a grimm growls in the background -> "you will question everything you know." -> "this is impossible." <- based on what emerald knew before, maybe. in reality, clearly it isn't.
"i needed to know more, but with every new discovery i made, the more horrifying the world became." (what is more horrifying than learning what you knew before isn't what it's made to be?) -> "why should we believe any of this?" -> "now you're catching on. so far you've done nothing but accept what others tell you, but you need to question everything."
old man oz has a great and terrible secret. ozpin designed the schools, has followers inside every academy on remnant that are loyal to him and no one else.
"as a metafiction, this tale more than any other in this collection demonstrates the power of stories to create reality and shape our destinies, and the subtle influence storytellers have over their audiences.
this is how propaganda works, of course. arguably, every fable is originally told for a purpose, either overt or hidden. some were designed to communicate a moral lesson or instruct children on how to behave, while others were meant as warnings or to persuade people into believing a certain thing. the girl in the tower shared a version of her story intended to elicit sympathy and motivate people to come to her aid—but in process she also doomed many warriors to die in the attempt. her story did not include the whole truth, and how much of it might have been false? one must always be prepared to think about and question everything they read of hear, especially if they are told that it is absolute truth."
"the truth is that 'truth' is hard to come by. a story of victory to one person is a story of defeat to someone else. by now, your uncle has surely told ruby and her friends plenty of stories." -> "what's your favorite fairy tale?"
the girl in the tower shared a version of her story to elicit sympathy and motivate people to come to her aid, but in process she also doomed many warriors to die in the attempt. -> the wizard in the tower shared a version of his story to elicit sympathy and motivate people to come to his aid—"it's all my fault. i told you once that i made more mistakes than any man, woman, and child on this planet, and i wasn't exaggerating. i'm... cursed. for thousands of years, i've walked the surface of remnant, living, dying, and reincarnating in the body of a like-minded soul. [...] i am the combination of countless men who've spent their lives trying to protect the people of remnant. [...] this curse was bestowed upon me by the gods, because i failed to stop salem in the past. but we must stop her now." <- that's not why he was 'cursed', but okay—, but in process he also doomed many warriors to die in the attempt.
something something propaganda, who controls / controlled the narrative, what is the truth? (and how are the grimm involved in it?)
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ough the way i know suits is less than perfect of a show, but something really lovely about how harvey specter’s character arc is all about like. realizing enough is enough. you can struggle and fight for power and you can have all this ambition, but also there’ll come a point where you care more about the people you built your little world with, rather than the world you built itself. y’know?
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we've found it folks: mcmansion heaven
Hello everyone. It is my pleasure to bring you the greatest house I have ever seen. The house of a true visionary. A real ad-hocist. A genuine pioneer of fenestration. This house is in Alabama. It was built in 1980 and costs around $5 million. It is worth every penny. Perhaps more.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "Come on, Kate, that's a little kooky, but certainly it's not McMansion Heaven. This is very much a house in the earthly realm. Purgatory. McMansion Purgatory." Well, let me now play Beatrice to your Dante, young Pilgrim. Welcome. Welcome, welcome, welcome.
It is rare to find a house that has everything. A house that wills itself into Postmodernism yet remains unable to let go of the kookiest moments of the prior zeitgeist, the Bruce Goffs and Earthships, the commune houses built from car windshields, the seventies moments of psychedelic hippie fracture. It is everything. It has everything. It is theme park, it is High Tech. It is Renaissance (in the San Antonio Riverwalk sense of the word.) It is medieval. It is maybe the greatest pastiche to sucker itself to the side of a mountain, perilously overlooking a large body of water. Look at it. Just look.
The inside is white. This makes it dreamlike, almost benevolent. It is bright because this is McMansion Heaven and Gray is for McMansion Hell. There is an overbearing sheen of 80s optimism. In this house, the credit default swap has not yet been invented, but could be.
It takes a lot for me to drop the cocaine word because I think it's a cheap joke. But there's something about this example that makes it plausible, not in a derogatory way, but in a liberatory one, a sensuous one. Someone created this house to have a particular experience, a particular feeling. It possesses an element of true fantasy, the thematic. Its rooms are not meant to be one cohesive composition, but rather a series of scenes, of vastly different spatial moments, compressed, expanded, bright, close.
And then there's this kitchen for some reason. Or so you think. Everything the interior design tries to hide, namely how unceasingly peculiar the house is, it is not entirely able to because the choices made here remain decadent, indulgent, albeit in a more familiar way.
Rare is it to discover an interior wherein one truly must wear sunglasses. The environment created in service to transparency has to somewhat prevent the elements from penetrating too deep while retaining their desirable qualities. I don't think an architect designed this house. An architect would have had access to specifically engineered products for this purpose. Whoever built this house had certain access to architectural catalogues but not those used in the highest end or most structurally complex projects. The customization here lies in the assemblage of materials and in doing so stretches them to the height of their imaginative capacity. To borrow from Charles Jencks, ad-hoc is a perfect description. It is an architecture of availability and of adventure.
A small interlude. We are outside. There is no rear exterior view of this house because it would be impossible to get one from the scrawny lawn that lies at its depths. This space is intended to serve the same purpose, which is to look upon the house itself as much as gaze from the house to the world beyond.
Living in a city, I often think about exhibitionism. Living in a city is inherently exhibitionist. A house is a permeable visible surface; it is entirely possible that someone will catch a glimpse of me they're not supposed to when I rush to the living room in only a t-shirt to turn out the light before bed. But this is a space that is only exhibitionist in the sense that it is an architecture of exposure, and yet this exposure would not be possible without the protection of the site, of the distance from every other pair of eyes. In this respect, a double freedom is secured. The window intimates the potential of seeing. But no one sees.
At the heart of this house lies a strange mix of concepts. Postmodern classicist columns of the Disney World set. The unpolished edge of the vernacular. There is also an organicist bent to the whole thing, something more Goff than Gaudí, and here we see some of the house's most organic forms, the monolith- or shell-like vanity mixed with the luminous artifice of mirrors and white. A backlit cave, primitive and performative at the same time, which is, in essence, the dialectic of the luxury bathroom.
And yet our McMansion Heaven is still a McMansion. It is still an accumulation of deliberate signifiers of wealth, very much a construction with the secondary purpose of invoking envy, a palatial residence designed without much cohesion. The presence of golf, of wood, of masculine and patriarchal symbolism with an undercurrent of luxury drives that point home. The McMansion can aspire to an art form, but there are still many levels to ascend before one gets to where God's sitting.
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