationship development and hangout time - which is almost always all I ever want from romance.

1. Mix Tape by Jane Sanderson - I read this all the way back in January (what a completely different time in the world!) so it’s a testament to how good it is that I still feel strongly enough about it to give it pride of first place. This is the kind of book - because it’s not reeeeally genre fiction - that seems destined for a sad or, at the very least, ambigious ending but (HA!) it provides a warm, wholly satisfying happily ever after. Anyway if you’re into second chances after decades and decades apart and people communicating through songs and yearning and never being able to Let Go - this is for you!

#romance novels #romance recs

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all-things-are-nothing-to-me · 4 years

Text

An Obituary for Identity Politics

I began writing this text about a couple months before the uprising in response to George Floyd’s death. The uprising, which now has become a global event, has motivated me to share my perspective in this text. My experiences in Minneapolis from the 26th through the 31st of May have furthered my contempt for identity politics and so I have included additional critiques of it based on those experiences.

Rewind back to a time and place where people used pagers and pay phones. When front porches and public parks were the hang-out spots. A time when conflicts were resolved face-to-face and shit-talking came with real life consequences. These were the days before ‘call-out culture’, ‘troll-baiting’, and other internet-dominated social activities. Some say the internet and technological expansion have advanced the fight against oppression. My opinion? The internet is where all potential for social revolt goes to die. In addition to pointless petitions and endless memes, recognition as a rebel can be gained through pity parties and academic loyalty rather than hands-on direct action. While providing an excellent breeding ground for keyboard warriors and pretentious academics, the internet also allows for the stunted development of social skills necessary in navigating face-to-face communication. Conflict resolution takes the form of indefinite internet drama and at most an awkward in-real-life re-construction of judge, jury, and executioner. Face-to-face interaction is almost unnecessary in the techno-society where phones have become a personalized commodity seemingly fused to one’s hand. From a screen with adjustable dimming, a full spectrum of emotional expression can now be digitally represented from a cache of emoticons.

The internet is also a place where the lynch-mob mentality of “call-out culture” encourages people to view one another as one-dimensional beings – only defined by mistakes and imperfections. In the name of ‘social justice’ and ‘outing abusers’, a new statism emerges, utilizing fear and guilt to coerce allyship conformity. And similar to being charged by the State, once condemned on the internet, an individual may never escape that reputation. Instead, any or all personal growth and development remains trivial to the static nature of their past mistakes. Despite personal improvement, a convicted individual is sentenced to forever remain captive by the essence of their online portrayal.

In my experience as a ‘marginalized voice’ I’ve seen identity politics used by activists as a tool of social control aimed at anyone who fits the identity criteria of ‘oppressor’. The traditional power-struggle for equality has turned into an olympic sport for social leverage, inverting the same social hierarchy that should have been destroyed in the first place. Many identity politicians I’ve come across are more interested in exploiting “white guilt” for personal (and even capital) gain than physically confronting any organizational model of white supremacy. I’ve witnessed victimhood used to conceal blatant lies and bullying, motivated by personal revenge. All too often I have seen how identity politics creates a culture where personal experiences are trivialized to the point of passive silence. But this is all old news. Any experienced, self-identifying anarchist has seen or probably experienced some form of being ‘called-out’ or ‘cancelled’. So why do I bring it up? Because I still see this shit happening and I still see so many people lacking the courage to openly confront it.

I don’t expect this text to bring identity politics to a grinding halt. I am merely expressing my hostility for it and its authoritarian, anti-individualist nature. I still see self-proclaimed anarchists fussin’ over ‘white’ dreads (as well as seeing people cut their dreads under social pressure). I still see people justify voting like they did for Obama (this time it’s for Bernie). And I still see ‘allies’ mumbling frustration under their breath, too scared to confront the authoritarianism they see right in front of ‘em.

How many ‘white’ anarchists were called racist (or privileged) and shamed for refusing to vote this past 2020 election?

Imagine what anarchy would look like if people refused to obey the condescending demands of identity politicians. Would people feel more free to explore their lives beyond the narrow limitations of prescribed identity? Would they fearlessly reclaim their power to formulate their own opinions? Is there a joy to be experienced in the hysterical mockery of academic elitism?

Would this text be less valid if it wasn’t written by a queer person of color? What if I was a ‘white’, ‘cis’ ‘male’? Why would it matter?

In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t. Because after all, this isn’t just about identity. This is about anti-authoritarian anarchy. If there is one thing I have seen the most in the past few years, it’s how identity politics moves like a plague, consuming every social space — ironically including anarchist circles. For me, anarchy is about destroying socially assigned identity and all the limitations it imposes upon the imagination. Anarchy is an individualist experience that finds itself held captive by the prison of assigned identity. Rather than destroying that prison along with the society that constructs it, anarchism today has become a cemetery of dead potential, internalized victimhood, and an ideological competition for who is ‘most oppressed’.

Rather than taking aim at identity itself and the apparatus maintaining this paradigm, energy is spent tearing one another down, ignoring the complexity of individual uniqueness, and playing the State’s role of defining each other based on membership to identity categories. Embracing a particular identity only reaffirms that identity’s existence as a ‘universal ‘truth’ – and therefore, by the colonial intentions of assigned identity, the servitude and enslavement of some to others as a universal truth as well.

I refuse to participate in upholding enslavement as a condition of my existence, and therefore these ‘truths’ are nothing more than political works of fiction. They are the products of a well-perfected, socially engineered god-complex that enters the mind like parasitic cordyceps, demanding unquestionable obedience. The atom of mental manipulation is a mind institutionalized by the incarceration of industrial society. Identity politics are the antiquated chains of colonization, polished by those who assign personal value to them. These ‘truths’ are the social constructs of control, keeping the life of rebellion shackled in a cold well of reform. And while many have become comfortable there, I have broken out to explore the infinite unknown terrain of hedonism and anti-political anarchy. ‘Black’, ‘Brown’, or ‘White’ power is the antithesis of freedom; it is the ideological charity work of a civilized, humanist form of rebellion. Identity politics is the sterilization of individuality, rendering it both obedient to the collectivist authority of identity and gullible to the nationalist myth of supremacy.

Ultimately, the ‘human’ is an animal domesticated with labels socially constructed to correspond to a hierarchy of economic status. And though this hierarchy has changed over the years, it is constantly held in place by a relationship of those who make demands and those who obey. No matter how the categories are arranged, the hierarchy represents authoritarianism; the group dominating the individual. What defines a ‘human’ is the degree of obedience and commitment to civilized roles and behaviors required by industrial society. The less cooperative a ‘human’ is, the more likely that ‘human’ will be compared to an animal. The animal is the undesireable being – even for the identity politicians who prefer to adopt the colonizers’ ideological anthropocentrism. Perhaps this explains why there is such little discussion on animal liberation in leftist-anarchist writing. The marginalized voice is more concerned with being portrayed as equal to the civilized colonizer than with the lost connection between their animality and the earth. At the core of leftist politics is the humanist aim for social equality within industrial progress — all while the earth continues to be cut up into nation-states and ravaged for anthropocentric exploitation and expansion.

It is my opinion that as long as one maintains a personal relationship with the ‘human’ identity, similar to ‘white’ or ‘male’ identities, the individual will only continue to reinforce the colonial paradigm of civilized vs savage. And as long as this reinforcement continues, the individual also remains vulnerable to imprisonment within other identity constructs that further suppress feral potential.

I wonder when or if anarchists in general will move beyond the group-mentality of leftism toward individualist insurgency — recognizing confrontation with identity as an act of personal emancipation. Will anarchists one day come to realize that anyone or anything above the individual represents an authority figure – whether it be “The Commune”, the “Movement”, or the cultural governance of identity? Maybe some, but I am sure not all.

The Victimhood Saint

After a 45 minute drive we finally arrive. It’s been a long day of retail theft and this is the last stop. It’s my turn and I plan to walk out with at least $500+ worth of merchandise for online resell. But I’m already gettin’ a bad feeling from this place. Unlike the other locations, this store is much smaller which to me means Loss Prevention will have a visual advantage watching the doors. Bigger places mean the enter and exit doors are spread further apart. In addition, the bigger the store, the more difficult it is to keep track of every shopper through the cameras. I decide to go for it anyways. Never know anything for sure until ya try.

I walk in, grab a cart and begin searching for the specific items I plan to take. I also scan the check out lanes and customer service desk. Two customer service employees busy chatting, check out lanes all blocked off except the one near the entrance and two near the exit. The entrance lane has a worker wiping down carts. One exit lane has a cashier, the lane next to it is totally empty. I take note of it as looking “too easy”, but I decide to refocus on where my items are located in the store. After loading my cart I start my journey to the exit. For anyone who shoplifts for a living, they know this is the exciting part. Every moment up to this point I’ve been just a regular shopper. But now, as I walk toward the exit, I begin to shed the costume of “shopper” and prepare for the criminal experience of “shoplifter”. As my heart starts to pound I feel my nerves initiate a well — developed calming response where I temporarily disassociate from the panic in order to keep my senses sharp and focused. I have to be ready for anything. And I still have to maintain my “regular shopper” face and body language. As I pass through the “too easy” lane everything looks good.

Customer service people are still chatting not paying attention, the one cashier is too busy ringing up someone to notice. I pull out my fake receipt and casually make my way through the first set of exit doors. If I was seen or caught, this is about the moment I would hear someone approach me from behind or feel someone grab my shoulder. Out the second set of doors, all is good. Time to start making my way toward the back of the parking lot – and then it happened...

Anyone who has ever shoplifted long enough knows these dreaded words: “Sir... Sir!”. I hear someone behind me yell out. I pretend to not hear it. Then I hear quick footsteps approach from behind. “Sir, I need to see your receipt” he says as he flashes me his Loss Prevention badge. Fuck. Where did this clean-cut lookin’ hipster see me? Must have been in the clothes area behind me... maybe that lane was a fucking trap? Doesn’t matter. Let go of the cart and walk away. I start to walk away and I hear “No no...sir we have to go back inside and fill out paperwork. Don’t worry you will not be arrested”. Yeah, fill out paperwork with all my information, have my picture taken for their records – fuck that. I continue walking away. Another LP runs out and is on the phone. This guy is on the phone with the police. I instantly realize the first guy was secretly stalling me till the police got there! I break out in full run. I hear them both running close behind me. I cross the street and bolt into a trailer park, zig zag between trailer homes and finally hide out in a steel shed. I force my paniced breathing to quiet deep breaths. I calm down and listen to them searching for me nearby.

Finally after not hearing them anymore I text my accomplices a rough idea of where I am. I come out of the shed, trying to tidy up a couple things that fell inside from when I stormed in there. The cops will be here any second. I see my accomplices car slowly drive by and wave em down. I jump in and lay down and we drive off.

I should have trusted my instinct. This was a bad run. But it could have been worse. Instead of being in jail tonight, I am comfortably here writing this text. But this is the reality of shoplifting – or any crime for that matter. No matter how many times you get away with it, it is important to expect to get caught one day. Be ready for it. And when it happens, study the panic, the emotions, the physical responses... know it all well. So the next time you engage in criminal activity, you have a better understanding of the worst case scenario. For me, this is elementary, and there is no place for victimhood or or an outcry of innocence.

While Covid-19 created the conditions for state repression in the form of “stay-at-home” orders, ironically my opportunity for illegalist fun has expanded! Many businesses are left unattended for weeks at a time, meaning property damage goes longer without being reported. In the midst of the panic, supermarket Loss Prevention and security personnel are focused on the number of items people purchase in each cart without realizing the cartloads of food quietly slipping out the other door.

Before shutting down, many stores like REI, L.L Bean and other places would deactivate their security towers. I am guessing this was due to the high volume of people passing through with purchased merch with hidden tags still attached. Probably to avoid the annoyance of the alarm going off every few seconds, the towers were turned off, leaving open a grand opportunity to simply walk out with security tagged items hassle-free.

The past few weeks got me revisiting old memories of when my understanding of anarchy was that of an activity that only lasted as long as a may day march, a demonstration, or night-time fun. I remember feeling like anarchy was the moment I wore black pants, shoes, gloves and a t-shirt around my face. After these activities it was back to the “real world”. Back to wage-slavery, back to the daily routine of paying rent and penny-pinching my food stamps for groceries. Sure, there was the occasional clandestine activity along with tabling zines at punk shows or radical events. But there was this divide that always created a separation, always treating anarchy like an extra-curricular activity. Sure, my life was committed to rebellion; the very concept of a zine distro before I named it “Warzone Distro” was conceived while wasting company time on the shitter. Despite wage-slaving, my mind was always fixated on understanding how to cut corners and work the least for the most amount of money. I was the worker who handed my extra hours over to others. Half-day at work due to light truck load? Hell yeah, I’m out!

Over time, anarchy as mere extra-curricular activity just wasn’t enough. And what I mean by that is I became less and less tolerable of bosses, wage-slaving, alarm clocks, paying rent, and penny-pinching. I remembered what it was like being a kid and not having to conform to such obligations. I remembered adventuring all day outside from early morning to late at night. Everyday was a new adventure, and everyday I was learning something new about myself. Then, as a responsible adult I was learning something new about myself. I hated adultism, adulting, and the performative role and identity of “adult”. But I wasn’t tryin’ to become a child again. Those days have come and gone. I began to wonder what an anarchist life that transcended the adult/child binary could look like.

Fast forward years later here I am, jobless but no longer penny-pinching, and older but more youthful than I have ever been. Some say I am the worst of all worlds; hedonistic, violent, and childish. Of course, what these words mean and how they are applied to me is subjective to interpretation, but one thing is for certain; I feel far more free than I have ever felt and experienced. And I have a love affair with crime. It is an intimate experience — committing crime with a furious contempt for society and the law. Causing disruption and getting away with it compliments my desires for anarchy moment by moment. Nowadays I adventure all day outside from early morning to late at night. And with every criminal activity I am learning more and more about myself. In addition to accepting the fact that my days of joy-riding the fuck out of life will either end in prison or sudden death, I am learning to appreciate the present more than the past or future.

One thing about crime that I have come to realize is a uniqueness that comes with breaking the law, a sense of individual ability, inability, strengths and weaknesses. All are discovered within the experience of breaking the law. And it is this experience that I intend to expand in order to discover more about myself, becoming ungovernable in an anti-social sense.

I reflect back on my past self imprisoned by the cult of identity-politics. I remember how one reason to glorify victimhood was to gain social attention and portray the (marginalized) identities assigned to me in a positive light. “Look at me! A responsible queer person of color holding down a job as a law-abiding citizen!”. But why? So I could prove how similar I was to all those ‘white’ hard-working class heroes that America needs to uphold its colonial establishment? Another wage-slave to passively, willfully accept the conditions of my enslavement? To become another christian of color pretending there is an imaginary kingdom above for all us hoodlums that just never got a fair chance in life? Fuck all that.

The reasons for white supremacists, homophobes, patriarchs, and patriots to fear people like me is beyond identity politics; I am a sworn enemy of their control and order. The societal castle they seek to build and maintain will always be the target of my sabotage!

I think most people can see and understand that embracing socially assigned identities is not necessary for understanding how society utilizes them as tools for social control. I think it is equally as easy to see how identity as a tool of revolution is limited and in fact has led to internal conflict within many revolutionary projects. But what blows my mind is the fact that for so many, these identities were not immediately rejected as a primal, personal form of rebellion. But to be fair I think it is safe to say that these identities maintained the power they do because they are so frequently used by leftist organizations for moral persuasion. Through victimhood and innocence, identity politics is used as an appeal-to-all method of creating group-think that ultimately encourages an individual to surrender independent thinking to a god-complex of morality and collectivism. I think this also plays a pretty big role in statism and the rejection of illegalist revolt.

I reject the statist, civilized binary of guilt and innocence, and therefore also reject the internalization of victimhood. I have no use for “call-out culture” or an internet lynch-mob against my enemies. On the internet, attempts to gain public support against one enemy only informs and empowers another enemy (the state) to confiscate my responsibility. And guilt and innocence is a legalistic binary that only serves to judge and divide based on moral determination. I despise the State, all its social manifestations, and it’s enforcement of repression against chaos. Therefore I am not a victim; I am a self-declared enemy in a war against it. I don’t expect pity, a pardon or charity from it, nor from its defenders.

It was the day Chicago issued its Stay-At-Home order. My partner-in-crime and I were in my home town visiting my mom. While driving home from getting my mom some groceries I notice someone sitting on a park bench alone. “Big Momma” is her name. I was surprised to see her outside in the cold and not indoors at one of the local shelters. Come to find out the shelters had closed their doors probably related to Covid-19. I started to wonder how many others were outside in the cold...

My partner and I head over to a park that I used to do Food Not Bombs at and to my surprise there are about 20 people set up camp outside a building’s air vent blowing out warm air. We walk over and ask how everyone is doing. Some people, after recognizing me from activist projects years ago, excitedly run over to greet me. They are all the unlucky ones locked out of the shelters at least for that weekend. My partner and I get back in the car and come up with a plan.

A half hour later we are at another grocery store. Unlike other times, getting out of this one with free food is going to be a little difficult. The set-up has changed due to heightened security at the door due to Covid-19 and the fear of looting. But it is still possible to get out with a full cart. We load the bottom of the cart with bottled water, multiple loaves of bread, peanut butter, jelly, over 20 bags of mixed dried fruit, fresh apples and bananas. Were ready. We make our way to the door with me leading. My role is to peer around the corner at two self-check out clerks to make sure they aren’t looking. If they are, I will pull out my phone like I am making a phone call. If not, I keep walking forward. My partner and the cart close behind, the coast is clear. First set of doors... second set of doors... all good. Finally get to the car and unload into the trunk. Success! Next stop is another grocery store, but we won’t be getting food at this one: we’re raiding the men’s and women’s bathrooms for huge rolls of toilet paper. The dispensers can be a little loud opening sometimes, but relatively easy to do with any kind of house key. Two backpacks filled with about three huge rolls each, we are all set.

Back at my moms we clean our hands thoroughly before making bags and bags of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Once we finish with that were off back to the homeless encampment. Every person gets two sandwiches, two apples, two bananas, some dried fruit and a bottle of water. In addition we wrap the toilet paper rolls in the grocery bags to keep dry and pass them out. We stick around for a bit and exchange laughs and talk shit on the cops. It was good to make new friends and catch up with old friends. It was good to see they were all maintaining and in high spirits despite the circumstances of the weather and the shelter closures. We left and decided to check other parks for people. Found a few lone wolves who happily took what we had left of the water and sandwiches. We arrive back at my mom’s house and settle in for the night. I open the fridge and giggle while scanning over all the stolen vegan food contemplating what to have for dinner.

The Allyship Coward

In my opinion, the concept of “Allyship” started with good intentions, but like other aspects of identity politics became sour and ready for immediate disposal. Here is how I feel about “Allyship”: If you need a politicized buzzword and concept to motivate you to build bonds with people across gendered or racial categories, your “solidarity” is disingenuous. If your style of communicating is loaded with talking points pre-approved by some Woke Ally 101 workshop, you have become a free-range puppet. Genuine mutual aid or solidarity doesn’t require trendy twitter phrases to motivate bond building. In other words, don’t work with me only because that’s what you read is the “right” thing to do, or because your progressive college professor told you to. Don’t kiss my ass and follow me because I am a victimized, ‘marginalized’ or ‘poc voice’. Or because your friends or comrades will guilt you. Don’t let something as fake as socially constructed categories define our relationship. Work with me only if you personally enjoy our interaction, my personality and most importantly you want to out of individual desire. I don’t believe in coercive mutual aid: it makes a fool out of two people at once.

There are also those who assume they know how other people think based on racial and gendered assumptions. These are the identity politicians who act as both police and representatives of others, coercing allyship through guilt and shaming campaigns. Using their identity, they declare themselves beyond reproach while utilizing a passive-aggressive method of communication for intimidation. But in my opinion, nobody is obligated to support or listen to them, or any one, especially based on something as flat as identity. I am always weary of those who talk as if they represent the interests of people they have never met. It is foolish to think that just because people are socially assigned similar identities that every individual subscribes to the stereotypes of those identities.

Identity politics has successfully offered an understanding of how civilized society works, but as a solution to tearing it all down only leads to boundary policing identities, nationalism, internalized victimhood, and more stereotypes for people to find themselves fighting against.

Wanna know someone’s experience? Interact with them directly. Don’t make assumptions based on social constructions. Wanna show solidarity with people? Treat them as individuals with unique experiences and histories, not as mere drone members of homogenized groupings. And to those who still obey without questioning, another word for white ally is still coward!

The Woke Leadership

Personally, I don’t like to use the word “educate” to describe the communication of ideas between two individuals. “Educate” implies the instillation of universal “truths” rather than the horizontal exchange of personal perspectives. The context of which I see this word “Educate” used the most reinforces a social hierarchy between those who are “woke” and those who are not. Do people actually learn anything when the communication of ideas is asserted in a top-down manner? Maybe. But I prefer not to entertain that hierarchy.

Individual people are more than just ‘white’, ‘brown’ or ‘black’, ‘male’ or ‘female’, or whatever social construction assigned to them at birth. Therefore, communicating with identity-based assumptions will almost always come off as condescending. I see shit like “educate your friends”, or “get educated”, as if to direct toward a Church of Social Justice in order to be “awakened”. And apparently the capitalist mentality of further monetizing information is acceptable without question. Some think the ‘labor’ of answering questions merits a wage, citing something as voluminous as a Google search if one is unable to pay. Ironically, many questions come in good-faith, and are from well-intending activists who endure being talked down to in the first place. In my opinion, this elitist way of responding to well-intending people discourages their empowerment by trivializing their personal histories and guilting them into accepting others as paramount. There is a collectivism to this method of “educating” which creates the foundation of another social system of coercion. I have no interest in contributing to the materializing of that. I can offer a critical view or counter a point without socially stratifying the exchange.

I consider each and every individual mind a rushing, wild waterway of ideas that spill out when the dam of social subordination breaks down. Society collectively discourages any wildness, domesticating the individual and ultimately creating a caged animal within the mind. Beneath all the social conditioning there is a unique individual that discovers itself in chaotic contradiction with society.

Uniformity is the enemy of free expression. There is no “education”, only popular opinion enforced by those who intend to think for others. I think ideas and perspectives can be exchanged in a way that doesn’t resemble an authoritarian model of top-down communication. I’m not an educator and I seek to educate no one. Rather, as they grow and develop, I share my personal experiences and ideas with the world with the understanding that others will differ and have unique experiences of their own.

For example one thing that I have come to realize is that the illegalist life isn’t for everyone. I have seen some people do it for a while and ultimately break under the weight of the very real stress of criminal activity. So when I write these words about criminality – and my contempt for identity politics – I speak only for myself. When I began writing “Descending into Madness”, it was the same night I had walked out of a Seattle REI with two packs worth over $300 each. The security tower alarms never went off as I walked right out with two rope-style security tags attached. Prior to walking out I joked with myself that my criminal affairs indicated that I was descending into madness because attempting this was fucking crazy. And then I was successful. And I realized on the car ride home that if it wasn’t for entertaining such courageous insanity I might not have never known that some of these stores have non-operational security towers.

In my opinion, the “Woke Leadership” of leftism leads anarchism over a cliff into a downward accelerating disintegration. Paralyzed by the fear and shame enforced by a new order, some anarchists will never make it to self-emancipation, or independent thinking as a rejection of group-think authority. It is by a narrow, liberal definition of anti-oppression that many individuals define themselves as anarchists – a type of definition that limits anti-oppression to the moralist, humanist confines of civilized society. It is not a coincidence that most anti-oppression praxis requires a statist apparatus to enforce laws that accommodate equal rights. And while there’s nothing wrong with people having equal rights under capitalism, that victory celebrates the power of statist reform rather than anti-authoritarian attack. And in front of this statist power are the “community leaders” or those who have no interest in critiquing authority. Instead, they have built their socio-political careers on petty reforms in the name of “the community” and scold radicals – calling them “outside agitators”. And following behind these leaders are ‘white’ anarchist allies, confused and frustrated, trying to decide between being called a racist for setting shit on fire or a good ally for kissing a ‘black’ preacher’s ass.

“What you or I may or may not consider ‘tactical’ isn’t really relevant. This is less a war in the traditional sense and more a storm -uncontrollable and chaotic. This is one of the problems with the left’s characterization of ‘the movement’ as something uniform, monolithic, and ideologically consistent. It isn’t. It won’t be. ‘The movement’ consists of a million individuals with their own individual views and opinions and actions, and it does no one any good to deride anyone who isn’t doing things exactly the way you see fit.” Baba Yaga

Another Word For “Black Leadership” is Authoritarianism

After marching, we arrive at the 3rd Precinct at East Lake St and Minnehaha Ave. BLM organizers begin howling into the megaphone about demands, with a few prayers and droning chants mixed in. I notice someone slowly creeping up behind me who starts bangin’ his fist on the window. Concerned it will break, three bystanders begin quietly shaming him “this ain’t the place for that, keep it peaceful!”. The person responds back quietly but with angry tension in his voice “that’s the fuckin’ problem, y’all muthafuckas never wanna do shit except march and chant...”. Discouraged, he starts to walk away. “I’m with you on that shit fo real tho” I tell him. “That’s what’s up – fuck all this other shit” he responds while walking away. A minute or so later, I lose my patience for listening to BLM talk about being peaceful and decide to go look for that same individual again. I round the corner to the back of the police station and notice a commotion. A group of about 5–7 ‘black’ folks are blocking the back glass doors of the police station, arguing with a group of about 20 ‘black’ and ‘brown’ angry youth – including the one from earlier. Unable to contain my own frustration I get caught up arguing with the police-defenders as well. Finally, in the middle of the shouting a couple of ‘black’ and ‘brown’ youth begin spray painting “fuck 12” near the commotion. Cheers behind me erupt from a crowd that has now tripled in size. A brawl breaks out near the doors, and then a single rock smashes through the precinct window and is immediately followed by a hail storm of rocks, street cones, water bottles, and anything else within reach. The group of 5–7 ‘black’ pacifists cry out in desperation to stop the destruction, going as far as attempting to physically detain people, but ultimately are overwhelmed. They try to collect the rocks after being thrown and find themselves in multiple physical confrontations while doing so. People from the front of the building run over and join in on the vandalism. Eventually after every window is smashed the crowd moves toward the police parking lot and begin damaging police cars. I finally pause to catch a breath when I hear a stun grenade go off. The police run out from another door and begin shooting rubber bullets and tear gas. The crowd disperses but with hysterical laughs of joy and accomplishment. The 3rd Precinct is in ruins — and little did I know this was all just the beginning.

The very next day a bigger crowd of mostly ‘black’ and ‘brown’ youth showed up and continued to wage war on the 3rd Precinct. By night, a three mile radius was liberated from police control by the people on those streets. The 3rd Precinct was breached and taken over. Police abandoned the area all together. Their building was looted and cop cars driven into the street and set on fire. A Target across the parking lot was broken into and looted along with other stores nearby. People celebrated the victory by shooting off their guns in the air. Strangers sang and danced around burned out cop cars, exchanged high-fives in passing, and shared looted food. People casually socialized in front of burning buildings while others threw rocks through the remains of store front windows for target practice.

While it might have seemed like a perfect utopia, it wasn’t divorced from reality. Fights broke out between small factions of people and long-awaited personal conflicts were solved in the now cop-free streets. Business owners shot and killed looters and low-income housing units burned to the ground. But this is the difference between the textbook, sugar-coated ideologies of politics and raw, unmediated rage. The revolt didn’t happen due to any teachings of Mao or religious messages from a god. The fires, looting, and attacks against police didn’t need Marxism, a transcript of The Coming Insurrection, or an academic course on the history of anarchism. All that was needed was the chaotic expression of rage against representations of authority.

As expected, many people on the internet – including many self-proclaimed anarchists — passed judgement on the situation – most often coming from an ideological position that placed value in uniformity and a narrowed range of “acceptable” forms of revolt. In my experience, uprisings like this flourish best when least controlled or organized. The more that expressions of anger are controlled and organized the less anarchistic they become — essentially becoming pacified to accommodate a particular political vision. For me that is undesirable and also unrealistic. Destruction is destruction, violence will be violence, and to expect an uprising to be anything less is naive at best. While some can sit on the sidelines and moralize specific tactics or forms of emotional expression, they disregard the reality that full-fledged warfare has no inherent morality. Businesses that were boarded up and declared “black owned” weren’t spared by any moral consideration; they too were broken into, looted, and subsequently burned to the ground.

Also, in my opinion, the more uncontrollable and unmanageable an uprising remains, the less likely the police will have the ability to adapt to its formation and dominate it. The police had the least control over hundreds of individuals rebelling in such a chaotic manner as to overwhelm them and send them fleeing.

Over the next few days, attacks against the 5th Precinct happened while liberals, pacifists, and identity politicians quietly crawled back to avenge their loss and inability to control the first riot. The internet became their ground zero for one of the worst campaigns of lies and fear mongering I have personally ever seen.

As the victories of burning cop cars and police stations circulated online from all over the states, liberals rushed to the scenes in a desperate authoritarian attempt to assert their ideological morality and political program. They insist on a narrative that labels anyone who engages in sabotage as a “white supremacist” or “undercover cop” “infiltrating” the uprising.

Many of these liberals are the same ‘black’ people who failed to stop ‘black’ and ‘brown’ rebels from looting and destroying property. They failed to convince all ‘white’ people to evacuate the riots (because even some ‘white’ people knew not all ‘black’ or ‘brown’ people have a problem with them being there – recognizing their value as accomplices). And in an effort to preserve capitalist, reformist values, liberals of all races sought to halt the looting and vandalism by bombarding social media with blatantly false information. This false information is riddled with catch phrases like “outside agitators” and “white supremacists” in order to emotionally motivate readers to chose a side within a false dichotomy. And those who are not physically on the streets or there with rebels battling police are the target audience of these narrowed, inaccurate representations of reality.

Different ideological motives create different interpretations of events. And since liberals and pacifists tend to dominate social media more than those who are too busy out in the streets, they have an advantage. And since liberals morally frame all people of color as obedient, victimist heroes, most people have difficulty admitting that people of color are capable of destroying property and participating in violent forms of protest. This also plays into the compulsion to blame ‘white’ people for forms of rebellion considered morally undesirable. Riots/uprisings are not all utopian and pretty. They are the dangerous elements of liberation that occur when all other options have failed. Whether people are afraid of violence or not won’t change the fact that police kill, and will continue to kill as long as the concept of law enforcement exists. In my opinion there is no “bettering” the police, and there is no “justice” when someone is already being buried six feet deep.

And the police are not all ‘white’. ‘Black’ cops kill ‘black’ people too.

The worst part about the online interpretation of events is that the people spreading this misinformation fail to communicate to the online-world the joy, smiles, singing and dancing of racially diverse rebels as they celebrated the destruction of the 3rd Precinct.

I mean shit, imagine being a person of color, harassed by police all your life, and then a day and night comes when you actually get to see a police station burning, and police completely abandoning the area. All this is erased from history when liberals credit it all to a group of people — white supremacists — who didn’t exist in those battles in the first place.

To this day as I write this, there are still people spreading conspiracy theories on the internet like the famous “brick bait” video of cops unloading bricks (behind their own building – not in an alley as originally propagated). While I can’t say for absolute certainty that there were no white supremacists at the events at all (I mean I saw some driving past in pickup trucks yellin’ white power shit, and the ‘brown’ dude who rolled up in a truck rockin’ pro-police slogans and a confederate flag) I sure as hell didn’t see any in the battles. I have seen pictures of ‘black’ people locking arms to protect riot police, white allies turning other ‘white’ people over to the police in the name of ‘black’ support, and ultimately police regaining control and using these pacifying efforts to brutalize peaceful protesters.

Feral Delinquency

It is my opinion that the last months expose weaknesses of civilization in very obvious ways. Governmental control had increased as a panic response to social tension and spontaneous ruptures of illegal activity. Covid-19 broke the order of daily productivity and civilized slavery, leaving people more time to contemplate their lives and the value of their free time outside of working. The uprisings in response to the murder of George Floyd demonstrated the weaknesses of the police power and control – even at their own home base. At this point I have no earthly idea what will come next.

I admit to finding it fascinating to see non-human animals and the earth flourish in the midst of our industrial despair. To see clearer skies, various animals walking the streets, flooding that loosens the foundation of this concrete jungle. I can’t help but feel both the pandemic and these continued ruptures against authority are better than a return to normality; a normality where death from industrial civilization and the State is as routine as a slaughterhouse in full operation.

I wonder what kinda conversations people are having with each other or with themselves during this blooming destabilization of domesticated order. Will more and more people seize this opportunity to express anger and frustration through random acts of violence and sabotage against one another? Against law enforcement? Against the institutions that have become weaker due to financial loss and now stand more vulnerable than ever? I can only hope the uprisings continue in some capacity – above or below ground which is personally more favorable for me at this point.

Will people beg for the return of the old daily misery of monotony, or will they explore the depths of permanent uncertainty? Return to work or rewild? I guess only time will tell.

But here, I can only speak for myself. My anarchy is my own, as are my thoughts and words in this text. I don’t write to impress any club of internet anarchists who flex intellectual texts for self-congratulatory praise. I make my diary public in an antagonistic effort to mock the victimist, anti-individualist narrative of leftism which currently dominates contemporary anarchism.

I don’t wish for a return to normality and the daily misery of industrial production. I have no desire to celebrate ridiculous “victories” such as police accountability, firings, or prison terms – which will only be followed by the rebuilding of their ruined precincts or perhaps an equally authoritarian “community-based” replacement. I desire nothing less than the total abolition of all governance and policing. And perhaps those who hold some form of elitist power will find me undesirable and will orchestrate a smear campaign against me, banning my writing and “cancel” me from their Movement. But little would they know that the days and nights, between wide fields and the stars, and between the tree tops and the ground – is the domain of my adventure! And with it is a joy that follows anarchy as a vibrant life experience rather than a measure of social capital online, or a theory frozen in an academic journal.

The internet has created a culture of desperation for social continuity and digital validation. It is the breeding ground for “new” concepts of anarchism that are nothing more than communist corpses with hipster aesthetic. Anti-civ anarchy, impregnated by leftism now displays the extent of its power with endless twitter debates on “eco-fascism”. Twitter — a place where reclaiming one’s life and body is shamed by the disciples of privilege politics – is a graveyard of voices glorifying their own death-by-internet.

My animalism looks nothing like adopting the imagery and behaviors of existing animals. Instead it is the silhouette of an illegalist, feral menace dancing around the burning prison of domestication. My abandonment of victionhood is a foreclosure on both the pity politics of morality-based organizing and the sainthood of innocence. My anarchy is an obituary for identity politics. It is a personal insurgency without a future, a dream without the anaesthesia of hope, a declaration of joy with the lifespan of an exploding bomb.

This text is dedicated to all those rebels whose only negotiation with authority is fire and destruction...I am forever inspired by your courageous wrath across racial and gendered lines... To the youth who made history on May 26th, to the rebels who perished, and to those currently held captive for their part in this war against the state. RIP George Floyd

#george floyd #minneapolis #anarcho-nihilism #anti civ #anti identity politics #identity politics #decolonialization #identity #illegalism #individualism #individualist anarchism #Nihilism #post leftism #post left anarchy #rioting #flower bomb

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politicotalk · 3 years

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Cultural Identity in Canadian Politics

When I talk to foreign people about Canadian politics, they always come to me and ask me what the hell the issues in Canada can be. That place looks like paradise land. Is the biggest issue how to avoid having your car buried in a pile of snow, or how to teach mooses how to play hockey. All countries have their internal issues, including countries such as Canada, Norway or Sweden which seem to be perfect on the outside. I’m going to try to explain what the major issues Canadian Federal politics face, issues specific to Canada.

Indigenous people Indigenous people of Canada, also refered to as the aboriginal people, have been in the shadows, cast aside, for a very long time in Canadian everyday politics. Actually, since the arrival of European colonisers in the 16th century, they have been sort of cast aside. The first Europeans to come and stay were the French, and they had a lot of issues when they came. First off, they had scurvy; the indigenous helped them with that. Secondly, they didn’t know how to survive harsh Canadian winters, the indigenous people helped them with that. French and First Nations traded with each other and created alliances and systems of relations where both parties benefited from each other’s presence. French population grew in the mean time. The British came and settled, and the tables really started to turn after the American Revolution; a lot of people living in the 13 colonies were faithful to the British Crown and fled North to modern day Canada. This brought a complete shift in demography; all of a sudden, the indigenous (and French) populations were outnumbered by the British. First Nations were pushed out of towns slowly but surely. Come the 19th century, bad boy United States was a major threat. They had something called “manifest destiny”, where they saw the West as a baren wasteland in need of colonisation by white people. The Canadian government freaked out, because this meant they could encapsulate Canada and absorb it into the United States. Well, the Canadian government also looked at the west and thought “well fuck, bud, we gotta claim this land”, so they started building a railroad from modern-day Ontario to British Columbia, all the way on the Pacific Coast. There was a big problem though, you see, this area wasn’t a wasteland; there were a lot of First Nations living there, including aboriginal and Métis people. What did the government do? Adopt the Indian Act in 1876. Yeah, no joke, it’s literally called the “Indian Act”. This land these people lived on was full of natural resources, but these people would not cede to the federal government because fuck you. So the government came up with this stupid law. Indigenous people were forbidden from creating their own governments, hold religious ceremonies, hire lawyers or go against the government over land claims. From the 20th century, when education became an important thing for children, with the help of local religious groups, the government started opening what is called “residential schools” and this is brought on a clusterfuck of problems we are faced with today.

The government gave itself the right to take Indigenous children from their families and force them to go to these schools, where they resided. The parents had no say in whether these children were allowed to go or not. These kids had their heads shaved, were forced to keep short hair, banned from wearing any traditional clothing, speak in their native languages – instead they had to speak English or French –, practice their religion – instead, they were brought into the Catholic Church or any Protestant Churches – and they were banned from contacting their families. I mention hair, some people might thing “so what?”; well, long hair is really important in Native Americans’ cultures. It’s as if you were to tell someone from Bavaria that they were no longer allowed to wear lederhosen. The point of this was to strip these kids of their identities, make them white, and so they would cede their lands more easily to the government, so it could profit off of it.

I can’t tell you how badly that backfired. From the 90’s, these poor kids who were, for the majority, adults started to take the government to court for wrongful abuse made towards them, in claims of abuse done towards them. You probably know that the Catholic Church does not have the best record, especially when it comes to violence done towards children, and Ireland was on the forefront of the international stage years ago for allegations of sexual abuse done by members of the clergy towards children. Well, this wasn’t an exception for Canada. To further prove this, the bodies of thousands of dead children were found buried all around these ex-residential schools in 2020. This was orchestrated by the Canadian government AND the Churches.

Thankfully, the Indian Act, though it still technically exists, is kinda stripped. Aboriginal people have the right to assembly, have the right to practice their religion, speak their languages, practice their cultures, etc. All good right? Right?

Well, not quite, this comes to a second point that was brought up again in the recent elections. What would the candidates do in regards to clean drinking water for the aboriginal? To examine this question, we need to rewind, again (sorry). The aboriginal live, for the majority, on what is called “reserves”. They are lands that are under their local governments’ control, where they all live. If you went to Montreal, Toronto, or even Moose Jaw, you could turn on the tap in the kitchen and drink the water there, no problem. Well, the residences on these reserves, not only are in deplorable states, but they also do not have clean, running water. Canada is not the Sahara. We are not lacking water. Canada has actually the world’s highest amount of natural drinking water. Fly over the country and it’s rivers and lakes everywhere. Yet, these people don’t have running water? So this topic has come back several times in the elections over the last 20 years and no one has done anything.

This is barely scratching the surface of issues surrounding aboriginal people in Canada. These two issues were the ones that came up in the last federal leaders’ debate.

French people Canada is a multicultural country. As mentioned before, the French-speaking population has been in Canada for over four centuries now. They have also been marginalised in some ways, and several attempts to assimilate have been made, but to no avail. Today, the French-speaking population is spread over all of Canada’s provinces, but the majority resides in the province of Quebec, where the official language is only French. Several French speakers live in Acadia (in the East of Canada) in Ontario and in Manitoba. Only New Brunswick is officially bilingual. French people – especially the people of Quebec – have seen themselves as different from the English speakers. They see themselves as an entirely different nation (I should point out that I use the term “nation” in the sense of the term synonymous with “population”). Issues flared up in the late 60’s and lead to a lot of tension in the 70’s, where the culture really started to solidify, and lead to a referendum in 1981 and 1995 in regards to whether Quebec wanted to become an independent country. In short, both times, the answer was no. In 1995, the answer was very slim, with the results being 49% to 51%. The situation in Quebec is very similar as the one in Catalonia and Scotland. 1995 might seem like yesterday to some, but I will remind you that this was 26 years ago. Things change in 26 years. New people are made, old people die. The thought of independence is a far away memory in most people’s imagination, and the young people are pretty cool with not wanting an independent country. This doesn’t mean that all of a sudden, Quebeckers are cool with the federal government and kissing the flag; they still see themselves as different, but have come to accept their place in the country, as the government has accommodated more and more for the French language, and given Quebec flexibility over their governance. But you see, Quebec’s aggressive stance over its language gives the other French speakers the ability to continue existing; media, culture and academic content come largely from Quebec. Without Quebec, these other French speaking cultures fear ceasing to exist.

So what about today? Well, firstly, the health sector is governed by the provinces. This means that Quebec was mostly in control of handling Covid, and they want to deal with all issues surrounding this.

Another thing to mention, is that, most likely because of its catholic culture, Quebec is very left leaning. Most votes for the NDP and a portion for the Liberals come from Quebec, and barely any go to the Conservative. They are in favour of public health services, public education with low fees for higher education, help to families and issues talking the environment. Canada currently heavily relies on industries in the primary sector, especially the West. So if Quebec is so in favour of not allowing pipelines to be built, or not excavating for oil, this wouldn’t affect them so much.

In conclusion, this is what Canada has to deal with, long tensions amongst its three main cultural groups. Let me know what your thoughts are and what your country is tackling in terms of internal conflicts.

#canadian politics

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decodingdissonance · 3 years

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Saturation Point Gallery, Salon 12, 2021

Congruous

In Spring 2020 Saturation Point published a short essay by Anna Fairchild, Lido Memories (Saturation Point archive). Written during the first UK Pandemic lockdown, the essay recalls Fairchild’s visits to a local outdoor Lido and the visual resonances with forms in her sculptures and feelings about the sudden restrictions imposed; a kind of rewinding of somewhat nostalgic reflections on the visual and sensory pleasures of visiting and photographing The Hitchin Swimming Centre near to where she lives in North Hertfordshire.

For the current exhibition at Saturation Point, Congruous, Fairchild has created a new body of which draws together some of these ideas and her interest in Brutalist concrete structures, in particular the Stevenage telephone exchange, Hertfordshire where she recently foraged for wild garlic. It has also been inspired by a personal collection of sedimentary and igneous rocks from the UK and a foraging interest in fungi, lichen and other plants. These structures, surfaces textures and forms have coalesced in the sculptures, creating new, partially recognisable or even unrecognisable objects, which take their inspiration from cast concrete, rock forms and organic skeletal elements. Alongside the sculpture Fairchild is exhibiting a series of photograms: Congruous Elements Kit. These photograms are made with paper photographic negatives of the one-off moulds used to cast some of the sculptural elements. They are presented as a record of the planning and construction of the pieces, but are now barely recognisable; the forms have emerged, through the process of making, as things in their own right.

In her 2010 book, Vibrant Matter, A Political Ecology of Things, Jane Bennett expounds her interest and position on New Materialism where the historically accepted hierarchy of things in the world is questioned to give parity to the animate/inanimate; organic/inorganic things we share the world with; disrupting the historical view of humans as the top of a hierarchy of things and, instead proposing that everything is material stuff, which changes and/or moves through time; mostly at a pace imperceptible by human beings; thus the hierarchy is constructed. Bennett proposes that a New Materialist view may allow a new ecology of the world around us to emerge and in doing so create a parity of things.

She states, ‘Vital Materialists will…linger in those moments during which they find themselves fascinated by objects, taking them as clues to the vital materiality we share with them…’ potentially allowing treatment of …’non-humans-animals, plants, earth, even artifacts and commodities - more carefully, more strategically, more ecologically (P.17, 2010).

Fairchild says, ‘It is this lingering over inanimate objects I have always had a fascination with; rocks; fossils; the human built environment, since a young age; growing up in a small village where play consisted mainly of scrambling, climbing, digging and finding things and listening to my father, who was an architect showing me drawings and architectural models. I suppose it is inevitable that I would find Bennett’s ideas a natural conclusion of the way things in the world have always appeared to me’.

It is not too fantastical to say that rocks and the constructed environment materials speak their own language, if one takes time to dwell in the quiet, polyphonic visual echoes. A rock picked up intuitively years before or the side of a brutalist building may increase exponentially as inspiration, whilst on a wild garlic foraging visit to a local town because on the context of time and place. It is within the methodology of Fairchild’s use of the liquid jesmonite material where a kind of synchronic tearing through time and memory and things in the world, which the work in this exhibition intends to give slices through; from deeply deposited layers in time, emergent in the surface, to not quite nameable animate/inanimate, organic/inorganic forms and structures.

The artist is inviting us to dwell in the imaginative ambiguity of these sculptural slices through objects, material, place and time, to re-imagine the time we are in.

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metalgearkong · 3 years

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The Swordsman - Review

2/24/21

Written and Directed by Choi Jae-hoon, released from South Korea, 2020

Seeing new movies of late has not been one of my highest priorities due to the pandemic. In fact, my last movie review was one year ago, the charming-but-flawed The Call of the Wild. The Swordsman is a movie I hadn't hear about, but saw available in stores and online streaming, and it piqued my interest enough to scoop it up on Blu-ray. This is a South Korean period piece which could be oversimplified as feudal "Taken." Based on true events (to some extent) The Swordsman is the latest in amazing martial arts & swordplay, and is the first medieval Korean film I've ever seen.

Jang Hyuk plays Tae yul, the best swordsman in his city living a low key and peaceful life with his teenage daughter Tae ok (Kim Hyun-soo). His past is not immediately clear, but what is upfront is he is one of those extremely stoic warriors garbed in rags who you know could unleash hell if need be. He accompanies his daughter to the market district where she is exposed to much of the injustice and totalitarian nature of political dominance Korea is going through. Tae yul is trying to keep the evils of the world separate from Tae ok's life, as she remains extremely innocent, even for her age.

The Swordsman contains some of the best feudal Asian sword combat I've ever seen on film. Most of the time the action and the film itself is filmed with slick and creative cinematography, far from relying on jump-cuts and shaky-cam to make the action feel intense. It's clear as day most of the actors have a strong martial arts background, or trained tirelessly for their role in the film. One scene in particular pits our main hero against a large squad of goons armed with primitive one shot guns, and the entire scene is done in one take. I had to rewind the scene immediately to see it again, something I've never been compelled to do before.

Other action scenes are done extremely well too, even if most aren't done in one long choreographed take. Several of one-on-one or one-on-two scenes are shot, and every action of every character is clear and look extremely well rehearsed. One of the best aspects of the action itself, besides the great filming and choreography of them, is that much of it is messy and sloppy. The action has a lot of improvising and imperfection within the fights, adding to the realism. The Sowrdsman is also heavy on drama, with what felt like occasional long bouts between action beats. The acting from what I could tell was very convincing, even if most of the expressions people have are stoic and serious. The script isn't the best part about this movie, but it's not outright bad either. The Swordsman knocks it out of the park for what fans of martial arts movies will want with tons of compelling action and a good feudalism story to hang it on.

8.5/10

#the swordsman

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curious-minx · 3 years

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October 2010s Music Deep Dive!

A mock up poster for the only possible music festival line-up I would be willing to risk my life attending. Tony Allen’s passing has caused the entire Octoberfest to be cancelled indefinitely, but all proceeds from ticks will be given back to the community.

Hope all of you special nobodies and overblown somebodies reading this right now are having a smashing start your first o November. All last month I had taken it upon myself to listen to as many albums and fragments of albums released sometime during the month of October spanning the entire 10’s decade, 2010 through 2019. This is all probably a result of drinking too much dead water, Quarantine brain, undiagnosed Autism, magical thinking and the death of boredom. I have created a Spotify playlist sporting 25 hours and 4 minutes worth of music with an arbitrary amount of albums getting multiple songs, but largely one song/album. This project did create a sense of madness because of the volume of music that gets cranked out. How can we expect anyone to properly criticize music when it is nearly impossible to keep up with it all? I largely culled these albums from Allmusic’s Editorial Choice section, but I did have to use Rateyourmusic to fill out the hip-hop and R&B gaps. In gathering up all of this music I am attempting to see if spooky music was relegated to the October season and any other possible trends. Even though October has been laid to rest her swelling calendar breast still contains a treasure trove of music worth discussing. Grab your broom, sharpen your heels and get the cobwebs out of your ears because we’re going on a Deep Dive!

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The 2010s Old Souls and Musical Auteurs

I consider any musician or band that endures more than a decade worthy of this veteran label. Music biz lifers seem found solace in the October release schedule. A trend that has carried onto the new decade with October 2020 offering revitalized releases by Elvis Costello and Bruce Springsteen reunited with the E Street Band. All three main members of Sonic Youth, Moore, Gordon and Renaldo are still harnessing that spooky Bad Moon Rising energy and carrying it over into their solo releases.

KIM GORDON’s NO RECORD HOME

The first truly proper solo album by Kim Gordon following up her pretty good noise rock releases under the Body/Head moniker with Bill Nace. No Record Home towers over Thurston Moore and Lee Renaldo’s mostly okay solo releases because of how truly experimental and refreshingly modern sounding No Record Home is. This album sounds like it could easily have come out from a young Pacific Northwest Trip-Angle (RIP) label upstart. Instead, Gordon is defiantly aging gracefully and remains an all around important feminist voice in experimental rock music. No Record Home did not pop up on a lot of “Best of the Year” lists in 2019, nor did Gordon embark on any kind of touring for the release. I am hoping that more people will eventually discover this great album and realize that Gordon was truly the best, most truly experimental aspect of Sonic Youth. Her vocals on this album are the best she’s ever sounded because she built these songs and sounds with the intergral collaborator, producer Justin Raisen. A glimpse at Raisen’s Wikipedia page is a who’s who of great artists of the past decade: Yves Tumor, Charli XCX, and Sky Ferreira. The collaboration occurred at an AirBnB shared between Gordon and Raisen and birthed the first single of the project “Air BnB.” A song that completely sets the tone of the album and features one of those amazing music videos in the same line us Young Thug’s “Wyclef Jean. “

Björk - Biophilia

Can you name the last album the rolled out with its own app? Nine years have come and gone and I certainly can’t think of another album with such wholesome ambitions. Björk was getting passionate about ecological concerns in her native Icelandic home with Sigur Ros and using her sphere of influence to try to good. 2014 the app has found a permanent home in the MOMA, but outside of this curio status the album itself is still a worthwhile addition to the Björk canon. Biophilia finds Björk in musical scientist mode using sounds captured from a Tesla coil and making a whole musical universe onto herself. The rest of the 2010s found Björk going for bigger and more ambitious projects that continue to frustrate those who wish she would go back to her poppier roots. She remains one of those most consistent solo artists around and someone no one will be able to predict what she does next. The only thing is certain is that it will be visionary and will probably include a wildly ambitious rollout and a new piece of physical art like Biophilia’s $800 tuning forks.

NENEH CHERRY - BROKEN POLITICS

Featuring production duties for the second time from Four Tet (who also pops up in the October playlist with his 2013 album Beautiful Rewind). Broken Politics in Cherry’s words, “is about feeling broken, disappointed, and sad, but having perseverance. It’s a fight against the extinction of free thought and spirit.” The music video for single “Natural Skin Deep” was filmed in Beirut, a backdrop made even more painful given 2020’s Explosion. Cherry is an artist with deep spiritual and blood connections with artists central to jazz’s history. Broken Politics also features songs built around Ornette Coleman samples. This is all to say that Neneh Cherry is always going to be someone tapping into a creative cosmic vein that spans generations, and with that comes a hard wisdom. Two years later we’re still dealing with the same god damn guts and guns of history.

OTHER NOTABLES:

(Cat Power - The Wanderer; John Cale - Shifty Adventures in Nookie Wood; Tony Allen - Film of Life ; Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Psychedelic Pill ;Bryan Ferry - Olympia; Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Ghosteen ;Yoko Ono - Warzone; Vashti Bunyan - Heartleap; Elvis Costello & The Imposters - Look Now; The Chills - Silver Bullets; Weezer - Everything Will Be Alright In The End;Laurie Anderson - Heart of A Dog;Janet Jackson - Unbrekable;The Mercury Rev - Light In You; Rocketship - Thanks To You; Van Dyke Parks & Gaby Moreno - Spangled; Donald Fagen - Sunken Condos; Prefab Sprout - Crimson Red; Pere Ubu - 20 Years in a Montana Missile Silo; Negativland - True False )

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TRILOGY OF BLACKSTARS

Three last albums released by three titans of 20th century songwriting. Two of them follow the trajectory of an older artist getting rejuvenated by a younger backing band. Lulu is beyond a meme at this point and is considered one of the most confounding flops since Metallic Music. Like Metallic Music, Lulu will get a reappraisal and find its audience. Mr. Blackstar himself Bowie considered Lulu one of his favorite releases. “Junior Dad” alone makes this album a worthy addition in Lou Reed’s discography. Scott Walker invited some similarly hairy and intense younger rock studs into his private castle and pulls off a far more natural combination. Soused fits like a velvet glove on a elegant corpse hand swirling thick slabs of guitar and demonic percussion. Scott Walker effortlessly orchestrates between elegance and moribundity whereas Lulu wallows and thrashes against the ugly riffage.

No riffs or oozing wall of sound are anywhere to be found on the sparse and pointedly elegiac You Want it Darker. Leonard Cohen never went full on sleazy I’m Your Man ever again but he didn’t become adult contemporary either. You Want It Darker finds Leonard and his son Adam Cohen. When Leonard passed away he was the only one to get a full David Bowie like museum tribute, Lou Reed only got a corner of a library. Cohen is far and away the most accessible mystical Jewish Buddhist monk with a penchant for fedoras and having a masked man with a leather belt beat him in the recording booth [citation needed]. You Want It Darker is the only one of these mortality laden kiss offs to win a Grammy. I do wonder if Cohen would have ever allowed a more adventurous production to touch his staid and timeless old fashioned sound. Tom Scharpling divides Leonard Cohen into his Pre-Fedora and Post-Fedora days. If you are being literal about that demarcation that still gives you a pretty vast body of music I just want sad bloated blurry black and white Leonard Cohen with a banana or the smiling cad on Songs of Love and Hate. Even the floppy fedora era has worthwhile albums and he sounds like if Serge Gainsbourgh was a muppet Gargoyle, he’s reliable. I will always beat myself for not buying that official Leonard Cohen raincoat at the Jewish Museum Leonard Cohen exhibit, but I hope someone has and they are finding comfort with Cohen’s music. A lot of his latter day period is comforting in a sardonic sexy mind bending nursing home sort of way.

I am glad that these men were ultimately spared from having to deal with Covid times and even someone as tasteless as Brian Wilson’s Ghost can acknowledge that it’s more important than ever to keep your elderly loved ones locked away in a well ventilated pod.

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(INSERT ARTIST HERE) SEASON

For a few sticky sweet select few artists the month of October proved to be a suitable release launch pad for more than one album. The Mountain Goats and clipping. have just joined the October two-timer club this year. The reigning queen of October releases is Taylor Swift and Adrianne Lenker. In chronological order swift released Speak Now, Red and 1989 probably Swift’s biggest run in terms of critical and commercial success. None of these albums have a particularly big place in my heart, in fact speaking on behalf of Brian Wilson’s Ghost Ltd. I’m not the biggest fan of America’s Sweetheart, Sweet Tea Poet Laureate. All three of these albums all came out in the latter part of October and based on the Target brand synergy roll-out felt as inevitable as pumpkin spice. Haunted. Sad Beautiful Tragic. Out of the Woods. These are either song titles taken from these three albums are the names of the under utilized Romantic Halloween Horror Comedy genre. Lady Gaga might have been spooking it up on American Horror Story, but Swift gives a far more chilling performance in Tom Hooper’s midnight madness of Cats and I could envision Swift excelling really well as a horror film actor. Especially in a role like Scarlett Johansson’s Under the Skin.

You cannot get more polar opposite from Swift than Adrianne Lenker. Who released her first solo album abysskiss and the second Big Thief album of 2019 Two Hands. Lenker will have also gone on to make her third October release this year with her second solo album songs & instrumentals. Striking that such a ghostly autumnal band would have only released one album in October, but autumnal feeling albums are not beholden to release calendars. The song “Not” from the Big Thief album Two Hands is a watershed breakthrough moment for the band and put Lenker and her band on the map. In 2019 Big Thief became a band that could get booked onto a Goodmorning American performance slot and more or less made Big Thief one of the rare 2010s indie bands to become more or less a household name.

Other notable artists to have released more than one album on October 2010s:

Less notable artists to have multiple October releases: James Blunt Korn

Calvin Harris

Kings of Leon

Pentatonix

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FORMER HARBINGERS OF HYPE

These are October releases from artists that once felt like whenever they put out an album a wider array of outlets and publications seemed to care more and would spill more digital ink over them. The big three artists that had the biggest drop off in attention and acclaim that stick out to me the most are Titus Andronicus, Justice and Why? All three artists debuted with strong starts back in the aughts, but according to critical reception more or less crashed and burned. Titus Andronicus’ Local Business was one of the last times Titus Andronicus would get positive marks from Pitchfork. Local Business a fun and shaggy follow-up to one of the most self-serious concept albums of the 2010s.

Justice’s Audio, Video, Disco similarly is a follow up to a highly acclaimed album that set the bar high enough to doom Justice into never living up to the hype. Justice’s 2007 s/t heralded them as the next Daft Punk, but unlike those soulful and thoughtful robots Justice mainly wanted to make big ridiculous unfashionable synth prog rock. Audio, Video, Disco is simply cheesy fun and even though we live in a world better off without parties and gatherings this album helps you feel like you are in high-def IMAX monster mash on the moon.

The leaves us with Why?’s Mump’s Etc. an album that already had the job of following up an already divisive follow up record Eskimo Snow. Why’s Alopecia is a really important 2008 indie blog rap album that helped thrust the online indie blogs into the hip-hop genre hybrid experimentalism. Why? would never make another universally beloved album again and with Mump’s Etc. ended up permanently in Pitchfork’s hate pit. In the original release review the Pitchfork writer essentially deems this album an act of “career suicide.” The whole review is essentially an assignation of Why?’s figurehead Yoni Wolf and taking him to task for all of his awkward lyrical blunders and the fact he is narcissistic enough to be a musician writing about his career in a meta fashion. Yet when I listen to Mump’s Etc. I am more or less enjoying Yoni Wolf’s personality and find the whole thing to be pretty charming. A perfectly serviceable 3.5/5 release that a media outlet like Pitchfork turns into a flexing opportunity to show how that they have the power to make or break a career.

A.C. Newman, an artist who appears on this playlist with his terrific 2012 Shut Down The Streets took to Twitter to scoff at the idea that a good Pitchfork review has done anything for his career. Shut Down The Streets currently remains the last solo album Newman has released under his name choosing to focus on his main gig with the New Pornographers. The Internet based hype machine is even more ADHD addled and twitchier by the day. The joy of doing this deep dive allowed me to revisit a lot of these artists and acts that I had fallen out of touch with. I had completely forgotten about King of Convenience’s Erlend Øye who released the album Legao in 2014. I rediscovered a good deal of bands like the Editors, The Dodos, Kisses, Black Milk, Crocodiles, Empire of the Sun, Juana Molina, Jagwar Ma, Here We Go Magic, Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr., YACHT, Peaking Lights, The Twilight Sad, Elf Power, Swet Shop Boys, Radio Dept, Allo’ Darlin, Foxes In Fiction, and HOMESHAKE are all bands not trying to change the world or challenge listeners with avant garde experimentation. Instead I feel like I maintaining relationships with old friends on the edge of obscurity.

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A HISTORY OF CHRISTMAS IN OCTOBER

A tradition stretching back as far as 2014 not October’s Idina Menzel’s Holiday Wishes, but Seth McFarland’s Holiday For Swing sweatily released on CD, digital, and vinyl on September 30, 2014. 2015 then brings us a Chris Tomlin and Ru Paul Christmas albums because every force of Neo-liberal good must be balanced with evangelical contemporary Christian music *shutters.* 2016 finds the Christmas in October era reaching a complete and utter nadir with R. Kelly’s final official LP 12 Nights of Christmas and A Pentatonix Christmas, but also buffered by Kacey Musgrave’s Christmas. 2017 only had time for Gwen Stefani’s You Make It Feel Like Christmas and no one else could evoke this feeling in October. On 2018, Michelle and Barack Obama’s combined one and only Christmas wish comes true, no not cancelling those drone strikes, but getting John Legend to join the October release jamboree; Eric Clapton claps open his guitar’s butt cheeks and hatefully squats out a half assed Xmas album defiantly opening the album with “White Christmas” [eyeroll emoji]; and finally 2018 found the Pentatonix announcing in October that Christmas Is Here. I apologize for all of that crude butt talk about the hateful racist Eric Clapton, but(t) I have festive gluteus Maximus on the mind, because in 2019 Norah Jones got her alternative country gal trio back together to remind us to shake our Christmas butts. Eat shit commercial shit, today’s Santa’s birthday! That’s the magic of the October release schedule!

The hallowed Christmas in October tradition continues on in 2020 with Dolly I-Beg-Thee-Pardon releasing A Holly Dolly Christmas right on time on October 2, 2020 (Carrie Underwood missed the memo and unwraps her unwanted My Gift in September 2020). Meghan Trainor, Goo Goo Dolls, and Tori Kelly released Christmas albums. Can you believe Seth MacFarlane comes up twice in this article, because his sleazy J. Michigan Frog croon is processed and grated like Parmesan cheese snow flakes all over a rendition of White Christmas. What a time to be alive!

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WHERE DID THEY GO?

A Brief Case For Class Actress’s Rapproacher

Among my October music travels I encountered one artist that really impressed me with her proper LP debut Rapprocher. The trio fronted by Elizabeth Vanessa Harper is essentially peddling the kind of competent moody 80’s inspired synth pop that belongs on a lost Donnie Darko sequel. Harper’s vocals are striking and expressive and they are melded with constantly propulsive bed of shiny synths and glossy barely-there gated percussion. Outside of an 2015 EP called Movies featuring exciting production contributions from Italo-disco icon Giorgio Moroder there has been nothing else from Class Actress. Highly recommend you check them out especially if you want to find the sweet spot between Chromatics and Kylie Minogue.

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THE OCTOBER 2010s MASTERPIECES

(Robyn - Honey, Big K.R.I.T. - 4eva is a Mighty Long Time ,Miguel - Kaleidoscope Dream, Crying - Beyond The Fleeting Gale , M83 Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming ,SRSQ - Unreality, Sufjan Stevens - age of adz, Joanna Newsom - divers, VV Brown Samson and Delilah, Kelela - tear me apart , Neon Indian - VEGA Intl., Fever Ray - Plunge , Antony and The Johnsons - Swanlights (goodbye album) , Caroline Polachek - Pang , Sky Ferreira - Night Time, My Time . Bat For Lashes Haunted Man, James Ferraro - Far Side Virtual , Grouper - Ruins , Kero Kero Bonito -Bonito Generation , DJ Rashad - Double Cup)

Maybe if I surround this VV Brown album with more well known artists she’ll finally get some more clicks? I should also mention that Joanna Newsom’s Divers is nowhere on my Spotify October Music playlist because Joanna Newsom thinks Spotify is bananas, and she hates bananas. I know I should also mention Kendrick Lamar’s good kid, m.A.A.d city and Tame Impala’s Lonerism. That’s the maddening thing about October music that just when you think you covered all your ground you find another hidden hump underneath the carpet. I feel remiss without mentioning striking debut and instant hidden gem Tinashe’s Aquarius, which did you know has a new album art on Spotify. Death Grip’s No Love Deep Web. T_T I didn’t even get around to making a big verbal mosaic to Thom Yorke’s witchy Suspiria soundtrack.Corpus Christi! I forgot to highlight The Orb album in the collage with my other veteran artists! As you can see this project nearly ruined me. I did not necessarily listen to all of these albums from front to back, but I did listen all of the songs on the playlist and chose them from the immense collection of October releases. I am pretty sure this is the kind of content for no one in particular but I really needed to get it out of my system. Let’s meet back up October 2030!!!!!

(Thank you to my beloved partner, best friend and Spotify provider Maddie Johnson XD)

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7sdLaNNaqWpKEKXRZ3jNqY?si=SLZxUwLMQYOQ5wA1xuZc7w

#spooky #spooktember #spooktober #spooktacular #octoberfest #autism #best of #music festival #Joanna newsom #sufjan stevens #kendrick lamar #tame impala #Taylor swift #big thief #Adrianne lenker #ru paul #kelly klarkson

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